‘No, love,’ she shouts from the kitchen. ‘It’s in the wash. Spilled me bloody Advocaat down it, didn’t I? I do love a fluffy duck, though.’
Hearing this said in a cockney accent, it’s very hard not to think it’s rhyming slang for something more vulgar than a harmless cocktail.
‘Sorry, everyone. I couldn’t drag myself out of bed.’
I turn to see Kate sheepishly hovering at the door. She’s wearing her jeans and the long, black baggy jumper she wears when she’s feeling bloated or just unhappy with her body. My heart sinks. Fuck– that comment I made yesterday. It was mean and completely unnecessary.
‘There’s my favourite daughter-in-law!’ Mum exclaims, over the top of a huge tray of dead animal flesh. ‘Don’t stand on ceremony, lovely, sit down.’
‘I told you to let me carry that, Yvonne,’ Dad says but she shoos him away, placing it in the centre of the table.
Kate smiles and pulls out the chair beside me. ‘Smells amazing,’ she praises, picking up a cup. ‘And you look wonderful, Yvonne. Love that colour on you. Is that jade?’
‘Emerald green,’ my mum replies, as she heads to the kitchen. ‘John Lewis sale. Gladsomeonenoticed.’
My dad and I glance at each other in shame. He follows Mum into the kitchen and returns with my plate, assuring me that it wasn’t cooked with the ‘real food’.
‘Dig in, everyone,’ Mum instructs, passing the ketchup to Dad.
I grab some more toast and fold it around some vegan bacon and brown sauce, immediately feeling more human.
As I see Kate spear a couple of sausages and some mushrooms, it occurs to me that it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her eat breakfast. She’s usually leaving for work, while I’m getting ready, then she’ll grab something from Pret or Starbucks on the way in; though she’ll always make sure to fill up the teapot for me before she leaves.
‘Now after breakfast, I’m stealing this one for a girlie chat,’ Mum announces, much to Kate’s surprise.
‘Oh, well, I’ve actually got a couple of things I need to—’
‘Nothing that can’t wait, I’m sure,’ I say, through gritted teeth. She can’t seriously be thinking about working today. She smiles at me, but I can tell she’s plotting my demise. Something painful if the kick to my shin is any indication.
‘We’ll have a nice walk,’ Mum continues. ‘Maybe pop into the Outdoor Shop, I could use some new gloves for this evening– it’s to be a cold one.’
‘This evening?’ I ask, through a mouthful of beans. ‘You going out?’
‘We all are,’ Mum replies. ‘Carol concert, up the Devil’s Arse. Ring any bells? I mean we only do it every year, Ed.’
‘Oh yeah,’ I say. ‘Must have slipped my mind.’
‘And I was going to wait till later, but since we’re on the subject. . .’ She reaches to the side of the table and lifts two parcels, wrapped in shiny red paper. ‘You’ll be needing these.’
Mine feels squishy. It feels like a jumper.
‘What have you done, Mum?’ I ask, tentatively removing the paper, while Kate tears at hers. ‘Please tell me these aren’t—’
‘Matching Christmas jumpers.’
I turn towards Kate’s voice and see her holding up a Rudolph jumper. The same one I’ve just unwrapped.
Mum almost bursts with delight and screeches while Dad chuckles and slaps me on the back. ‘We’ve all got them. If you press the nose, it lights up. Hilarious!’
If Kateisgoing to kill me, now would be the perfect time.
Kate
‘Did you know that you can only mine Blue John here in the whole of the UK?’ Yvonne asks as we stroll through the village. ‘That always amazes me.’
‘Hmm,’ I reply. ‘Isn’t that something.’
Sometimes I think that Yvonne forgets I grew up here. She often regales me with facts about Castleton that I learned in primary school, long before she even moved here. It’s like me taking her round the East End of London and asking her if she’s heard of Jack the Ripper.
