Minnie looks at me uncertainly. “I have Gucci,” she repeats more firmly, brandishing the Gucci box. “Mummy has a Gucci bag,” she continues, and there are more snorts of laughter. “Mummy bought the scarf,” she adds conversationally to the audience. “Daddy had the money. In his pocket.”
Oh God, she’s remembering all the stuff I told her about that first Denny and George scarf. What else is she going to say?
I can see shoulders heaving everywhere and hear the odd splutter of mirth. Onstage, George looks a bit put out that Minnie’s hogging the show.
“I have myrrh,” he repeats loudly.
“I have Gucci,” Minnie cuts across him defiantly.
“The vicar’s sitting over there,” says Luke to me, nodding to the left. “Just in case you were wondering.”
“Stop it.” I bite my lip. “Concentrate on the play.”
By now Minnie has run out of steam. Silence falls on the stage, and Mary rouses herself.
“We have nowhere else to stay,” she repeats in doleful tones. “There are no hotels.”
I can see something waking up in Minnie’s mind at the word “hotels.”
“No minibar,” she says sternly. She turns to Joseph and jabs a finger at him. “No minibar. No sweeties. It is too ’spensive.”
At once the entire place erupts in laughter.
“Quite right!” calls out one dad.
“Don’t eat the Toblerone!” joins in another.
“Stick to the all-inclusive buffet!” shouts a third, and there’s another huge gale of laughter.
Everyone’s turning to grin at Luke and me, and I smile back, even though my head is boiling. Our daughter just stood in Mary and Joseph’s lowly stable and told them not to use the minibar. I want to die.
* * *
—
After the play has finished, there’s mulled wine and mince pies for parents in the dining room. Luke and I sip our steaming drinks while the word “minibar” floats on every conversation, amid gusts of laughter. I can hear people exclaiming about Harvey’s “wonderful costume,” too, and every time they do, Luke squeezes my hand. I haven’t spotted Steph anywhere, but I’m guessing she’s here; everyone comes to the Nativity play.
“Oh my God, Bex.” Suze arrives at my side, her face flushed from laughing. “ ‘No minibar.’ That is classic! And Minnie had an amazing costume,” she adds carefully. “Well done, Bex! How did you make it, with a scarf? Is it Denny and George?”
I know Suze. She is being as sweet as she possibly can about a costume which was obviously thrown together in five minutes with safety pins. And I appreciate her tactfulness. But part of me is burning inside with frustration. I want to retort, “Do you really think I worked for weeks on that? I made the good costume! The one everyone’s talking about!” But I can’t risk it here, with the other parents all milling around.
“Thanks,” I say tightly, and swig my drink, as Luke answers a call on his phone. He talks for half a minute, then turns to me, looking puzzled.
“Becky, that was the council. They say there have been some calls about a homeless person in our front garden. Apparently, they’ve made a camp with a duvet. D’you know what they’re on about?”
Oh for God’s sake.
“It’s not a homeless person!” I erupt. “It’s fish!”
“Fish?” Luke seems staggered.
“I bought some fish and I put it under a Paddington Bear duvet,” I explain, a little impatiently. “That’s all I did. And everyone jumps to the wrong conclusion.”
“You put fish…under a duvet?” echoes Luke.
“I had to!” I say defensively. “What else was I supposed to do with it?”
There’s silence, and I see Luke exchanging perplexed glances with Suze.
“Bex, don’t take this the wrong way,” says Suze carefully. “But you seem a bit…tense.”
“I’m not tense,” I counter at once. “That’s ridiculous. I’m fine. I’m totally chilled. Aren’t I, Luke?”
“You’re a bit tense,” he says, and I glare at him. Traitor.
“You are, Bex.” Suze puts a hand on my arm. “In fact, you’ve seemed tense ever since you agreed to host Christmas. Let me help. Please. I’m longing to help. Or…let me host! Change of plan!”
What?
I stare at Suze in disbelief as she turns eagerly to Luke. “Maybe that’s the answer. I could easily do it; everyone could come to Letherby Hall—”
“What, so you think I can’t host Christmas?” My distressed voice cuts across hers. I shake her hand off my arm, and she flinches. “You think I can’t do it, Suze?”
“No!” Suze backtracks hastily. “God! Of course you can! I’m just saying…you seem a bit hassled. I only want to