A Perfect Cornish Christmas

by Phillipa Ashley

  ‘She says it’s healthier than the commercial variety, packed with protein, and she’s added some secret ingredients.’

  Scarlett pulled a face. ‘Like what?’ She put the glass to her lips.

  ‘Powdered kelp.’

  Scarlett swallowed a gulp of the yellow liquid and gagged. ‘Yeugh.’

  Ellie sipped hers and pulled a face. ‘It’s awful, isn’t it?’

  ‘Truly horrible, but I don’t want to hurt Heidi’s feelings. Can we chuck it in a plant pot?’ Scarlett headed for a large aspidistra in the corner of the room.

  ‘I don’t think so. It might not soak into the soil and the plant will probably wilt on the spot. Quick, open the French doors.’

  Scarlett took both glasses and stepped into the garden. The contrast in temperature with the cosy house made her chest tighten. Overnight, a cold front had blown in, coating the flagstones with a film of sleet. Her bunny slippers weren’t ideal for venturing too far so she quickly threw the eggnog into a flowerbed and hurried back inside.

  ‘Brrr. So much for this being the Cornish Riviera. Look at my bunny slippers.’ She held up a foot to Ellie.

  Ellie laughed. ‘They are a bit soggy. Let me put them in front of the fire, while you get the laptop ready.’

  ‘Thanks. You know … I’m starting to have cold feet in other ways. I’m a bit nervous now it’s come to the crunch.’

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ Ellie said, placing the damp slippers on the hearth tiles.

  Even though all three of the Latham children were the wrong side of thirty, their parents still gave them stockings, although the ‘fillers’ had long since ceased to fit inside the actual stockings. They always contained small bottles of posh ‘smellies’, the latest book by their favourite author, chocolates and a ‘silly’ gift. This year everyone had received a pair of novelty slippers – even Marcus, who had groaned when he’d opened a pair of size eleven badger slippers.

  Ellie was wearing fleecy alpacas, while Scarlett’s feet were cocooned in the fluffy rabbits. They were ridiculously impractical and probably lethal on the polished boards of Seaholly Manor, but wasn’t that the point of a stocking present? It had to be fun and, above all, silly. It was a stark contrast to Marcus and Heidi’s gift – a subscription to a health and fitness magazine and app.

  ‘I know you both want to turn over a new leaf,’ Heidi had said, with a dazzling smile. ‘But perhaps not today.’ She patted her stomach. ‘Even I’ll be relaxing my regime. Might even treat myself to a smidge of Christmas pud. After all, we can work off all the fat and sugar with some hill training on our run along the coastal path tomorrow, can’t we, Marcus?’

  Marcus had almost snorted his Bailey’s onto the rug. ‘Um … Maybe not in these, eh, Heidi?’ He held up his badger-clad feet and everyone had laughed. Even Heidi had managed a titter before remarking,

  ‘Perhaps not, but you can definitely try out your new Christmas trainers tomorrow, darling.’

  As Marcus sought refuge in the Good Beer Guide that Scarlett had given him, Scarlett hugged her sister-in-law. Over Heidi’s shoulder, she and her father had exchanged a knowing glance. He was now the proud owner of a Fitbit, whether he wanted to be or not.

  ‘Thank you, Heidi – and Marcus. I’m sure I’ll be very grateful for the subscription in the new year,’ Scarlett said. ‘Aren’t you going to try on your piglet slippers? Mum and Dad spent ages choosing an animal to suit each of us. The piglet was my idea,’ she said brightly. ‘Fabulous, aren’t they?’

  Heidi’s eyes narrowed behind her forced smile. ‘Hilarious … but what made you think a piglet was appropriate?’

  ‘Well, you know, you’re so not a pig, are you? You’re so slim and healthy and you never pig out …’ Scarlett back-pedalled frantically. ‘And, um, a piglet is very cute. And pink.’

  ‘Cute and pink?’ Heidi raised her perfectly arched brows.

  Marcus glanced up from his book. ‘I’d like to know whose idea it was to make me a badger.’

  ‘Dad’s, I think,’ Scarlett said, moving to her father’s side and perching on the arm of the chair next to him. ‘Wasn’t it, Dad?’

  Roger waggled his feet. ‘I shouldn’t take offence, Heidi,’ he said wryly. ‘At least you’re not an elephant like me.’

  ‘That’s something, I suppose,’ Heidi muttered, eyeing the pink furry footwear with disdain before brightening up. ‘Now, does anyone want to try my healthy Christmas cocktail? I got it from an Instarecipe and it’s a superfoods version.’

  Scarlett rubbed her hands together, trying to mollify her sister-in-law. ‘Luvverly. Sounds delish.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll pour you an extra large one,’ said Heidi, and scooted off to the kitchen.

  As well as the stockings, their parents had given Ellie a tiny model Porsche along with some cash to help get her ancient car repaired. Scarlett had already received a contribution towards the new laptop she was now setting up next to the TV in the sitting room. They were very thoughtful presents, even Heidi’s – she probably thought she was helping to save her sisters-in-law from a whole raft of health problems caused by addiction to Bombay Sapphire and Hotel Chocolat.

  At least, Scarlett thought, she hadn’t received A Self-Help Guide to Dating and Relationships, although it might have come in handy, considering her lack of progress since she’d split with Rafa. He’d been dark and handsome in the best Spanish tradition, a keen triathlete and a tennis player like his namesake. Maybe Heidi was hinting that Scarlett should take more exercise than the regular group swim sessions she enjoyed at her local ‘baths’ in Birmingham, although Scarlett went to the class as much for the social side as the workout.

  There was one thing for sure. She had no intention of taking the plunge while in Cornwall. A toe-dip in the waters the day before had proved that was out of the question. These folk who did Boxing Day swims were barking, she’d decided.

  Ellie opened the bottle of crème caramel liqueur that Scarlett had given her and topped up the empty eggnog glasses.

  Scarlett connected the cable from the computer to the TV, surprised to find her fingers fumbling with the connectors. She was used to giving client presentations when pitching for a copywriting project but now the moment had come, she was nervous. She’d held onto the secret for over two months now and the suspense was killing her. It seemed like forever since she’d come down to Cornwall bearing the small box that had arrived from TreeFynder, a DNA testing company and ancestry website.

  It had been Scarlett’s idea to arrange the test, which had been billed on the site as ‘The Ultimate Family Christmas Gift’. Her father, a retired civil engineer, had an interest in history and had often joked that the Lathams had Viking heritage. Marcus had often mentioned he’d be interested in finding out more too. It had seemed like the perfect celebration of the Latham family’s close bonds and an entertaining way to spend Christmas Day. She and Ellie had both agreed that Auntie Joan, who’d loved her extended family dearly, would have been delighted at the gift.

  Admittedly, the initial DNA test had been slightly gross. Scarlett and Ellie had had to spit into a pot and the test had required a surprising amount of saliva. She recalled the two of them standing in this very room all those weeks ago, reading the instructions with a mix of excitement and disgust.

  ‘Can you imagine Auntie Joan’s face, if she’d known we were spitting in her sitting room?’ Scarlett had asked.

  Ellie had laughed and held up the pot. ‘Maybe we should rename it the spitting room.’

  The results had taken about four weeks to arrive. The pots had gone off to TreeFynder.com and the results were posted online. They would reveal Scarlett and Ellie’s heritage and be linked to other people around the world who shared their DNA, if they were registered with the same company.

  It had taken everything for Scarlett not to look at the report, but it seemed like cheating if she knew the outcome ahead of everyone else, so she managed to restrain herself. She’d know everything in a few minutes, a
nyway.

  ‘Hey, you two.’ Her father, wearing a stripy apron, popped his head round the sitting room door. ‘Are you ready yet with this “big surprise”?’

  Anna followed him into the room. Their mother’s face was red from the heat of the kitchen. ‘The suspense is killing us, isn’t it, Roger?’ she said. ‘And as everything’s under control in the kitchen for a bit, can we get it over with?’

  Ellie nodded. ‘Yes. You can round up the troops, Dad, if you don’t mind.’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘It’s like herding cats, but I’ll do my best. What about the boys?’

  ‘Oh, you can leave them in the snug with their games,’ Scarlett said, aware that tearing the boys away from their Xboxes might be impossible anyway. ‘Thanks for coming all this way for Christmas.’

  ‘How could I miss it?’ He put his arm around her. ‘Especially with this big surprise you and Ellie have planned. You’ve been acting like a pair of kids for the past week. No idea what it is, though.’

  ‘All will be revealed any moment.’

  A few minutes later, Roger managed to get everyone – except the twins – gathered in the sitting room with a glass of fizz in their hands. Six pairs of eyes turned on Scarlett in expectation.

  Her parents were sharing the love seat, while Marcus and Heidi occupied the larger of the two sofas. Ellie was perched on the edge of the small sofa, a smile on her face. Only she knew what was coming. Now it came to the announcement, Scarlett had a momentary wobble. What if the gift was an anti-climax after all this build-up?

  ‘You’ve probably guessed that I’ve been up to something, and Ellie has been in on the surprise for a while. This present is especially for you, Mum, Dad and Marcus, but you’ll be interested too, Heidi.’

  Her parents exchanged glances.

  ‘You’ll love it, Dad,’ Scarlett said, mentally crossing her fingers. ‘You know how you’ve always said you must be a Viking?’

  ‘Er … Yes …’ Her dad looked a little confused. A quiet, thoughtful man with an engineer’s precise mind, he wasn’t given to effusive outbursts. However, Scarlett was convinced he’d be totally fascinated by all the data and details uncovered by the test.

  Marcus snorted. ‘What is this present? A custom-made helmet with horns?’

  Heidi sniggered. ‘Not planning on pillaging Porthmellow, are you?’

  Their mum frowned. ‘Am I the only one who’s confused?’

  ‘It’s not a helmet,’ said Scarlett. ‘It’s something even more exciting, and it’s for everyone. Now we’re going to find out if you really are a Viking, Dad. Ellie, are you set?’

  ‘Yup.’ Ellie held up her phone.

  Scarlett tapped her keyboard and a page from the TreeFynder website appeared on the telly, complete with its tree logo and banner announcing:

  Discover your roots with TreeFynder!

  She cringed at the cheesy copy on the ancestry website. Privately, she’d have loved to rewrite it all and get a new design done – as with most websites – but that was for another day.

  Marcus and her parents sat back, intent on the TV screen. Heidi crossed her legs and smiled. ‘Gosh, the suspense is killing me.’

  ‘All will become clear,’ Scarlett said dramatically, ignoring Heidi’s sarcasm but slightly disappointed by the baffled expressions of the rest of the family.

  She logged on and the screen flashed up a message:

  Congrats! Here is your Latham family tree!

  ‘A couple of months ago, Ellie and I decided to have our DNA tested, so we could find out our genetic roots, and we really will know if Dad’s a Viking.’

  Marcus let out a whistle. ‘Now this is interesting. I’ve always wanted to do this.’

  Re-sult, thought Scarlett in triumph. ‘Right. Deep breath, because neither Ellie nor I have looked at the results. We thought it would be more of a surprise for everyone that way.’

  ‘It’s been so hard not to check out the site,’ Ellie said.

  ‘Without further ado, now we find out who our ancestors were. Ta da!’ Scarlett declared and tapped her mouse pad. At the same time, Ellie clicked on her own results on her phone.

  The silence could only have lasted a second or two, but it seemed far longer to Scarlett, already wound up to fever pitch after keeping the secret for so long.

  Her mother spoke first. ‘Um. This is very exciting, I’m sure, but what does it all mean?’

  Scarlett had spent so long on the TreeFynder site, learning how to interpret the potential results of the ancestry test, that she’d forgotten the figures and tables on the screen would mean nothing to anyone but her and Ellie. The actual findings were a complete surprise to her too, but she knew what they might mean in principle.

  ‘Well, both Ellie and I have had our DNA tested, which of course tells us about the rest of our relations and ancestors – and yours.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’ Marcus leaned forward.

  ‘How fascinating,’ Heidi muttered, picking up a magazine.

  ‘Obviously it doesn’t cover Heidi, but it will show the boys’ heritage too,’ Scarlett said, hoping to win Heidi over.

  Heidi let the magazine rest in her lap, her attention caught at last.

  ‘Yes, can you please explain this to those of us still stuck in the Stone Age,’ her father said.

  ‘OK. Well, Ellie and I sent off a sample of our DNA to this ancestry site and these are the results of their analysis. This chart shows the areas of the world and types of people who are our ancestors. It says that I’m 60 per cent Iberian, 20 per cent Irish and 20 per cent other ethnicity. So – no Viking …’

  Ellie held up her phone. ‘I am! Mine says I’m 70 per cent Scandinavian, 15 per cent Irish and 15 per cent other ethnicity.’

  ‘They’re very different. Is that normal?’ Marcus asked.

  ‘According to the guidelines, siblings can have very different genetic make-ups. Dad’s the Viking and Mum’s obviously the Mediterranean one. I have a different mix of Mum and Dad’s DNA to Ellie.’

  ‘That’s no surprise. You’ve always looked like Mum,’ said Marcus.

  ‘She certainly loves her Spanish holidays,’ her father said drily. ‘Now we know why.’

  Their mother flashed a smile. ‘Which reminds me, I must go and check on the potatoes.’

  Marcus, Ellie and Scarlett exchanged wide-eyed looks, wondering how potatoes could have anything to do with Spanish holidays.

  Anna got up, holding the tea towel she’d carried in from the kitchen.

  Ellie groaned. ‘Oh, don’t miss the best bit. The potatoes can wait, Mum.’

  ‘You won’t say that when you get a plate full of blackened lumps for lunch.’

  ‘I’ll check them,’ Heidi said, clearly looking for an excuse to get away from the family love-in. Actually, Scarlett didn’t blame her on this occasion and it might be less awkward if she wasn’t there.

  ‘Are you sure you can manage?’ Anna looked worried at the prospect of Heidi handling a tray of potatoes. ‘They are roasted in goose fat, you know …’

  ‘I’ll cope somehow.’ Heidi got up and patted her shoulder. ‘You enjoy your special present, Anna.’

  Scarlett wasn’t sure if her sister-in-law was being sarcastic or not, but she let it drop. Their mum sat back down on the sofa, still clutching the tea towel.

  ‘Now, here’s the really exciting part …’ She hovered the cursor over the Find Relatives menu. ‘Who knows. We might find some long-lost second cousins on here. Maybe we’re related to royalty, like Danny Dyer is.’

  Marcus groaned. ‘God, I hope not!’

  Their father laughed.

  ‘I don’t think we’re in line for the throne, Dad, but – oh look, we have a first degree relative on the site,’ said Scarlett. ‘What a surprise. Not.’

  ‘That’ll be me, of course,’ said Ellie, clicking her phone. ‘Because we’re both registered on their database … Let’s take a look. Oh, yes … oh …’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Oh.’

  ‘What?’
Scarlett asked.

  ‘I think I’ll go and help Heidi with the roasters.’ Their mother was halfway out of the door.

  ‘Mum, wait! Stay and see some more.’ Scarlett couldn’t conceal her disappointment. Then again, it was her father who loved history.

  ‘Sprouts need putting on!’ she shouted.

  ‘This early?’ Marcus laughed. ‘Come on, Ellie, show us this relative-finder thing.’

  ‘It, um … seems to have disappeared.’ Ellie held up a black phone screen and aimed a look at Scarlett. There was desperation in her eyes.

  ‘Don’t worry, I can get it up on the telly,’ said Scarlett, cheerfully.

  ‘Wait!’

  Ellie’s cry was too late. The 72-inch screen flashed up a notification.

  You have a half-sibling on TreeFynder.

  Marcus dived on it like a hawk. ‘Half-sibling? What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Ellie couldn’t suppress her gasp and exchanged a panicky glance with Scarlett. ‘That’s wrong. It’s not possible. We don’t have any half-siblings.’

  ‘It must mean sister or brother, of course,’ said their dad. ‘It can only refer to you and Ellie.’

  It must refer to her and Ellie. Half-siblings. Scarlett went cold all over as the implications sank in like wet slush soaking through the bunny slippers. Ellie stared at her; lips pressed together. When Ellie had seen the results on her phone, she’d tried to stop Scarlett from sharing them with the rest of the family.

  ‘It must be a mistake. Let’s try again.’ Faking a sigh of exasperation, Scarlett refreshed the page, hoping against hope it would miraculously show a different answer. But a second later, it flashed up the same horrible phrase.

  You have a half-sibling on TreeFynder.

  The words leapt out at Scarlett and seared themselves on her brain. She felt sick.

  Half-sibling.

  Their father frowned at the screen. ‘I don’t understand—’