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“Happy Christmas, Melly!” Her dad grins cheerily into the camera—his ears a little more sunburned again than earlier in the week.
“Darling!” Her mum beams. “Happy Christmas!”
“And to you both! What time is it there? What have you been doing?”
“Oh, it’s around midday I think,” her mum says, waving a hand in the air.
“You think?”
“Well, it’s a little tricky to keep track of time when you’re having fun, isn’t it! We’ve been for cocktails on the beach this morning, darling—can you imagine? Cocktails! On the beach! In the morning! On Christmas Day!”
Given the slightly tipsy air to both of her parents, Mel very much can imagine, but she doesn’t say that.
“Anyway, how are you?” her mum asks. “You look well. Doesn’t she look well, Gavin?”
“Very well,” her dad agrees.
“Spending time with Priya is clearly good for you,” her mum says. And it is easier, all things considered, to “mmmm” in agreement. “What are you doing today, then? Any plans?”
“Oh, just the usual. Dinner and a walk, you know,” Mel says, feeling a knot of guilt in her stomach for the lie. But her parents seem flushed and happy and tipsy—and she does not want to ruin that by telling them who she has been sleeping next to this week. “And you? What’s on the agenda for this afternoon?”
“Our hotel is having a special Christmas dinner, then we might go and see if our local beach bar is open for an evening tipple,” her mum says, eyes bright. Mel can see she’s loving saying “our local beach bar” and feels a rush of affection. “Oh, and, darling, you’ll never guess what!”
“What?” Mel says obediently.
“I’ve had a business idea!”
“Oh! Really?”
“Yes, you know, I thought about doing recipes for people, and they can subscribe and I’ll send them new ones every week.”
“Ah…Like Mindful Chef?”
Her mum frowns. “Hmmm. Never heard of that one, love. Can’t be doing very well if we’ve not heard of them, can they? Poor loves. But, you know, we get those vegetable boxes every week, but we don’t always know what to do with them, do we, Gavin?”
“Not a clue,” her dad pipes up.
“This would be recipes to help people.”
“So you’ll send the food and the recipes together?” Mel is trying hard not to point out how many companies already do this.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe just the recipes—bit easier, isn’t it? Anyway. We’ll have a little chat about it when I’m back. You can give me all the tips.”
“Sure, Mum.” She thinks again of what Finn said last night by the car. That her parents would be proud of her, even if the business failed. Now, she decides, is not the time to test that theory.
She says goodbye to her parents, tells them to send lots of photos of their day, and immediately gets one of them beaming into the camera, side by side, in exactly the same place as she left them. She laughs quietly to herself, then switches to WhatsApp, starting a voice note.
“Priya! Happy Christmas! I realize it’s the end of the day for you there now—but how was the barbecue? How was your first Australian Christmas?” She stops recording. She wants to tell Priya about Finn, but she’s not sure how she’d react. And she really, really wants to tell her about Susan, to have someone to talk to about it—but that all feels too much for a voice note on Christmas morning. “I’ve been having a nice time, actually, and I’m looking forward to eating way too much today. Hope you’re good!”
She presses send, though the voice note feels incredibly inadequate. God, she misses her. It would be so much easier if Priya was nearby—if she was able to go and spend New Year with her, or even just call her in the same time zone.
She gets dressed, choosing her sparkly Let Christmas Be-Gin jumper that she bought especially, plus snowflake earrings—not one of her own designs this time. She’s putting red lipstick on in the mirror—because why not?—when her phone lights up.
A voice note from Priya. That was quick.
Mel! Christmas has been great. Good. Fine. No, good. We’ve been on the beach alll day. Anyway, I’m fine! Australia is GREAT. So sunny, and people went swimming today, Mel! In the sea! I mean, I didn’t. But I could have, if I wanted to. I just got off the phone with my parents. They are good. They say they miss you. I mean, I think they miss me more, but still.
The bedroom door opens as Priya’s message finishes.
