12 Days 'til Christmas ✓

chapter twenty-seven

t w e n t y - s e v e n

*

My oldest sister arrives in a fluster five minutes before we serve lunch, five minutes before the celebrations switch over from birthday to Christmas. Her husband, Ben, skids into the house behind her when he almost loses his balance on a patch of ice.

"Happy birthday, Bee!" she cries out, enveloping me in an incense-scented hug, her woolly poncho cape engulfing me in its swathes of fabric. "I'm so sorry we're so late; I wanted to get here early to celebrate with you but"—she pulls away and rolls her eyes, subtly nodding at her husband—"we got a bit caught up with the in-laws."

Ben presses his lips together and nods. "My parents can be a bit intense. It was hard to peel ourselves away from them."

"It doesn't matter; you're here now," I say when my sister lets go of me. "We've got the whole family all together!"

"Not often that happens, eh?" India grins, then her expression morphs into one of sudden shock when she says, "Oh! What's this I hear about you and a boyfriend? Paisley sent me some garbled message that I think she must've written with her toes, but I'm pretty sure the gist of it was ... you have a boyfriend."

"I do," I say. Simple is best. India's eyes widen.

"Is he here?"

"He is."

"Oh my god!" Her hand flies to her mouth. "Why haven't we been introduced already? Why haven't you already told me? Why's he here?"

I'm starting to think I should have just hidden Casper away and waited for my whole family to be in one place before I announced my new relationship status. The whole shebang of explaining to everyone is tiresome, and I've only had to do it a few times.

But I don't have to say anything, because Casper appears behind me, his hand up to wave at my sister. He's still wearing his Santa hat, the pompom on the end bobbing against his cheek, and I want to wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck but I just step back and let him take over.

*

Lunch is chaos, but we're only ten minutes late in getting everything ready at the same time, eight of us squashing round the conservatory table with a heater on full blast and festive jumpers to keep us warm. The only time Paisley shuts up is when she has a mouthful of food, and there's plenty to go around – bowls of vegetables, from honey roasted carrots and parsnips to boiled peas and sprouts, and a veritable mountain of pigs in blankets amidst meat and potatoes.

"I think we did all right," Casper whispers, leaning across so his lips almost meet my ear as I reach forward to take a couple of roast potatoes.

"Hashtag smashed it," Paisley says with a wink, piling her plate high and slathering it all in a river of gravy. Casper made that himself, a concoction of instant granules and vegetable water, and a whole host of other flavours I can't pin down. I'm sure I spied a slug of red wine and a dollop of peanut butter at some point.

Whatever it is, it works. Everything works – the meat is almost perfect, only the slightest bit dry, and the broccoli has a bit of crunch. The mash, another Casper job, is thick and creamy, and Mum's nut roast is delicious. It's the kind of meal I don't want to end, even though I know that at some point in the next twenty minutes, I'm going to groan and wish I hadn't eaten so much, and all I'll want to do is sprawl out across a sofa in a semi-comatose state.

There always seem to be at least two or three different conversations going on around the table and I drift between them, dipping into Mum and India catching up before I slip back to my dad and Casper and Ben. The men seem to have congregated around one end of the table, the three who know each other least – Ben's been in the family for years but hasn't spent much time around my dad, and my boyfriend is a totally new, and unexpected, addition.