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When we woke this morning, I was astonished at the number of gifts Robert had arranged. I say arranged because it’s doubtful he even knew what was in the tastefully wrapped boxes because apparently the personal shopper was following me, too.
Subsequently, I had to administer a hard lesson in gift giving and we were nearly late as we stopped by the local hospital to gift the children’s presents to those who are in for an unhappier Christmas than our own. My gifts were given to the nurses on duty who were overcome by the generosity of a man who had never bothered with Christmas before.
It was good to do something amazing and Robert got as much pleasure from giving strangers their gifts, than he would giving them to me.
“Jess, Robert, come in.”
Sally throws open the door and we follow her inside, loving the aroma of turkey and other culinary treats.
“Robert!”
The children yell at the top of their voices and drag him into the living room to show him their presents from Santa, and Sally rolls her eyes. “Thank God for reinforcements. They were up at five and haven’t stopped since.”
I follow her into the kitchen where Anton is heating up some mulled wine and, as he ladles some into a glass, he smiles. “Happy Christmas, sis-in-law.”
“Back at you, bro-in-law.”
We clink glasses and share a grin and Sally groans. “I hope Mum and Dad aren’t late. They are so selfish. I mean, who disappears off on a cruise during the run up to Christmas? They were needed, and they were off gallivanting.”
“I was here.” I remind her and she nods, her eyes reflecting the gratitude she has expressed a thousand times already.
She lowers her voice and says playfully, “So, Robert Harvey, you dark horse. Trust you to snag yourself a billionaire; it’s not fair.”
“What are you saying?” Anton slings his arm around his wife and kisses her on the cheek.
“I wouldn’t swap you for all the billionaires in the world, darling.” She winks at me and shows me the crossed fingers beside her, and we burst out laughing as our parents stumble into the room and shout, “There they all are! Did you miss us?”
“Nanny, Grandpa!” Two exuberant children fall into the room, followed by a smiling Robert, and as he reaches my side, I grasp his hand and say proudly, “Mum, Dad, meet my boyfriend, Robert.”
“Oh, my.” Mum clasps her hand to her throat as if she’s seen the Angel Gabriel and stares at me in wonder. “You have a boyfriend. My prayers have been answered.”
Dad rolls his eyes and shakes Robert’s hand. “I’m sure I’m meant to plague you with questions about your prospects and all that nonsense, but to be honest, we are that desperate for someone to take her off our hands, all I can say is thank you.”
“Dad!” I can’t help laughing and Sally interrupts, “You don’t need to worry about Robert’s prospects, Dad, just saying.”
I nudge her sharply before frowning at my parents. “Anyway, what’s all this about winning the lottery?”
“Oh yes.” Mum looks at Dad with a sheepish expression.
“I understand we should have come clean and shared our prize fund, but well, it has always been on our bucket list, and we were in danger of never ticking it off. Easy come easy go, as they say, and you would only squander it.”
She points to Sally before directing me a short, “And you would pay some more off your mortgage rather than having fun or treating yourself, so we decided to blow the lot – except for five thousand pounds!” She shrieks and dad nods, beaming from ear to ear. “Half each for both of you. Happy Christmas, girls.”
“You mean…” Sally claps her hands. “We are all lottery winners.”
Robert slips his hand in mine and whispers, “I won the jackpot with you, Jessica. Meeting you was worth all the millions in the world.”
“Don’t you mean billions?”
I whisper against his lips and as I pull them to mine, I whisper, “My Christmas billionaire. If anyone’s lucky around here, I think you’ll find it’s me.”
* * *
Dinner is the usual chaos,full of arguments between Sally and Anton over timings and portions and over excitement on the part of the children and my mother. As usual, dad tells crude jokes and gets admonished by my mother and Sally drinks too much and plugs in the disco ball, wrenching anyone nearby from their seats to dance to Abba in any available space.
The crackers make Angelina shield her ears and Brad continually asks for someone to play with him and then we all slump in front of their huge television to watch the King’s speech.
Sally sits beside me, and as mum plays dolls with Angelina, she whispers, “I don’t know how Robert managed to get that doll. They sold out ages ago and any subsequent deliveries resulted in an all-out war.”
