Matt turns to look at me, a grin slowly appearing on his face.
‘Alexa, play “Santa Baby”.’
‘So, Nick. Tell me about this girl Matt is seeing, because it’s like pulling teeth trying to get anything out of him. You know what he’s like.’
Matt picks up a little Christmas pudding salt shaker, rolling his eyes like a stroppy teenager. ‘Really, Mum? I’m right here.’
There’s enough food here to feed an entire army: turkey, beef, cocktail sausages, three kinds of stuffing, pickles, potatoes, home-made cranberry sauce, and veg prepared in ways I can’t even pronounce. They even have thegoodChristmas crackers, not the ones that fail to bang and contain terrible jokes and choking hazards.
‘Sarah? She’s cool,’ I reply, spooning some more sprouts on to my plate. ‘I mean, who knew Russian brides were so affordable!’
Matt’s dad laughs out loud while his mum looks momentarily horrified.
‘He’s kidding, Mum,’ Matt quickly interjects, glaring at me to help reassure his mother. ‘She’s an assistant manager in a coffee shop. . . she studied in the Cotswolds which is where she’s spending Christmas with her family.’
‘Oh, the Cotswolds are lovely,’ Matt’s mum interjects, now considerably less aghast. ‘Your dad and I have been there several times. Beautiful churches.’
‘You’ll like Sarah, Mrs B,’ I confirm. ‘She’s a great mum—’
‘She has a child?’
I grin as Maureen’s eyebrows rise far above the rim of her glasses.
‘Well, that’s. . . unexpected.’
Matt nods. ‘Alfie. He’s four. They’re both fantastic. I’m very happy, Mum, you can relax. This one’s a keeper.’
‘That’s great news, son,’ his dad says. ‘We look forward to meeting her.’
As I watch Matt’s mum grin from ear to ear, I can’t help but feel gutted. Having the whole family now invested in this relationship makes my stupid heart hurt. It makes their relationship even more solid. As much as I want to be happy for him, inside I want to be the one boasting about Sarah, because no one else, not even Matt, could possibly do her justice.
‘And you, Nick?’ she asks, pouring me some more wine. ‘How are things with you?’
‘Um. . . good,’ I reply, glancing at a smirking Matt who knows that it’s now my turn under the parental microscope. Christ, I feel about fifteen again. ‘Not much to report! These sprouts are a triumph, Mrs B, did you—’
‘Don’t be modest, Nick!’ Matt insists, his smirk now morphing into something that resembles payback for the Russian brides remark. ‘I’m sure they’d love to hear all about your new work situation!’
‘Did Kensington Fox finally promote one of you boys?’ James asks.
I smile politely at Matt’s dad and shake my head. ‘Not quite. . . I’m no longer working there. Funny story, actually; you see—’
‘Not only did he get food poisoning and throw up on a client’s wife,’ Matt informs them, ‘he also took the rap for some junior’s filing mistake, so he got the boot. Noble, but ultimately stupid.’
If Matt was my actual brother, I’d have given him a dead arm by now. Possibly a wedgie.
‘Oh, my goodness!’ Maureen exclaims. ‘Sorry to hear that, Nick. So where are you working now?’
‘The North Pole,’ Matt mumbles through a mouth full of turkey. ‘He’s Santa.’
‘Oh, behave,’ his mum scolds, ‘that’s ridiculous. You boys and your jokes.’
‘Ridiculous, yes, but true nonetheless,’ I confess, my face rapidly becoming the colour of the cranberries. ‘Southview Shopping Centre. . . well, until yesterday – there’s not much use for a Santa after Christmas Eve. So, I guess I’m officially out of work again! Yay, me!’
A hush falls over the table as I reach for the roast potatoes and for a moment, I start to panic that I’ve just ruined everyone’s dinner with my depressing tale of Christmas unemployment. Even Harvey gives a little whine from his bed in the corner of the dining room.
Nice one, Nick. Maybe bring up your mum later for some real festive cheer!
‘Well, Nick,’ James finally says. ‘I guess it’s safe to say. . . you’re a bit of a lostClaus.’
