‘It’ll be fine.’ I poured myself another glass of sherry before I began mashing the potatoes with gusto. I was exhausted thirty seconds later but it would do and I moved onto the gravy.
‘Is she having a laugh?’ I re-read Dad’s instructions but I’d been right the first time. Mum wanted me to make the gravy using the juices from the turkey. Sod that. Bisto would have to do.
‘Is that everything?’ Aubrey asked, surveying our work. The turkey was golden and the veg was, well, veg but they looked edible. We’d done a bloody good job, stuffing balls aside.
‘What’s that smell?’ Stephen asked as he stepped into the kitchen, cheeks flushed from the cold.
‘What smell?’ I asked but I’d already got a whiff of it and turned towards the oven with a yelp. Yanking the door open, thick smoke billowed and I took a step back. My lovely roast potatoes were ruined.
See Lesson 21, again.
Homemade Crackers
‘This looks nice,’ Mum lied as we all squeezed around the table. She’d already spotted the missing stuffing balls and roast potatoes, and I was pretty sure she knew on sight that I’d cheated with the gravy.
‘It looks grand.’ Dad, bless him, was being honest. He didn’t really care what was put in front of him, as long as he could shovel it into his mouth.
‘The mash is lumpy.’
I glared at Gideon across the table. He was damn lucky he wasn’t within reach of my fork. ‘It isn’t lumpy. It’s textured.’
Gideon ate the mash anyway, though everybody else left it after a polite taste, even Dad, which hurt.
‘Shall we pull the crackers before we have the trifle?’ Mum asked.
Aubrey, Stephen and I looked at each other with wide eyes. What trifle? There hadn’t been any instructions for a trifle.
Had there?
‘Don’t worry. I bought a ready-made one.’ Mum tittered at our aghast faces as she got up to grab the homemade crackers. She distributed them and we turned to our cracker partner to pull them.
‘It didn’t bang,’ Stephen complained. Well, what did he expect?
‘I got a spoon.’ Gideon held up one of Mum’s teaspoons that I’d borrowed for the occasion.
‘I got half a packet of Polos.’ Mum held up the tube, a frown on her face. ‘And they were already my Polos. From my handbag.’
What the hell had they expected? I’d done my best. Ungrateful bastards, the lot of them.
BOXING DAY:
Christmas Is (Unfortunately) All About The Kids – Part III
My plan for Boxing Day was to enjoy the longest lie-in known to man before collapsing in a chair to eat, drink and rest after the exertions of the previous two days.
Fat chance.
In reality, I was woken at the crack of dawn by the Perky Twins, who bounced on my bladder until I gave in and followed them downstairs. I tried to sneak off back to bed as they shovelled cereal into their chops in front of the telly, but they were on to me and whined until I stayed, resentment steaming from every pore.
And the day only grew worse.
‘Not like that, Aunty Ruth. Like this.’
I was sitting on the floor, which caused my legs to cramp every thirty seconds or so, playing dolls with perfectionist Riley. Every action my doll did was wrong and she would tell me so, demonstrating how it should be done. I felt like throwing the doll on the ground and telling her to play by herself if I was so crap at it. But I’d already tried that once and it only made her whinge until I picked the doll up again.
‘Aunty Ruth, will you play this with me?’
My heart sank when I saw Austin holding the Mouse Trap box. Why had I thought it would be a good idea to buy that?
‘Later, kiddo.’
‘But I want to play now.’
And I wanted to sleep. Shit happens. ‘I’m playing dolls with Riley at the moment. You can join in if you want.’
‘Nah, dolls are for girls.’ Austin sloped off, lucky little bastard, while I was forced to remain in my uncomfortable position on the floor.
‘No, Aunty Ruth. Like this.’
Lesson 23: Avoid kids and their toys at all cost.
The Boxing Day Buffet
‘Ruth, love, can you come here for a few minutes?’
Yes! Yes! Yes! I’d been playing with the kids all morning so it was a relief when Mum called me into the kitchen. Though once I arrived, I knew I’d be stuck in there for more than a few minutes.
‘Can you butter that pile of bread for me? I can’t manage with one hand.’
Oh, you mean that mountain of bread over there? How many people was she expecting? Still, it was better than playing Mouse Trap and princesses and dumper trucks.
Mum always hosted a buffet on Boxing Day, inviting what seemed like the whole street as well as Uncle Ray and Aunty Pat and the Demon Twins. My young cousins, Philip and Lesley, weren’t actually twins but they had definite demon tendencies.
Lesson 24: Never leave your phone unattended while your delinquent cousins are visiting. They will read out every X-rated text message on there. And enjoy your humiliation.
‘Not like that, Ruth. You’re putting way too much butter on. Like this.’ I could see where Riley had got her perfectionist gene from. And I could also see Mum’s wrist was getting better.
I made a million sandwiches and set out the buffet practically single-handedly. Dad was supposed to be giving me a hand but he spent more time scoffing pork pies than he did helping.
‘How’s the loft coming on?’ I asked as I made a start on the crisps and cakes.
Dad dusted the pie crumbs from his fingers. ‘Grand, love. Your mum won’t let me work on it today but I tell you, I’ll be hiding up there as soon as your Aunty Pat gets here.’
‘Can I join you?’
Dad chuckled and grabbed a mini sausage roll. There would be nothing left of the buffet by the time the guests arrived.
Guests
After another game of Mouse Trap, which I roped Stephen and Aubrey into joining in with (I don’t care about the eight-hour flight, Mum), the guests started to arrive. Mr and Mrs Jeffries from next door were first (they do have first names but, despite being in my late twenties, I’m not allowed to use them). They brought a box of Belgium chocolates (unwanted Christmas gift?) and made a huge fuss of the kids so they were quite welcome in my book. Uncle Ray, Aunty Pat and the Demon Twins not so much.
‘Have you put more weight on, Ruth?’ Aunty Pat enveloped me in a tight hug, choking me with both the squeeze and the half-bottle of perfume she was wearing so I couldn’t answer the cheeky bitch. ‘Still, that’s a very pretty top. Lovely and bright.’ She patted my arm and moved on to her next victim, which happened to be Dad as he hadn’t moved quickly enough.
‘That bloody woman,’ he muttered when she wafted off to poison somebody else with her tongue and fumes. ‘I’m not going thin on top, am I?’ He dipped his head at me so I could inspect his hair.
‘Nope, your hair’s lovely and thick up there, Dad.’
‘Thanks, love.’ Dad narrowed his eyes at Aunty Pat, who was now criticising Aubrey’s ‘nasally’ accent. ‘I’m off up to the loft. Don’t tell your mum or her where I am.’
Lesson 25: Try to find a secret hideaway for when annoying guests arrive.
‘Where’s your dad?’ Mum hissed in my ear, fake smile plastered on her face and a large glass of sherry in her good hand. ‘She’s his sister-in-law. Why do I have to put up with her while he hides?’ She lowered her voice and attempted to indicate her boobs in a subtle fashion. ‘Am I drooping? She says I could do with a lift.’
‘Don’t be daft. You look great. I only hope I look as good as you when I’m in my fifties.’
Mum’s cheeks turned pink and the smile became genuine. ‘Really?’
Lesson 26: Lying through your teeth isn’t always a bad thing.
Mum gasped. ‘Oh dear god, she’s playing with your great-grandma’s vase.’ Mum dashed across the room, sherry splashing onto the carpet. ‘Lesley
, sweetie, don’t play with that. It’s very old.’
Good luck, Mum.
The doorbell chimed, signalling the arrival of more neighbours and more chocolate. I led them through to the sitting room and snaffled a box of chocolates, squirrelling it away for later.
‘Remind me to stay at home next year,’ Stephen said as I flopped down next to him on the sofa.
‘I think I’ll do the same.’ My housemates would be with their families for Christmas so I’d have the house to myself, and that sounded blissful as I watched the room filling with even more people. A couple of Dad’s workmates had arrived with their wives and yet more chocolate. Couldn’t they have brought booze with them?
‘Has anybody seen Louie?’ Mum asked, laughing to mask her irritation at Dad’s disappearance.
‘I could always come to New York next year. Stay with you and Aubrey.’
‘As long as you don’t offer to cook.’
I elbowed Stephen in the ribs. ‘Hey, you weren’t much better than me. At least I put my food in the oven.’
‘And burnt it to smithereens.’
I stuck my tongue out at Stephen while he laughed. He stopped suddenly and I followed his gaze, my jaw dropping at the sight. The room began to titter while I felt my face start to burn as the Demon Twins waddled into the room, a cup of one of my bras on each of their heads. The little shits had been rifling through the drawers in my bedroom.
Lesson 27: Get. A. Lock.
‘Get that thing off your head.’ Aunty Pat strode towards them, plucking the bra from their heads and dumping it on my lap. ‘I believe this belongs to you. Interesting choice of colour, darling.’
‘Aunty Ruth?’ Riley asked from across the room. ‘Why is your bra so big?’
I wanted to die as the room began to titter even louder, including Stephen who was vibrating beside me. Bastards, the lot of them.
‘I need a drink. A big one.’
With my face on fire, I made my way to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine. Aubrey followed me and apologised, which I appreciated far more than Stephen’s girlish giggling. The buffet was set out on the kitchen table, still wrapped in cling film, and I decided to make an early start on it. If I covered it all again, Mum wouldn’t notice.
Lesson 28: Food and alcohol is never the answer. But it is satisfying, albeit temporarily.
I’d only managed a couple of sausage rolls when the kitchen door opened. I shoved the last piece into my mouth and did my best to throw the cling film back over the plate. Mum eyed my bulging hamster cheeks with suspicion but Aunty Pat was on her heels.
‘What a delightful buffet, Vee. Very eighties. Is it supposed to be retro?’
Mum shot me a look, saying I’m going to kill your aunt. I stepped away, turning a blind eye to her murderous intent. I’d leave them alone in the kitchen. Where plenty of weapons lay.
Not satisfied with the little I’d eaten, I decided to unearth my chocolate stash and sneak upstairs with it. But when I looked behind the giant plant pot in the hallway, the box of chocolates had gone.
Lesson 29: If you’re going to hide chocolate, do it well.
The missing chocolate was the final straw. This Christmas sucked. Not only had I been made to cook and bake and play nanny to a bunch of kids, I had to put up with Aunty Pat, the Demon Twins and a chocolate thief. I couldn’t wait to return to my annoying housemates and go back to working for my lazy pig of a boss. Christmas was officially shit. I was going to go and pack, ready to leave first thing in the morning.
Stomping up the stairs, I flung the bedroom door open and stopped in the doorway. I’d forgotten all about Gideon being here but there he was, the lazy bugger, still snoring in bed. I slumped on the bed, hoping the movement would wake him. It didn’t.
‘Are you two going to shag?’
Demon Philip was standing in the doorway, leering at me. Brown gloop encircled his grin and shiny wrappers were tumbling out of the pockets of his trousers.
‘You!’ I leapt from the bed, my finger jabbing in his direction. ‘You nicked my chocolate.’
‘No I didn’t.’ Philip yelped as I grasped his arm and yanked him into the room. ‘Get off me, you fat cow.’
That was it. I’d really had enough.
‘Ow! Ow! Get off, you fucking psycho! Owwww!’
‘What’s going on?’ Gideon sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes.
‘Yes, Ruth. What is going on?’
I released Philip’s wrist at the sound of Aunty Pat’s voice. She stood in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, lips puckered and eyebrows arched as she awaited an explanation.
(Final) Lesson 30: If you’re going to give a kid a Chinese burn, make sure you don’t get caught in the act.
Extract: A Beginner’s Guide To Salad
Keep reading for a sneak peek of Jennifer Joyce’s novel, A Beginner’s Guide To Salad. Out now.
Ruth loves nothing more than curling up in front of the telly with a family-sized bar of chocolate. She doesn’t do diets and she certainly doesn’t do exercise. But all that changes when she’s invited to her school reunion.
Bullied at school for being overweight, Ruth’s first reaction is to rip the invitation into a million pieces. But then Ruth hatches a plan. She’ll lose the weight and arrive at the reunion looking gorgeous and glamorous, leaving her old classmates in awe. Especially her former crush, Zack O’Connell.
With the help of her friends and a new, unbelievably hot colleague, Ruth begins her transformation. With six months until the reunion, losing weight will be a piece of cake, right?
PROLOGUE
Ten years ago
Ruth’s hand shook as she applied a coat of the lipstick she’d swiped from her mother’s dressing table. She should have asked to borrow it, really but she never wore make-up and didn’t want anyone to know why she needed to tonight. Vera would have been thrilled her eighteen-year-old daughter was finally going on a date – and that was the problem. It was Ruth’s first date and she wasn’t entirely sure he would show up.
Imagine the humiliation of being stood up and everybody knowing about it!
How did the date go, love? It didn’t. I sat in the restaurant with your too-bright pink lipstick zigzagged across my gob and waited on my own until closing time. Thanks for asking, Mum. Goodnight.
Ruth paused, lipstick hovering in front of her face while she gave her reflection a good talking to. Zack would show up. They had a connection, a real connection, and it didn’t matter that he’d been cruel towards her throughout their school lives. It wasn’t Zack’s fault – everyone had been cruel to her. It was what happened when you were the fat kid. People teased you, they called you names – and inventive ones like Fat Twat (rhyming), The Jelly Green Giant (word play) and Mrs Blobby (Noel Edmonds had a lot to answer for) – and they excluded you from absolutely everything. School had been hell for Ruth. She’d never been physically bullied, but the name-calling had been relentless. She didn’t have any friends, unless you counted her older brother, Stephen and his best friend. Stephen and Billy had always stuck up for Ruth as best as they could, but they were older than Ruth and had moved away to the other side of Manchester for university so she didn’t see them very often anymore.
And they didn’t really count as friends. Ruth knew that deep down.
She wished she had a friend more than anything, even more than she wanted a boyfriend. A real friend to share secrets with, to joke with and to swap make-up tips with. She could use a friend right now, judging by the mess she’d made of her lips. Lipstick was smeared beyond her lip line and was it… yes, it was on her teeth. Panic bubbled from her gut and spread throughout her body. She lifted her wrist to check the time. Relax, relax, relax. Deep breaths. She wasn’t due to meet Zack at the restaurant for another twenty minutes and, as she was already camped out in the restaurant’s loo, she had plenty of time to sort her face out.
After removing the lipstick with a damp tissue, Ruth took a chest-achingly deep breath and tried ag
ain, this time smoothing the lipstick over her puckered lips almost perfectly. It needed a touch up here and there, but all in all it was a vast improvement. Shame about the colour, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and all that.
Ruth blew her reflection a kiss before she headed back into the restaurant and to the table the waitress had already seated her at. The restaurant was quiet, with only three other tables occupied, but that could have been down to a number of factors: the restaurant being way out of town, the questionable décor and mismatched furniture, or the unidentifiable whiff about the place, which was somewhere between cat piss and BO. But to Ruth it was perfect. This was the setting of her first date and with Zack O’Connell too. Zack had been the most popular boy in her year and she’d always had an (obviously unrequited) crush on him. Zack had mostly ignored her during their fourteen-year acquaintance and when he had spoken to her, it was only to throw jibes her way. It had been only a few weeks ago that he’d snarled ‘fuck off, fatso’ when she’d asked him to sign her shirt on their last day of school, but here she was, waiting for him to wine and dine her.
Wasn’t it funny how life worked out? How a simple walk through the park with your elderly neighbour’s dog could change your life. Ruth hadn’t expected to run into Zack and his friends in the park and when she had, she’d turned and stumbled away in the opposite direction. But Zack had caught up with her and asked if they could talk.
Talk? Zack wanted to talk to her?
Of course she’d been suspicious. She wasn’t stupid. But it turned out Zack had been dumped by his beautiful and equally popular girlfriend and he couldn’t talk to his friends about it. They were all idiots. They didn’t have feelings, not mature ones that didn’t involve their dicks anyway.
A Beginner's Guide To Christmas Page 3
