“Sweetheart, we just need to pop home quickly,” I say. “We’re going to get your other costume. Your even better costume,” I add as convincingly as I can.
I hurry her out of the school gate and into the car, racking my brains for something that will make a king costume in five minutes. As soon as we arrive home, I dash upstairs and start rooting through all my drawers for anything glittery or sequined. Scarf? Shawl? Could I repurpose some costume jewelry?
Minnie watches me silently for a minute, then starts grabbing for things too.
“Kings wear neckwisses,” she tells me, taking a diamante necklace from my drawer. “Kings wear two neckwisses.”
As the doorbell rings, I curse and dash downstairs again. I open the door to see the postman peering over a pile of brown boxes.
“You’re here!” he exclaims. “Only I was going to pile them up where I normally do…”
“Thanks!” I say breathlessly as I take them and close the front door with my hip. I’ll open them later. They’re hardly the priority right now.
Or, actually, maybe I’ll open them now. Just to check what they are.
I rip open the first box to find vests for Minnie. The next box has got A4 printing paper in it. Booooring. But the last package is a large padded envelope, containing something soft and tissue-wrapped—
Oh my God. It’s my Denny and George scarves! At last!
I tear them eagerly out of their tissue paper. One’s turquoise printed silk, one’s pink and sheer, and one’s deep burgundy silk velvet. The velvet one is massive—almost a shawl—and I suddenly realize that it’s perfect.
I hurry up the stairs, clutching the scarves, calling out, “Minnie! Sweetheart! You’re going to have the most stylish costume in the whole play!”
I find a dark red cotton dress that Minnie wore last summer—it will be the base layer. Then I drape the velvet scarf around her, fixing it with brooches and safety pins, feeling sentimental whenever I catch sight of the iconic Denny and George label.
“You know, you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for a Denny and George scarf,” I tell Minnie. “It was Denny and George that brought Mummy and Daddy together.”
As I tweak and pin her costume into shape, I somehow find myself relating the whole story of Luke lending me the money to buy a Denny and George scarf. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t follow a word—but it’s soothing to me, anyway.
“OK,” I say at last, sinking back on my heels and assessing the finished look. “Amazing. We can use a crown from the dressing-up box—and now you just need a casket of gold.”
Briefly, my mind flashes to the cardboard casket I spent two evenings painting and decorating. But Harvey needs that. We can improvise.
“Here we are,” I say, delving in my bottom drawer and bringing out a golden cardboard Gucci Première perfume box. “Here’s a lovely casket. This can be your gold, sweetheart. It says Gucci, and that begins with ‘G,’ like gold.” I point at the embossed “G.” “See? ‘Guh’ for gold…and ‘guh’ for Gucci.”
“Gucci,” repeats Minnie, looking a bit confused.
“Gucci.” I enunciate it clearly. “Gu-cci. Gucci is very special and expensive, just like gold. They do amazing shoes and belts, and bags, of course. Mummy has a gorgeous Gucci bag somewhere—” I stop midflow. Not the point. “Anyway, you’ll look like a brilliant king, poppet.” I kiss her on the forehead. “You’ll be the King in the Denny and George Scarf.”
* * *
—
At last I’ve named the costume, packed it in a bag, delivered Minnie to school, and arrived at work. I feel knackered, and the day has hardly begun. The trouble with Christmas is, it never seems to end. I still need to find Luke a present and organize this gingerbread-house-making party and reconcile my guests and fit into my Alexander McQueen dress and do a thousand other things. I feel like going back to bed, to be honest.
By contrast, Suze greets me at the door with a relaxed and radiant smile.
“Guess what?” she says.
“Dunno,” I say. “How was Norfolk?”
“Oh, fine.” She waves an airy hand. “You know. Same old family stuff. I won the backward rafting race,” she adds as an afterthought.
The backward rafting race? I’m about to ask her what that is, except I can already guess—it’s an eccentric English family all on rafts, yelling and wearing weird clothes and laughing hilariously at jokes no one understands while they all fall into freezing cold water.