Page 93 of Last Christmas in London

‘I suppose a spoonful wouldn’t hurt?’ Denise said, already standing and grabbing her pudding spoon.

‘Somebody go with her before she eats the whole thing,’ Bob suggested, looking to me as the person closest to the door. I stood with an unbecoming groan, pausing only to come back for my own spoon playfully.

I found Denise, as Bob predicted, shovelling a mouthful of trifle straight from the decorative serving bowl into her mouth.

‘Save some for me.’ I helped myself, scooping up a white chocolate Malteser from the cream for good measure.

‘Why does trifle always taste better at Christmas?’ Denise asked, reaching for the waiting pudding bowls and proper serving spoon resting on the counter.

‘It’s the sherry, it’s special Christmas sherry.’

‘That must be it.’ She handed me the first bowl so that she could scoop up the gooey trifle with one hand and protect the serving bowl with the other. ‘So, are you excited for the new job?’ She never once looked up from serving. ‘How’s the boss? Still emailing you?’

‘You caught that?’ I said, my voice dropping so the others wouldn’t hear in the dining room. Not that they could from the way they were all chortling with laughter as the sound of Alfie ripping up Josh’s wrapping paper continued in the background.

‘Of course,’ Denise said, stopping scooping for just a moment. ‘Hard to miss the constant dinging. What does he want, today of all days?’

‘Wishing me a merry Christmas,’ I said, and with a sigh I admitted, ‘And asking if I’m ready to start my new role.’

Denise sucked at her teeth. ‘Has the move got you worried?’

I shrugged. ‘It’s not the move exactly, it’s everything that goes with that.’

‘The travel? The stress? The unpacking?’ she suggested.

I shook my head. ‘Not being here again.’

‘Aha.’ Denise smiled softly, putting down the spoon and taking the last bowl of trifle from my hand before positioning both of her hands on my shoulder. ‘I know that what I’m about to say is going to come across all protective and mum-like, and you have my permission to completely disregard me as a silly old fart, but…’ She smiled as I laughed at her jolliness – helped in part by the Christmas sherry she had no doubt been sampling earlier. ‘If you don’t want to go to Toronto, my darling, don’t go.’

‘I have a contract.’

‘With a probation period?’ she asked.

I thought for a moment. There was a probation period of one month.

‘That’s usually just a chance for them to get rid of me if they don’t think I’m up to snuff.’ I began to laugh. ‘Do you think I should sabotage my work?’

‘Oh no,’ she said seriously, releasing my arms. ‘That’d give you a bad reputation. No, I meant that it’s just as much a probationary period for you as it is for them. You can leave without notice in that period, right?’

‘I mean, probably?’ I said, shrugging and picking up two of the bowls to return to the dining room and the suddenly ravenous guests. Megan was shouting, ‘Where’s my trifle!’ despite only complaining about her fullness five minutes before.

‘Double check and find out,’ Denise suggested with a wink.

‘I’ll be without a job though,’ I pointed out and she pfted.

‘So? You’ll find another one. In England,’ she clarified. ‘And until then, you can come and stay here rent-free.’

‘I couldn’t do that?’ I protested.

‘Why not? You’re family.’

‘Denise,’ I began stiffly, and she tutted again.

‘You’re just as much as my little girl as Megan is, Evelyn,’ she said, suddenly serious. ‘To me and Bob, both.’

I didn’t know what to do with that. Not because I didn’t want it, but because part of me had spent years quietly believing it would be asking too much.

And here she was saying it so plainly, with no hesitation or conditions attached.