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December, 1980.
The bitter chill of a Birmingham winter greeted Valerie as she stepped out of the taxi, her breath visible in the frosty air. She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, glancing up at the modest brick house with a wreath hanging on the door. John stood beside her, carrying her suitcase in one hand and a wrapped gift in the other. They decided to spend the holidays together since The Velvet Reverie finished their first four “Reverie in Motion” and Duran Duran was almost done with the dates as the opening act for Hazel O’Connor. Both were nervous about meeting each other’s family.
“Well,” he said, his voice tinged with nervous excitement, “welcome to the Taylor household. Ready?”
She smiled and looped her arm through his. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
John pushed open the door, and the warmth inside was immediate. The smell of roasted meat and freshly baked mince pies filled the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and a crackling fireplace. His mother, Jean, appeared first, wiping her hands on an apron as her face lit up with a welcoming smile.
“John! You’re here! And this must be Valerie.”
Valerie extended her hand, but Jean pulled her into a hug instead. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you. John’s been talking about you nonstop.”
“Mum,” John groaned, his cheeks flushing red.
Valerie laughed, feeling her nerves ease. “It’s great to meet you too, Mrs. Taylor. Thank you for having me.”
“Oh, nonsense, call me Jean,” she said, ushering them into the cozy living room.
John’s father, Jack, rose from his armchair, his smile matching his wife’s. “You must be Valerie. John’s been buzzing about you for months.”
“Dad,” John muttered, shooting him a look of mock annoyance.
Valerie shook Jack’s hand, taking in the room. The Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, its branches adorned with twinkling lights and sentimental ornaments. Stockings hung on the mantle above the fireplace, and a pile of gifts sat beneath the tree.
