envelope, a note, something—and suddenly I see it. I rip open the expensive lined envelope and find myself looking at a correspondence card with a handwritten note:
Dear Mrs. Brandon (née Bloomwood),
I gather that you have pioneered women’s membership at the London Billiards Club. My husband, Sir Peter Leggett-Davey, is most put out.
As a result of his rage, I have been wishing heartily that I had done the same thing many years ago, and I admire your courage and determination.
Simon Millett told me that you had set your heart on winning this item in the raffle. I am delighted to send it to you with my very best wishes and congratulations.
Lady Rosamund Leggett-Davey
(née Wilson)
“Who’s it from?” says Suze, and I lift my head, feeling almost giddy.
“Just…someone,” I say at last. Then, as I hear the sound of Luke laughing, I snap into action. “Quick. Suze. Help me wrap this up.”
Within five minutes we’ve got it wrapped and manhandled under the tree, and I’m tinkling my fork in my glass.
“Let’s do some presents before lunch!” I say, as everyone gathers around the tree. “And, Luke, I want to start with this one. Happy Christmas.”
“But I’ve seen my present,” says Luke, looking confused. “The box is a lot smaller.”
“That was…a decoy,” I quickly improvise. “Ha! Fooled you!”
It’s fine. I’ll give him the sweater for his birthday.
Luke tears off the paper and I watch, biting my lip, as he stares, blinks, then looks more closely, rubs his hand over the leather, opens and shuts it, takes in the lining, the “LB” charm, the sheer amazingness of it…then finally lifts his eyes to mine. He looks quite overcome.
“Becky,” he says at last, and comes over to kiss me. “This is incredible. Where on earth did you get it from?”
“Er…” I hesitate. Maybe I’ll tell Luke the whole story one day—but not right now. “I just saw it in a window,” I say, which is true. “And it was so perfect, I had to get it. So!” I hastily move the conversation on. “Let’s all give Janice her presents, to say thank you for the lovely makeovers she’s given us.”
I can’t help glancing around at the others with a grin, because the truth is, we’ve coordinated on this. In fact, we’ve had our own secret WhatsApp group called Janice’s presents—and I can’t wait to see her face.
Suze’s present is an insulated carton of fresh crabmeat. “I know you love crab, Janice,” she says earnestly. “But it’s very perishable, so you must eat it very soon.”
Mum’s present is a flat parcel, and Janice opens it to find a drawing of her house in Oxshott. “Look, love!” says Mum cheerfully. “It’s got every detail. I do hope you and Martin enjoy it!”
My present is a hairbrush with Janice engraved on the back. Tom gives her a personalized Janice teapot, while Jess gives her a box of chocolates printed with To my mother-in-law, Janice.
“But, Janice,” says Martin, the penny clearly dropping, “what about your cupboard? You can’t regift any of these.”
“Martin!” snaps Janice, her cheeks coloring.
“Oh, Janice!” I say, clapping my hand to my mouth. “I guess you’ll have to enjoy your presents instead.” I grin at her to show I’m teasing, and Janice’s color deepens.
“Yes!” she says, fluffing out her hair, looking embarrassed. “Well. Thank you. Thank you all.” She picks up the teapot and suddenly looks delighted. “I will enjoy using this,” she says. “I really will.”
“So, next up, my present for Suze,” I announce. “Jess told us how she was giving everyone a zero-waste present, and we were inspired. So we’re giving each other things from our own possessions. Only I just couldn’t decide, so…wait a sec…”
I head out of the room, grab the sack I’ve tied with a big red bow and hidden in the coat cupboard, and drag it back into the room.
“Suze, here’s a load of my stuff. Just have what you want. Honestly. I think it would all suit you.”
“Bex!” gasps Suze. “I did the same!” She reaches behind the sofa and hauls out three bin bags, and I stare at them in excitement. Three bin bags full of Suze’s stuff? This is the most perfect Christmas present ever! I can’t resist reaching into one of them, and I pull out her pale pink slouchy cashmere sweater.
“I’ve always loved this,” I say in elation.
“I’ve always loved this!” rejoins Suze, pulling out my Ally Smith cardigan with the signature button.