“I know where it is,” I say, finding my voice. “But, Mum, you can’t move to Shoreditch!”
“Why not?” Mum looks affronted.
“Because Shoreditch is for young people! It’s where hipsters come from! It’s all craft beer and sourdough bread. It’s…” I whirl my hands hopelessly. “Not you.”
“Well!” says Mum indignantly. “Who says it’s not us? I should say we’ll fit in perfectly! Your father’s very fond of beer.”
“It’s just…” I try again. “It has a vibe.”
“A ‘vibe’?” echoes Mum, rolling her eyes. “What a lot of nonsense. Oh, Carlo, I’m sorry,” she adds to a hovering waiter. “You’ll have to give us a moment. And then you must tell us how your daughter’s doing on her gap year.” She twinkles at Carlo before taking a deep gulp of her drink and glaring at me huffily across the top of it.
“Look, Mum, of course you can live anywhere you like,” I backtrack. “But don’t you feel like you belong here?” I spread my arms around the cozy restaurant. “You know all the waiters. You know their families. You know the veal marsala. Shoreditch is…Shoreditch.”
“Perhaps I don’t want veal marsala anymore,” says Dad suddenly. “Perhaps I want…” He hesitates, then says self-consciously, “Smashed avocado.”
He lifts his chin almost defiantly, and I blink back at him. Dad wants smashed avocado?
“Avocado?” says Carlo, perking up. “Avocado and prawns to start? And then the veal marsala?”
I’m aware of Luke stifling a laugh and shoot him a look, although to be truthful I feel a bit hysterical myself.
“Anyway, we’ve found an apartment,” says Mum defensively, “and it’s available immediately. It has lovely fitted blinds, Becky. All included.”
“Views over the city,” puts in Dad, with satisfaction.
“And a ‘wet room,’ ” says Mum proudly. “So practical for the older person.”
“There’s a cooperative beehive on the roof,” adds Dad happily. “And a hot tub!”
“Does it have off-street parking?” I can’t resist asking, and Mum shakes her head pityingly.
“Love, don’t be so suburban. We’ll be using Uber!”
I don’t know what to say. My parents are moving to Shoreditch. I’m actually a little envious, I realize. I wouldn’t mind an apartment with a hot tub and views over the city.
“Well, bravo!” I lift my glass. “Here’s to a whole new lifestyle!”
“I think it’s great,” says Luke warmly. “Good for you, Graham and Jane. Can we come and visit you in your flash new pad?”
“Well, of course!” says Mum, whose indignation has already died away. “We’ll have a nice housewarming party with nibbles. It’ll be super.” She beams around the table—then suddenly her gaze narrows. She peers at my chest intently for a few seconds, before looking up in astonishment.
“Becky, love! I’ve just noticed something! Your top matches the napkins!”
From: Jess Bertram
To: Becky
Subject: Christmas
Hi, Becky,
I gather you know the news of our return. We’re really looking forward to coming back to the UK and seeing family. Your parents have been very generous with the offer of their house.
Also: Thanks so much for hosting Christmas. We’re really looking forward to it. Obviously we’re hoping that it reflects our non-consumerist, sustainable values. I’m sure we’ll have a lot of fun.
Jess
From: Jess Bertram
To: Becky
Subject: Re:Re: Christmas
Hi, Becky,
Yes, I’m still vegan, and Tom is too.
Jess
From: Jess Bertram
To: Becky
Subject: Re:Re:Re:Re: Christmas
Hi, Becky,
No, we don’t have a “day off from being vegan” on Christmas Day as a “little reward.”
As for presents, no, there is nothing I’m “hankering after.” Tom and I will be exchanging non-tangible gifts, in the spirit of creating a minimal footprint on our ravaged earth.
If you can’t shake off the pressure to buy pointless items simply to follow “tradition,” could I suggest that they are sustainable, non-consumerist, locally sourced presents that reflect the true principles of fellowship rather than the hollow pleasures of shopping?
Looking forward to a festive day.
Jess
As I arrive at school the next morning with Minnie, my head is in a whirl. Though I’m not sure whether my biggest preoccupation is that 1. Mum and Dad are moving to Shoreditch, or 2. I’ve got to host Christmas for the first time ever.
It’s just one day of the year, I keep telling myself. It’s no big deal. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? (Actually, no. Let’s not start that thought process.)
Anyway, it’s fine, because I’ve already begun. I’ve looked on Pinterest and found a million lists on How to Host Christmas. I’ve ordered two tickets for the Christmas Style Fair in Olympia. I’ll go with Mum and get some inspiration. Plus, I’m going to