‘Yup,’ I reply. ‘But no point in both of us enduring the wrath of my mother, eh?’
‘You look great,’ he says, still in a whisper and it sends a shiver up my spine. He’s the only man I know who can make a simple compliment sound completely dirty. I may not be sure about my future with Ed, but it appears that my libido is quite certain where its loyalties lie. Get a fucking grip, Kate, I clear my throat before thanking him.
He smiles and starts to walk away but pauses at the door. ‘Kate, I think we need to—’
‘Will you two hurry up– we’re starving in here!’
I grimace at the decibel level of my mum’s voice. ‘Just coming!’ I shout back in a far more civilised tone.
‘We can talk about whatever it is later,’ I inform Ed. ‘Jesus, her voice booms like she’s about to climb down a frickin’ beanstalk.’
Ed
I take my seat beside Kate as Gary brings in the turkey, smiling politely while everyone oohs and ahhs at the sight of a slaughtered animal. They’re lucky I’m not at all militant about my vegetarianism, unlike my colleague Jane, the Religious and Moral Education teacher who likes to ambush carnivores in the staffroom and ask if they know how their lunch was killed.
Still, I’m looking forward to Christmas lunch, now that Gary has taken the reins. He’s a tremendous cook anyway, and he even has his own vegetable patch and greenhouse. I once told Kate I’d like to get an allotment. She threatened to have me sectioned.
An allotment? Good grief, Ed, you’re twenty-six. Do you also want to start pulling your trousers up to your nipples and go on a cruise?
My main course this year is a beetroot, Stilton and kale Wellington, which smells fantastic. Even Gubba considers trying some. While we all make conversation, I notice the familiar scent of the perfume Kate’s used to mask the cigarette stench. It’s the one I bought her for her birthday last year. The one she keeps for special occasions. The one she dabs on her finger, then runs between her—
‘Breast or thigh?’
Fucking hell. Never has a question been timed so perfectly. I inadvertently laugh, causing everyone to look at me like I’m an idiot.
‘Thigh,’ Gary replies, while I snort into my napkin. ‘You all right there, Ed?’
I nod, trying to compose myself. ‘Sorry, just thought of something funny, ignore me.’
‘Share it, then,’ Gubba insists. ‘I’m sure we’d all like a laugh.’
‘Is it a joke?’ Tom asks, stabbing a carrot. ‘I know some jokes.’
Oh god. They’re all staring. My urge to shout ‘GUBBA SMOKED TOO’ is overwhelming. Think, Ed, think! ‘No, I was just thinking about that time when. . . Gubba set the Christmas pudding on fire.’
‘Oh my god!’ Paula exclaims. ‘I’d forgotten about that!’
Tom stops eating and gasps. ‘Gubba set the pudding on fire?’
Gary nods, offering his son some potatoes. ‘Before you were born. It was the Christmas before Kate and Ed left for university. She set the fire alarm off and everything.’
‘I did not,’ Gubba insists, smirking. ‘It was a gentle flame.’
‘Oh, you did,’ Kate interjects, laughing. ‘You almost incinerated it. Gary was as white as a sheet, thinking we’d have to evacuate and call the fire brigade.’
Paula’s almost in tears. ‘Then he panicked and threw the trifle on it. The trifle!’
Even Gubba’s in stitches. ‘Aye, I might have been a smidge over eager with the brandy.’
‘Do you have any funny stories about one of my Christmases?’ Tom asks. He looks so innocent, even down to his blond hair. Well, maybe not so much today, as it’s all messy and spiky, like a villain from theBeano.
I pause. I can’t think of a single thing.
‘When you were about four, you, me and Ed made the most amazing pillow fort.’
I finally turn to look at Kate.
‘We did?’ he asks. ‘Where?’
