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‘So, what’s the plan with the food?’ I asked, looking forward to the cooking chaos. ‘I’ll be your willing sous-chef – as always – just tell me what you need.’
‘Rachael and David aren’t coming until 2 p.m. so we have plenty of time,’ Xavier said, easy and relaxed. ‘We take our time over breakfast, we get ready – maybe a Christmas day plunge to get the blood pumping, and then we start cooking around 12 p.m. to eat at 4 p.m.’
‘4 p.m.?’ I said, incredulously. ‘That’s almost the end of the day!’
‘It’s a dinner-lunch. Dunch.’ Xavier replied.
I savoured the final mouthful of my breakfast, sad to see it go. This was going to be quite different to every other Christmas cooking experience I’d had. The adrenaline rush of speed-chopping vegetables while Jamie Oliver reassured me on timings from the TV. George would only eat PAXO stuffing, his mum didn’t eat peas but loved green beans, his dad liked a Yorkshire pudding but only if it was Aunt Bessie’s, whereas Mum liked hers homemade. Dad wasn’t keen on turkey, so I always did him a steak and George’s sister was a vegan, so her stuffed mushrooms had to be cooked away from everything else. It was quite the bloody effort. I was used to running around non-stop, smeared in olive oil, checking everyone was okay. Always the last to get dressed, without a scrap of make-up on for the Christmas photos. I fleetingly wondered who would be cooking for George and his family this year.
‘Dunch sounds good,’ I said, ‘but I’ll give the plunge pool a miss.’
‘Come on Holly – it’ll make you feel alive,’ Xavier said, loading our plates into the dishwasher and heading down the corridor.
‘Honestly, I just don’t…’like it,I finished silently. In fact, I hated it.
‘You might not get another chance to plunge first thing on Christmas Day,’ Xavier called, disappearing into his bedroom.
Good. I didn’t want to experience any more freezing-cold moments in that pool of hell.
‘I’ll see you in the kitchen in ten,’ I shouted after him. ‘Enjoy!’
I jumped in the shower and felt perfectly alive enjoying the hot water thundering down on my head. I didn’t need an icy shock to get my blood pumping. I felt clean and healthy and my skin was flushed and fresh. I put my Christmas outfit on – I’d bought a traditional Swiss jumper in navy and paired it with my jeans and trainers. We weren’t officially working so we could cook in our real clothes like normal people. My bob had grown out and my hair was nearly to my shoulders, so I tied it up in a ponytail and took my box of presents from Mum and Dad into the kitchen. Xavier was already in there wearing the red version of my jumper and looked up with a smile.
‘Do you feel better for it?’ I asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ he said, looking pained, ‘I feel like I might keel over at any moment.’
I put my present box by the door as a reminder to put it under the tree upstairs.
‘Ah, Holly, how thoughtful,merci! I have a little something for you too,’ Xavier said, rooting around in the cupboard and pulling out a beautifully wrapped present.
‘Oh. Wow, thank you,’ I said, taken aback. ‘I’m so sorry, this isn’t for you, actually; it’s a present from home for me.’
‘Of course,’ Xavier said, slightly pink, ‘I didn’t mean you should have…’
‘I did get you a little something, though,’ I called, as I legged it back to the bedroom to grab the tiny presents I’d bought for Xavier, Liv, Rachael and David.
‘Non, non, please, don’t worry,’ Xavier shouted after me.
My gift was embarrassingly small in comparison. ‘I hadn’t realised we were buying for each other properly,’ I said, apologetically, as I carefully opened the pillow of a present Xavier had given me, the gold foil crinkling between my fingers. A North Face ski jacket sprang out from the wrapping, and I was almost too shocked to speak.
‘Xavier! You can’t buy me a ski jacket; it’s too much!’ I said, slightly overwhelmed.
‘Not at all. I used the vouchers, so it was no trouble. I don’t think Luca took you shopping?’
‘No, he didn’t.’
‘Of course he didn’t. He is all talk and no trousers. Or no jacket, in this case. Your jacket isn’t warm enough, so it’s important.’
‘I can’t believe it!’ I threw my arms around Xavier and kissed him on the cheek. ‘It’s perfect!’
‘I’m glad you like it,’ he said, with a shy smile.
I tried it on over my Christmas jumper and ran to the bathroom mirror. It was gorgeous. Deep purple, warm but not too padded, long enough to cover my bum, but chic and tight and flattering. I ran back to the kitchen to show Xavier again and do a twirl.
‘What do you think?’ I asked, putting my hands in the pockets and freezing as if on a catwalk.
‘Very nice,’ Xavier laughed. I changed pose and shaded my eyes pretending to look into the sun. ‘Yes, yes, you look like a member of the Olympic ski team.’
