Josh looked sheepish. ‘The thing is, we’ve managed to get a couple of tickets for the match now,’ he mumbled.
‘It’s a big game,’ chipped in Freddie.
They’re all big bloody games. ‘How about Sunday?’
‘Sunday’s the kids’ tournament, remember? I’m ref for that one.’
‘The referee’s a wanker,’ chanted Freddie, pointing at Josh.
Lizzie wanted to throw a cushion at both their heads. ‘Let’s talk about this later,’ she sighed.
‘Alright,’ said Josh. He gave her his widest don’t-be-mad-at-me eyes. ‘I’ll make it up to you. Maybe I can do a few this week after work instead?’
‘OK. Are you hungry?’
‘I’m famished,’ said Freddie. ‘What time’s dinner?’
I take it you’re staying, then? ‘About half an hour.’
‘Oh.’ Freddie turned his attention back to the telly and whacked the volume up. ‘What the hell is he doing? I’ve seen parked cars go quicker than that …’
Lizzie couldn’t listen to them any more. She went back into the kitchen and began to prepare the food, taking her frustration out on the mince as she jabbed at it with a wooden spoon. No one had ever told her that planning a wedding would feel like this much hard work. The bridal magazines made it all sound so glamorous and fabulous.
Her mind drifted back to the relaxed wedding she’d once dreamed of, without any of the fuss. She couldn’t help wondering how different things might have been if she’d been doing all this with Alex. It suddenly occurred to her that maybe he was already married, or engaged, planning an elaborate extravaganza of his own elsewhere with some spreadsheet-wielding fiancée. It wasn’t a vision she could easily picture, or perhaps she just didn’t want to. Still, she was pretty sure he’d have hated a big, conventional bash.
She threw a tin of chopped tomatoes into the pan and squished them forcefully against the sides. Alex’s return had wound her up in a way she hadn’t expected. He couldn’t have picked a worse time, could he? Like he was waiting for me to be happy again, just so he could come back and spoil it. The more she thought about it, the more she began to burn with anger. Who does he think he is? The heat from the hob made her temperature surge even higher, until she felt she was at boiling point.
For a split second, she wished she could run away, just as Alex had done all those years ago. Quit her job. Leave town. Tell Freddie where to stick it on her way out. The thought was incredibly tempting, but even as she savoured it, she knew she was kidding herself. That sort of thing only happened in trashy soaps and Hollywood movies, not suburban Surrey.
Besides, I do love Josh. I’d miss him a lot.
‘Hey Lizzie, can you grab us a couple more cans, please?’ Freddie yelled from the front room. She gave the mince a violent stir.
Him, not so much.
Lizzie reached under the Christmas tree and retrieved an envelope with her name on it in swirly black biro. The spruce was huge – almost touching the ceiling – and haphazardly strewn with decorations, from fairy lights to tinsel to chocolates. It was a far cry from the small artificial version at her parents’ house, with its tasteful red and silver baubles and solitary star. This one was uninhibited, unashamed and beautiful. She decided then and there that if she and Alex had a family of their own someday, they would have a tree just like this one, in all its delightful disarray.
Opening the envelope carefully, she extracted a card and two crisp £10 book vouchers. ‘Oh, thank you,’ she said, smiling at Alex’s parents. ‘I know exactly what I’m going to get with this. There are a couple of new novels I’ve been dying to read.’
‘I’m sorry it’s not more exciting,’ said his mum Pamela, a slim woman in her late 40s with a mass of bottle-blonde hair and kind blue eyes. ‘Alex told us you were into books, but we didn’t know what you’d got already.’
‘No really, it’s brilliant.’ Vouchers were better than cash because they had to be spent on something readable, rather than getting frittered away on something boring like the looming electricity bill.
‘I do like a good bookshop, don’t you?’ his mum continued. ‘More than that online jungle …’
‘I think you mean Amazon, Mum,’ Alex interrupted, trying not to laugh. He caught Lizzie’s eye and she had to bite her lip to stifle her giggles.
‘Right, who’s next?’ said Alex’s dad, his voice booming around the homely living room. Frank Jackson had a hearing impairment that always made him seem as if he was shouting. Lizzie had found it pretty daunting at first, but now she was starting to get used to it, like watching TV with the volume turned up too loud.
‘I am!’ said Andi, a bubbly 18-year-old who Lizzie had immediately recognised with relief as the pretty blonde from his corkboard. Her real name was Andrea, but Alex said no one had called her that for years. She reached for a parcel and gouged at the wrapping paper with her crimson talons. Inside was a pair of expensive-looking hair straighteners. ‘Yes! You got the right ones. Thanks, Mum! You too, Dad.’
‘Don’t thank us – thank Santa,’ came the deafening reply.
‘Oh Dad, you know you can stop that now.’
Just then, Alex’s brother trudged downstairs in tracksuit bottoms and a crumpled white T-shirt, his hair ruffled and his eyes barely open. Though they weren’t identical twins, he looked even more like Alex in the flesh, with the same muscular build and strong features. From a distance it could have been hard to tell them apart, bar the series of distinctive Sanskrit tattoos running down his right arm. Today, however, he also seemed a little worse for wear, resembling a picture of prehistoric man.
‘Afternoon, Connor,’ said Mr Jackson. ‘Glad you could join us.’
‘Yeah, sorry, Dad. Turned into a bit of a heavy session last night. I was only planning to stop by for one.’ He yawned loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth. ‘Could you give me a lift into town later to fetch the bike? I had to leave it there.’ Lizzie still hadn’t seen the famous bike, but she knew from Alex it was his brother’s pride and joy, a Honda Fireblade he had spent two years saving up for while working at the local gym.
‘Well, not really. I promised your mother I’d give her a hand with the food.’
‘I’ll run you down in a bit,’ said Alex. ‘But I’ve got a couple more presents to give first.’ He held out his hand to Lizzie. ‘They’re upstairs.’
‘I bet they are,’ grinned Connor cheekily.
‘Eeeew,’ groaned Andi. ‘No sex jokes in front of the olds, please.’
‘Less of the old, missy,’ yelled Mr Jackson. Lizzie guessed he was joking, but it was hard to tell at that volume. She absorbed the banter between them like a Christmas pudding soaking up brandy, enjoying the warmth of their comfortable familiarity. It was the first time she had ever spent Christmas away from home, and while she was looking forward to getting to know Alex’s relatives better, she’d had a niggling fear that she might feel like the odd one out. But she needn’t have worried: they had all gone out of their way to put her at ease, especially Mrs Jackson, who had even filled a small stocking with fruit and chocolate coins, just like Lizzie had told Alex her own mum used to do.
She