Some Christmas Day tomorrow is going to be. At least if I’m not having a great time, I know I can just have Kerry spike everyone’s drinks again.
Chapter Fourteen
Today is a milestone for Mark and me: it’s our first Christmas together. We did know each other last year, but it wasn’t long after we got together so obviously we didn’t spend Christmas together. What a difference a year makes, though, because this year things are so different. How we’d spend Christmas Day is something we’d talked about a lot. The plan was for Mark to pop up and see his family at some point (maybe between Christmas and New Year), and for us to spend Boxing Day with my parents, but 25th December was supposed to be just the two of us. We’d bought the food, decorated our flat to perfection; all of my presents for Mark are wrapped beautifully and sitting underneath the tree, ready to be ripped open. We were supposed to sleep in, relax, eat too much and then sleep some more – throw sex and presents into the mix and you’ve got my ideal day, right there.
Instead I’m waking up here, in cold, miserable Yorkshire, in this cold, miserable, broken bed, all alone again.
Siting up on my floor-bed, I sigh deeply and remind myself that I can handle whatever is thrown at me today, because I love Mark. I love his gorgeous smile, and the way it makes me feel when I know that I’m the reason behind it. I love how much he cares about his job and how passionate he is about making a difference. I love the fact that he goes out of his way to make me happy all the time, whether it’s taking me places he knows I love or watching movies he knows are my favourites, even if he doesn’t like them. I love that, even though we have our own interests, it still feels like we have everything in common. We spend so much time together, but it never feels like too much.
‘Merry Christmas,’ Mark says as he enters the room. ‘Here’s your present.’
He places a plate with a warm pain au chocolat down on the bed in front of me.
‘Thank you,’ I reply.
‘Your ring was your real present, obviously,’ he laughs.
‘I know, thank you. Both are amazing.’
‘You OK?’ he asks.
‘I guess. Just… this isn’t exactly the Christmas we had planned, is it?’
‘Put some clothes on,’ Mark demands excitedly. ‘Then follow me.’
I do as I’m told, wrestling on my beloved borrowed tracksuit in my half-asleep state before running my hands through my hair to try and neaten it up a little.
‘I could do with washing my hair today,’ I tell him. ‘It’s all gross from getting snow in it yesterday.’
‘Well, you can wash your hair and put on your nice clothes before dinner if you like? My parents have put everyone else to work. They go hard at Christmas,’ he informs me.
‘I couldn’t help but notice they didn’t have any decorations up,’ I reply, puzzled.
‘Well, they promised to wait for the kids to decorate the house. The plan was to do it yesterday, but then we had all the drama… So we’re doing everything now.’
Mark takes me by the hand and leads me out into the hallway where the sound of Shakin’ Stevens’ ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’ is filling the air. I can smell food cooking and, as we get closer to the family room, I notice the place is abuzz with people all doing different jobs. Oscar is lugging a tree through the house, dragging it like a dead body, so Mark rushes over to help him. I can hear the women all cackling in the kitchen and then I notice the twins draping tinsel along the bannister.
‘Oh, I’m not sure about that, darlings,’ Oscar tells them. ‘Not really a big fan of tinsel.’
Their faces fall simultaneously. Once again, the girls are dressed in matching Christmas jumpers, making them look like a mirror image of each other. Their expressions even change in sync with one another – it’s very creepy. It doesn’t help that they’re so quiet either, like they can communicate between themselves without saying a word.
‘It’s fine, keep going, kids,’ Mark tells them with a big, warm smile. ‘Come on Dad, let them help,’ he insists to Oscar under his breath.
‘Fine,’ Oscar gives in.
‘As you can tell, my dad takes his Christmas decorations very seriously,’ Mark tells me.
‘Some people just go so tacky,’ Oscar explains. ‘I like to keep a classy theme.’
I pull an impressed face.
‘It’s refreshing to see a man with taste,’ I tell him.
‘In that case, you’re allowed to help me,’ he replies happily.
‘My mum is so sorry about what happened yesterday,’ Mark explains to me, apologising on his mum’s behalf. ‘She was mortified when I told her what she’d said about you in front of everyone and she wants to build some bridges today. She’s putting so much effort into making you feel welcome for Christmas Day. So we’re putting the decorations up, Mum is cooking the dinner, they’re going to lay the table all festive – and you just love Christmas stuff anyway, so it’s going to be awesome.’
‘Sounds good,’ I reply, mustering up a little enthusiasm to make the effort.
‘We’re just waiting for the hungover Grinch to wake up on the sofa, then we’ll go in there and get started.’
That will be Kerry he’s referring to. I did notice her drinking almost as much as she was spiking, so I’m not surprised she’s hungover.
‘Can I get washed and dressed up before I help out?’ I ask them both.
‘Of course,’ Oscar replies. ‘I’ll go make a start shifting Kerry.’
‘Do you think any of the ladies has a hairdryer and some straighteners I can borrow?’ I ask Mark. ‘Even just a hairdryer will do, to be honest.’
‘I’m sure they will,’ he replies. ‘Come on, let’s go ask them.’
Mark takes me by the hand and leads me into the kitchen where Bea, Millie and Mel are sitting at the table as Valerie buzzes around bothering with different pans and chopping vegetables. Millie and Mel are folding napkins, while Bea watches over everything, through the eye she isn’t holding a bag of frozen peas over.
‘I’m going to need those peas soon,’ Val tells her. ‘We might have to switch you to an ice pop. Sorry again,’ she adds.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Bea replies. ‘It was – oh, speak of the devil,’ she says as she spies me walking into the kitchen.
‘You think this was my fault?’ I ask.
‘Of course not,’ Bea replies. ‘We all made a scene.’
Mark quickly stops me saying the first thing that pops into my head by placing his calming hands on my shoulders, massaging them firmly.
‘Ladies,’ he says quickly changing the subject. ‘Roxie is going to wash her hair. Does anyone have a hairdryer and maybe some straighteners she can use?’
‘I have two kids,’ Millie replies. ‘Do I look like I have time for stuff like that any more?’
Well, that’s depressing. I didn’t realise that when you had kids you had to forego doing your hair. As Millie’s mobile starts ringing she snatches it up and leaves the room to answer it.
‘How does she have signal?’ I ask. ‘I don’t have signal anywhere.’
‘What network are you on?’ Val asks.
‘Vodafone,’ I reply.
‘Yeah, you won’t get a signal. Only one network you can get signal on around here – we’re all on that one.’
‘It’s the same as mine,’ Mark tells me. ‘So if you need to make any calls, you know you can use my phone, right?’
‘Thank you.’ Now if I could just get the number of a helicopter pilot who doesn’t mind helping out a woman in need on Christmas Day…
‘Left my hairdryer at home,’ Mel says, getting back on topic. ‘Sorry.’
‘And I don’t use them,’ Bea chimes in superiorly. ‘They’re so bad for your hair. Go without,’ she insists.
‘I can’t really go without since I had my hair cut,’ I explain. ‘My hair air-dries with a curl, and now that my hair is shorter, it isn’t heavy enough to weigh it down, so without a hairdryer my hair goes no
ught to Mick Hucknall in the time it takes to dry.’
The women snigger.
‘Mum, you’ve got to have a hairdryer in this house somewhere, right?’
‘I don’t, I’m afraid, my love,’ she replies, sounding oh-so-sorry to be the bearer of bad news. ‘It broke a while ago and I never bothered to replace it.’
I raise my eyebrows.
‘No worries,’ I reply – although I am worried. Since getting my hair cut shorter I have suffered with biweekly regret, mostly just because I miss having long, pretty hair; but one of the legitimate reasons I miss it is because, even though it is short, it is still thick, so unless I heat it within an inch of its life, it will curl up like I’ve had a perm in an uncool, eighties sort of way.
‘You sure that’s OK?’ he asks me softly.
‘What is she going to do, trek out in the snow to get one?’ Val laughs.
‘I’m fine, really,’ I repeat. Still not fine, though.
‘Use the bathroom at the top of the stairs,’ he tells me. ‘There are towels and stuff in there.’
‘Thanks,’ I reply. Mark kisses me on the cheek before I head off upstairs.
I feel so awkward and uncomfortable in this house, like I don’t belong here, and like no one wants me here. Mark is wonderful, but he looks at his family with so much adoration, I don’t think he notices how weird they make me feel. His mum and Bea are like this tight little team who think I’ve taken their boy from them. Oscar is OK, friendly enough, just a bit bizarre. Alex and Millie are just in their own little world, as are their kids. Mel is quiet, Ste is a pervert, and then there’s Kerry who, despite being so lovely and friendly, is an absolute fucking nightmare. I mean, she spiked her own family’s drinks – how reckless is that? That’s not only such a deceitful thing to do, but pretty dangerous, too. Luckily, other than my feelings and Bea’s face, no one really got hurt.
After a quick shower I begin towel-drying my hair, squeezing the water out of it to get it as dry as possible, but I can see it curling already. Still, I apply my make-up and slip on the only outfit I have with me – complete with my high boots, because I hate feeling so short – and then I’m ready to make the most of Christmas.
As I leave the bathroom, I bump into Ste.
‘Merry Christmas, Roxie,’ he says.
‘Yeah, you too,’ I reply awkwardly.
‘So, yesterday…’
‘Yeah.’ I pause, wracking my brains for a subtle way to tell him not to do that again. ‘Don’t do that again. Or anything like that.’
OK, so that wasn’t subtle, but I couldn’t be clearer.
‘Are you sure?’ he asks. ‘Because you seemed into it.’
‘I thought it was Mark,’ I snap. ‘Obviously I’d be into that.’
‘Whatever,’ he laughs. ‘To be continued.’
Ergh, he’s so disgusting. Mel could do so much better.
‘What did he want?’ Kerry asks me, making me jump.
‘He was just being weird,’ I tell her – lest she poison him while he sleeps for his crimes. ‘You coming to help with the decorations?’
‘Go on then,’ she replies.
Downstairs, the festivities are in full swing. The Christmas playlist is still going strong, filling the house with festive cheer, instantly lifting my mood. I love Christmas, and everything about it, but it’s the music I love most of all – closely followed by the food, obviously. It really is the most wonderful time of the year, and it’s definitely making me feel better, even in these circumstances.
I don’t know how long it took me to get ready, but Oscar has already done so much of the decorating, and the place looks amazing. He’s got a real eye for things like this – it’s impressive.
‘So, what can we do?’ I ask Oscar.
He thinks for a moment.
‘Well, I think Kerry deserves the job of untangling lights,’ he laughs.
‘Go on then,’ she gives in, sitting on the floor in the most unladylike way given how short her dress is.
‘Roxie, I do have a job for you, but I could do with you fetching Alex for me first, if you don’t mind? I need some muscle, and I think Mark is busy.’
‘Sure, I’ll go find him,’ I reply.
The sound of joy and laughter is pouring out of the kitchen; however, as I walk in there, the room falls silent. It’s just Val and Bea now.
‘Anyone know where Alex is?’ I ask.
‘Try asking Millie,’ Bea tells me. ‘She popped outside to take a phone call.’
‘OK, thanks,’ I reply.
They wait until I have left the room before carrying on with their conversation. The sound of laughter immediately after I close the door reminds me of the mean girls at school, but I’m not going to let it get to me.
Out in the back garden, without a coat on, I am positively freezing. There isn’t any snow falling right now, but the sky looks thick with it, like it’s about to burst with more any second, topping up the places where snow has been cleared. I glance around for Millie, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I can just imagine this being some kind of prank where they tell me to go outside and then lock me out here in the snow to freeze to death. As I go to try the handle to get back inside, to see whether or not I’m right, I hear a noise. I cock my head to the side as I try to make sense of it; it’s a familiar noise for sure. It’s not crying or laughing; it’s… sex noises. I can hear sex noises in the garden! If I were a better person, I’d probably rush back inside (slightly jealous, if I’m honest) and leave them to it, but I’m not a better person. I’m nosy, and I want to know who it is. With my ear turned slightly towards the sky, I follow the squeaky moans of pleasure to see who is up to no good. As I approach the maze-like hedges that run around the large garden, I realise that whoever I can hear is just on the other side. I don’t want to see anyone at it; I’m just hoping someone says someone’s name at some point in the next three seconds, because I’m far too cold to hang around a moment longer.
Through the bushes I can see the silhouette of someone pacing up and down, which is weird, considering the noises I can hear.
‘You like that, don’t you, you bad boy,’ I overhear Millie say in an entirely put-on sexy tone so unlike her usual mousey voice. She’s still on the phone. ‘Yeah… yeah…’ she continues. It’s so annoying to only be getting half of a conversation. I have no idea what’s going on, but there’s no way she’s talking to Alex – why would you have phone sex with someone in the same house as you? Maybe it’s some weird attempt at spicing up their marriage; they don’t seem to have much fun.
‘What about your very hard, very long…’
I slip on a patch of ice hiding under the snow. I grab the bushes, saving myself from going down, but making a noise in the process. Millie pokes her head around the corner and spots me, before diverting this sentence down an entirely different path. ‘…Division. It’s way too much homework for the girls. Hang on one second, please.’
Millie covers the phone microphone with her hand and begins to explain to me.
‘I’m just on the phone to the twins’ teacher,’ she blurts quickly. ‘He’s given them way too much homework to do over Christmas. Did you need something?’
‘I’m just looking for Alex,’ I say sheepishly.
‘He’s having a nap,’ she tells me, refusing to finish her phone call until I’ve gone.
‘Oh, OK. Thanks.’
I head back to the house, replaying the words that I eavesdropped over and over in my head. Those were definitely sex noises, and I seriously doubt the very hard, very long thing she was talking about was division.
Upstairs, outside Millie and Alex’s bedroom, I am about to knock on the partly open bedroom door when I realise he’s in there with someone.
Listening carefully, I realise it’s Mel.
‘Can we just keep things between us a bit longer?’ she begs him.
‘I hate lying to Millie,’ he replies. ‘She’s going to be so hurt.’
‘I know. The wh
ole family are going to be upset, but it’s Christmas day.’
Ooh, it sounds like Mel and Alex have a big secret, too. Curiosity getting the better of me, I linger outside the bedroom door and continue listening.
‘OK, you’re right, now is not the right time to tell them. But in the New Year maybe?’
‘OK,’ she replies. ‘Look, I’d better go before someone catches us. I need the loo anyway.’
I quickly dash away from the door, ducking into Mark’s room for a second. I watch as Mel leaves, sheepishly checking for people before she dashes downstairs.
I wait a few seconds before knocking on Alex’s door, not wanting him to know I was outside listening – like I’m the person with something to hide.
‘Come in,’ he replies.
‘Hey, Alex, Oscar is looking for you. He needs your help.’
‘OK, I’ll be right down,’ he tells me. ‘Everything OK?’
‘All fine,’ I lie. Well, it’s that or tell him that I overheard his conversation just now, and I overheard his wife talking dirty to someone in the garden. I mean, other than that, everything is fine.
I walk out of his room, only to find myself face to face with the twins.
I jump out of my skin.
‘Bloody hell, you scared me,’ I tell them. ‘You girls OK?’
Lisa and Louise stare at me blankly.
‘Girls?’ I prompt.
‘Don’t take it personally,’ Alex tells me, joining us on the landing. ‘They don’t talk to strangers.
‘I’m not a stranger,’ I say with a smile.
‘They don’t know that,’ he reminds me. ‘To them, you’re just some girl Mark has brought home with him.’
‘Are you going to correct them or…? No?’
He laughs it off.
I walk down the steps, as carefully as possible in my super-high heels, successfully reaching the bottom, remaining upright the entire time. I linger at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, pausing to yank up one of my stockings while no one is looking – ever the lady.
It's Not You, It's Them Page 12
