He bobs his head in agreement and motions for the bill.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Matt, if I knew you could cook Christmas dinner this well, I’d have insisted you make this at least twice a week. Can’t believe you’ve kept this talent hidden all these years.’
Our early Christmas dinner is off to a flying start. Alfie has already pulled all the crackers and theGreatest Christmas Songs Ever Volume 2plays merrily throughout the flat, which for once isn’t festively decorated like two uncoordinated, lazy men live there. Presents have been exchanged, we have a tinsel-covered tree, a laughing, animated Santa and a small boy who is loving every second of it. He whispered earlier that he’d hidden the photo key ring we bought under his mattress ready for Christmas morning. It’s funny how that’s instinctively the place boys choose to hide things from their mothers. I remind him to make sure he brings it to his grandparents’ house.
Matt beams proudly before brushing it off as ‘nothing’, when in reality, he’s outdone himself trying to impress his new girlfriend with his culinary skills. I think he even made his own damn gravy.
‘So good,’ Sarah agrees through a mouthful of glazed parsnips. ‘I won’t have to eat for a week!’
‘Leave room for dessert,’ Matt insists. ‘I’m not the only chef in attendance this evening.’
‘Chef is a bit of a reach,’ I reply. ‘It’s just a trifle. Nothing fancy.’
‘Trifle is Alfie’s favourite pudding,’ Sarah informs me while he nods enthusiastically.
‘Then I think Alfie should get the first bowl.’
I take some dirty plates to the kitchen and open the fridge. Then I close the fridge.
‘Alfie?’
‘Yes?’
‘What’s your second favourite pudding?’
Seconds later everyone is in the kitchen, staring at my trifle. My soupy, unappetising, horror show of a trifle.
‘Did you drop it?’ Matt asks, poking the runny cream with a spoon. A lump of pineapple floats to the surface like a dead body. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
Sarah peers into the bowl for closer inspection. ‘Let me guess. . . squirty canned cream and all of the juice from the canned fruit?’
I nod, watching Alfie disappointedly return to the living room in search of more crackers.
She grins. ‘I’ve fucked up a few trifles in my time.’
Matt swirls around the unset jelly with his spoon. ‘Kind of looks like he actually fucked it, though.’
Sarah snorts and I consider leaving the planet. I’m mortified. I had one job.
Matt sees my look of despair and slaps me on the back. ‘Nothing that Tesco can’t fix. . . Alfie! Put your shoes on, I need your help to save dinner, buddy!’
Alfie obliges, excitedly accepting his new mission, and heads to the shop with Matt, while Sarah and I start clearing the dinner plates.
‘Well, that’s embarrassing,’ I mumble, draining the trifle goop. ‘I should just have bought something to begin with.’
‘Nah,’ Sarah replies. ‘I’m not so hot in the kitchen either. I once made a date a cup of milky gravy with two sugars because the jars looked the same. I wasn’t even drunk.’
I laugh but I still feel like an idiot.
‘So only three more days at the grotto?’ she asks, wiping the placemats. ‘You’ll be relieved.’
I throw some cutlery into the sink and pause. ‘You know, I thought I would be, but I’m actually kind of sad. I’ve enjoyed working there. Even with Izzy.’
‘I can’t wait to be away for two weeks,’ Sarah replies. ‘Being the assistant manager at Belle Blend isn’t as glamourous as it sounds, you know.’
I smirk. ‘Try repeating the same thing over and over to children all day.’
