Page 10 of Winter With You

Was she talking to her parents’ butler? Or was it the Christmas tree? After another Baileys and more champagne, Gabriella was realising she was as far from sober curious as she had been in months. She tried to live as ‘clean’ as possible, to set Phoebe a good example and she also had to follow the life lessons in her own book. Reputation was important, All Chapters Publishing reminded her on an almost weekly basis and the money from the book wasn’t just providing an income for her and Phoebe, it was buying them their freedom from family finances. Suddenly, her arm knocked a bauble on the tree – or Milo – she still didn’t know.

‘You’re drunk, Gabriella.’

But that voice she recognised. Her mother was in the hallway with her now.

‘I didn’t want to ruin a good party,’ Gabriella answered.

‘Let us keep it that way. I will call you a car and Phoebe can stay here the night.’

‘No,’ Gabriella said immediately. ‘No, Phoebe is not staying here. We have to pack for New York and⁠—’

‘And you are in no fit state to look after her. Plus, you step outside that door with Phoebe in your care, there could be paparazzi ready to take your photo and that would absolutely damage your reputation at a crucial time for your book.’

‘Phoebe is not staying here the night and I am not drunk,’ Gabriella stated. And it was at that moment her foot decided to slip in her boots. A bauble fell off the tree and hit the tiles.

‘I suppose it very much depends on an individual’s perception but, you know, some people have such wide parameters of what’s socially acceptable these days.’ Monica took a breath. ‘It’s how all the so-called mighty fall in the end. Look at David Walliams.’

‘Phoebe!’ Gabriella hollered as Milo appeared with her coat. He was a bit blurry around the edges, fir-tinged even.

‘Gabriella, I have to ask, do you think now is the right time for you to be dipping a toe into the American pond? It’s very different over there. Very big. It’s one thing to be comfortable with GMB on ITV but quite another to be thinking Good Morning America.’

‘Phoebe!’ Gabriella yelled again. She was fighting her arms into her coat like it was a straitjacket…

‘Shall I ask Miss Felix to come?’ Milo asked Monica.

‘No!’

‘Yes!’ Gabriella countered. ‘And I have no idea what you mean about the American pond. This isn’t toe-dipping; the book is already a bestseller over there. This is a lot about being thankful and a little about getting readers ready for the second book.’

Shit. She hadn’t meant to say that. She shouldn’t have said that. She could already see, even through her – admittedly – slightly blurred vision, that her mother was getting ready to strike like a poisonous viper.

‘Second book?’

She had a few options, but the only one that had the potential to work was gaslighting. If she could maintain a poker face. Hard when your bodily functions have been taken over by an Irish cream liqueur…

‘I told you about it months ago, at its initial conception stage.’

‘You did not.’

‘I did. We were at that thing at Phoebe’s school and you got that phone call and had to leave early. You’ve forgotten.’

‘I don’t forget, Gabriella.’

That was scarily true but both of them also knew that Gabriella was not one for backing down. ‘None of us are infallible. Especially as we get older.’ Perhaps that was a touch too much.

‘Are we going?’

Phoebe arrived and that shot of purity, innocence and essence of Lulu flooded Gabriella’s good sense.

‘Yes,’ Gabriella said, buttoning up her coat.

‘Darling,’ Monica said, putting her hands on Phoebe’s shoulders. ‘You don’t have to go. If you’re tired of the party you can go up to your room and listen to music. Perhaps you might find Santa Claus has visited early.’

‘There’s a gift?’ Phoebe asked, excitement evident.

‘Maybe one or two,’ Monica answered, eyes glistening. Victoriously.

‘Perhaps one of them is a cute little doggy,’ Gabriella said snidely. ‘Shut in that room for hours while the grown-ups had fun.’