Johnny proceeded to read the message aloud.
Dear Not So Scrummy Mummy. I wholeheartedly agree. You are not scrummy in the slightest.
Johnny winced.
‘Keep going…’ Nathalie said, ‘It gets worse!’
Johnny cleared his throat.
Your bad dye job, over plucked eyebrows and disastrous dresssense quite frankly appal me. What intrigues me the most is why you think we should care about the vacant drivel you deem worthy of posting. Surely you would be better off putting your time towards looking after your children than wasting it on a series of posts that I can honestly say are the most boring, pointless musings I have ever had the displeasure of reading. I won’t be bothering with your content again. Why don’t you do us all a favour and go back to the day job. Happy Christmas.
‘How rude!’ Helena could hardly believe her ears. ‘Who writes something like that? And on Christmas Day of all days?’
‘I know!’ Nathalie said before promptly bursting into tears.
Helena reached out and put her arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. ‘Ignore it. People like that can’t think of anything nice to say about anyone.’
‘Exactly,’ Johnny agreed. ‘They spend their whole lives traipsing around the internet looking for people to be mean to.’
‘I know. Normally I’ve got a very thick skin,’ Nathalie sniffed. ‘I’m just tipsy, that’s all.’
‘You know what they say,’ Johnny said. ‘If you haven’t got something nice to say you shouldn’t say anything at all. But some people just can’t help themselves. And I can assure you, I love your dress sense, and your hair. And your eyebrows… for what it’s worth.’
‘So do I!’ Helena said. ‘I bet you get just as many messages telling you how you’ve changed their life and inspired them for the better. I love your posts.’
‘You’ve seen them?’ Nathalie seemed surprised.
‘Yes I have. I think you’re amazing. And so funny.’
‘Oh thanks Helena, that means a lot.’ Nathalie reached for an abandoned Christmassy napkin and blew her nose noisily.
‘And I’m about to. I shall be your latest follower,’ Johnny announced.
‘I’m not sure you’re quite my target audience,’ Nathalie laughed. ‘But thanks anyway.’
‘I’m sure it will be enlightening!’
‘Oh god, I’m not sure I want you to know…’
At that moment a blood-curdling yell echoed through the air, followed by shouts of ‘Mum! Come! Quick!’
Helena, Nathalie and Johnny rushed outside to find Meg lying flat on the ground, clutching her wrist and rolling around in pain.
‘She fell off, the bench,’ Ned shrugged.
‘Oh Meg, sweetie.’ Nathalie rushed to her daughter’s side as Maisy looked on, aghast.
‘Can you bend it?’
Meg whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Thankfully, after a lengthy examination it appeared that the wrist was not broken, which was lucky as no one was sober enough to drive her to A&E. When the shock of falling had subsided and Meg had been placated with a promise of watching a movie with a bag of peas on her wrist, Nathalie and her kids set off for Stable Cottages.
As they left, Johnny and Helena closed the front door behind them and turned to survey the damage. The house looked like it had been struck by a tornado of glitter-covered wrapping paper, abandoned drinks, segments of pulled crackers, discarded paper crowns and dirty dishes. It felt a lot less crowded with four fewer bodies crammed inside it. Margery was still upstairs, worn out after the festivities. Johnny played some old school Christmas tunes on the speaker and they set about clearing up, despite Helena’s insistence that Johnny should sit down and relax having done most of the cooking, apart from the Christmas pudding, which Helena had made and set ablaze in a flicker of blue flames to great applause.
‘No way, we will do it together and it’ll be much faster. Then we can collapse in front of a movie, let me just chuck a few more logs on.’
Helena made a start while Johnny stoked the fire and then nipped out to feed the pigs. While Podge and Perkins merrily chomped on their own version of a Christmas dinner, Helena and Johnnycleared the sitting room and the kitchen. They loaded the machine, washed and dried all the pots and pans, storing the leftovers in the fridge while singing along to the Christmas music as they worked. Helena wondered once again whether Johnny was interested in Nathalie. She knew he must find her attractive, she was undeniably beautiful. She had been watching Nathalie to see if the feeling was mutual. She had noticed Nathalie’s gaze lingering on Johnny once or twice over the course of the day. And Johnny had seemed quite protective after reading that horrible message.
