She cannot start, or I’ll collapse in a soggy mess.
“It’s no big deal,” I say in a rush. “Forget it.”
“It is a big deal. It’s one of the most generous things anyone’s ever done for me.”
“Well,” I say, staring intently out the window. “I mean, anyone would have done it. So.”
“You don’t deserve this.” Steph sounds impassioned. “You so don’t deserve this, Becky.” Her phone bleeps with a text and she looks at it with an impatient sound—then winces. “Oh God. My family are here. Early. They’re outside my house. But I don’t want to leave you.”
“You must go!” I say at once. “Go! Have a wonderful Christmas.”
“Is there anyone you could call? Like…” She trails away awkwardly, and I know what she’s thinking. Who can I call? My closest friends and family? I feel a fresh spasm of pain but force myself to smile.
“It’s fine. Luke’s on his way back. He’ll be here soon. Steph, you need to go and see your family. Enjoy them.”
Steph gives me a last, agonized look but then gets to her feet and scoops up Harvey. I can hear the excitement in her voice as she says, “Gran’s here, darling! At our house!”
After a tight hug, she’s gone, and it’s just Minnie and me, waiting for Luke. I put on The Snowman and snuggle down beside Minnie on the sofa, trying to feel cozy. But my head feels all hot and heavy.
I suddenly see Minnie’s Grinch book lying on the floor and pick it up, hearing Luke’s voice in my head. “Whatever the Grinch can steal…that’s not Christmas.” I flip through the copy until I reach the page with all the Whos holding hands and singing. The page that represents happiness. Togetherness. Christmas spirit. I stare at it until the illustration blurs and the words swim and my head feels heavier than ever.
I’ve got the presents and the decorations and even the vegan turkey. But I haven’t got the friends and family. I haven’t got the one thing that Christmas is all about.
And now I can’t keep up the pretense anymore. My head sinks down, and I sob silently into my knees so Minnie won’t see that anything’s wrong.
How can my first ever Christmas at home be like this? Where did I go wrong?
My shoulders are heaving and my nose is running and my eyes are squeezed shut…and when I hear Luke’s voice, it’s as though in a dream.
“Becky?” I feel his arms come around me. “Becky! Oh my God! What’s happened?”
“Oh. Hi.” I hastily lift my head, rubbing my face. “It’s all fine. You know. It’s just…um…everyone’s pulled out of Christmas, so I was a bit disappointed. But it’ll be fine.”
“Pulled out?” Luke stares at me blankly.
“Canceled.”
“Who’s canceled?”
“Everyone. Mum and Dad, Janice, Suze…Jess…”
For a moment, Luke seems incapable of speech. Then he says, in the polite parental voice we use in front of Minnie, “Becky, could you come into the kitchen for a moment?”
I follow him in and we close the door. Then Luke wheels round.
“What the fuck? What the fuck? Start from the beginning. What happened?”
“Well,” I falter, “first Jess sent a text saying she didn’t want to come to ours for personal reasons. And then Mum said she and Dad were ill. And Janice said she wanted to spend a quiet day with Martin, and Suze said she’s going to Tarkie’s Uncle Rufus.”
“This is beyond belief,” says Luke in quiet, ominous tones. “This is beyond belief.” His face has actually gone white. I don’t often see Luke this livid. “You don’t pull out of Christmas on Christmas Eve. You don’t treat people like that.”
“If they don’t want to come, it’s their choice,” I say miserably.
“Fuck that!” explodes Luke. “They need to explain themselves. I’m not having this, Becky. I’m not having it. You have worked bloody hard at this Christmas, and they are not treating you like this.”
“You helped too,” I say, to be fair, but Luke shakes his head.
“I haven’t taken it on like you’ve taken it on. It’s your shout. It’s your creation. It’s your dedication. You don’t deserve this.”
Already he’s taking out his phone and dialing. After a moment he frowns and says, “Voicemail…Hi, Jane,” he says shortly. “Luke here. I’d be grateful if you’d call me.”
He leaves the same message for Suze, Janice, and Jess, then puts his phone away, taut-faced. The kitchen seems very flat suddenly. Not Christmassy at all.
“D’you want a coffee?” says Luke at last. “Or a drink?”