“I’m very careful, Becky,” says Janice, looking a tad sheepish. “I wear cotton gloves, and I always check them for wear and tear. No one receives a substandard gift.”
The ramifications of this discovery are gradually dawning on me. I knew Janice liked to “get ahead on her Christmas cards”—i.e., buy them half price on Christmas Eve, write them out on January 1, and keep them in a drawer for the rest of the year—but this is worse.
“So, you mean all those presents I’ve given you over the years went straight in the cupboard for regifting?” I can’t help sounding hurt.
“Oh, love.” Janice pats my hand. “I do appreciate them. Every present I receive is one less to buy next year, you see?”
“But that’s not the point of presents! What about the Bobbi Brown Makeup Manual I got you?”
“It went to my sister Anne,” admits Janice.
“And what about the cocktail shaker?” I stare at her, crestfallen. “Didn’t you make a single cocktail?”
“Ah,” says Janice, lifting a finger triumphantly. “Now, that did work out well. We gave that to Martin’s niece Judy. She uses it all the time!”
Maybe she does, I think, a bit resentfully. But I didn’t want Martin’s niece Judy to use it; I wanted Janice and Martin to use it. (And, by the way, no wonder her makeup technique hasn’t improved.)
“Janice, people give you presents because they want to,” I say earnestly. “Because they love you. They want you to enjoy their gifts. Presents are enjoyment and love, not just something to fill a cupboard.”
“I know, Becky.” She gives me a rueful smile. “I know I should enjoy my presents, but I just can’t help being practical.”
I’m not going to give her a lecture, because people can’t help being regiftaholics, can they? It’s probably a genetic thing, which they’ll do scientific research about one day. But this year, I vow, I’m giving Janice something she can’t regift. Some kind of luxury perishable food, perhaps. Ooh, maybe a lobster. I can’t help grinning at the idea of presenting Janice with a live lobster, and at once she says, “What is it, love?”
“Nothing.” I put down my cup. “Come on. Let’s shop!”
We head into the food section, which has the massive advantage that they give away stuff. Every single stall has something to taste, from cinder toffee to Christmas cake to festive vodka.
“Is festive vodka a thing?” I say uncertainly to Janice, but she’s already got us two little sample glasses.
“Of course it is, love!” she says, swigging hers in one go. “Look, there’s tinsel on the bottle. Shall we try all the flavored ones? There’s lemon. And cinnamon!”
Vodka does feel fairly festive, if it’s spiked with cinnamon and you drink it singing along to Mariah Carey. We move on to festive gin and then festive traditional “mead,” and then Janice starts going back and asking for seconds. If I don’t say something, she’ll stay in the booze section all day.
“Janice,” I say at last. “We have to move on! We’ll try the mulled wine another time, OK?”
As I’m tugging at her arm, I spot a nearby stall selling smoked salmon, which is actually on my list. There’s a massive queue, which is a good sign, so I quickly join it. And I’m craning my neck to read the sign about applewood smoking, when another glint of silver catches my eye and I swivel round in hope—
It is! It’s the silver llama must-have ornament! It’s hanging from the handle of a toddler’s buggy, and I bet you anything his mum bought it here.
I’m not missing it this time.
“Janice,” I say hurriedly. “Could you possibly buy my smoked salmon for me? Here’s my credit card.” I hand her my Visa card and add in a whisper, “The PIN’s four-one-six-five. Pay whatever it costs. I just need to make a quick purchase.”
“Of course, love!” says Janice brightly. “How much? I don’t know what the prices are like….”
“Don’t worry about the price, just get lots. Or, at least, why not see if there’s a special offer?” I can see Janice drawing breath to ask something else, but I hastily add, “Thanks!” and dash into the crowd. I’ve got to track down that llama.
I jog along, fighting my way past groups of people, until I see the mother with the buggy. And there it is! The silver llama, hanging on a velvet ribbon loop. It has long glittery hair, and world peace is beautifully