even wilder than usual, and there’s a streaked and crumpled tea towel slung over her shoulder. She looks frankly knackered. ‘Lunch is served, Madam,’ she says in a superior voice.
I get up, rubbing my hands together with glee.
She frowns. ‘I wouldn’t get too excited. But you’d better hurry up before it gets cold.’
I glance at her, realising with surprise that she’s actually quite nervous about this. I was thinking it was all just a bit of fun. But I can see that she wants to impress me, and my heart expands with love.
Who needs Noah, anyway, when my gorgeous Tavie is serving me Christmas lunch!
I walk into the kitchen, surprised to see that it’s actually quite tidy. But there’s no sign of fish fingers or chips. Or baked beans, for that matter. But the table is set for two. There’s even a couple of wine glasses. Very hopeful, Tavie!
She hurries over to the oven and picks up the oven gloves.
‘Sit down,’ she orders, and intrigued, I do as I’m told.
‘Flo said to keep it warming in the oven until I was ready to serve.’
‘Flo? When did you talk to her?’
She grins, nodding at her mobile on the bench. ‘I’ve got a hot line to Flo. She’s been talking me through it. She phoned the house when you were on your way to see her yesterday and I told her about my plans for today. She said she’d help.’
Bending to the oven, she brings out a large, decorative plate that I’m certain won’t be oven-proof.
‘I didn’t know what to put the vegetables on, but I thought this plate looked pretty enough for Christmas Day,’ she says, laying it down on the table.
Picturing it burning a hole in my lovely birchwood table, I quickly grab a large tablemat to push under the plate. ‘There. Perfect. Gosh, these look gorgeous.’
They really do. She’s roasted potatoes and carrots in the oven, and she’s even added sprigs of rosemary. The sprouts look lovely, too, garnished with bits of bacon.
My stomach rumbles loudly.
‘And now for the star of the show,’ announces Tavie, returning to the oven. And I watch in amazement as she brings out a beautiful roast turkey, all crisp and golden brown and smelling divine.
I spring out of my seat. ‘Oh, wow, Tavie, that looks amazing!’
She’s prodding it anxiously with a fork. ‘Do you think it’s cooked properly?’
‘Well, we’ll just have to find out. Do you want to carve this magnificent bird, or shall I?’
She produces the electric carving knife that’s been in its box at the back of the cupboard for years. ‘You can.’
So I do. And it’s perfectly cooked.
We sit down to a Christmas lunch that I totally wasn’t expecting, and I manage to reassure a worried Tavie that forgetting to make gravy is definitely not the end of the world.
‘This is amazing,’ I tell her, smiling from ear to ear.
‘Good.’ She blushes slightly. ‘I wanted it to be nice, to make up for…well, everything.’
I raise my glass. Well, you’ve done that and more. Happy Christmas, my love.’
She smiles and raises her own glass of spritzer.
‘Happy Christmas, Jenny!’
*****
A condition of Tavie making our Christmas feast was that I should drive her over to see Amy later. So, after a lazy few hours watching festive TV together, Tavie goes off to her room to get ready.
I haul myself off the sofa to go and brush my teeth. And as I pass Tavie’s door, I hear her on the phone, giggling excitedly. ‘It’s going to be so brilliant…yeah, I’ve managed to keep it a secret from Jenny. I can’t wait.’
I pause outside her door, my heart beating faster.
What are they planning?
It can’t be something I’d approve of, if Tavie doesn’t want me to know about it.
In the car, I ask her casually, ‘So what are you going to be doing, you and Amy?’
‘Oh, nothing much. Just chatting and listening to music.’ She looks over at me, a hint of a smile breaking through, and my heart sinks.
Please don’t let anything happen to spoil this lovely day!
‘No, don’t turn into the farm,’ she says suddenly. ‘Keep going along this road.’
‘What?’ I swing around and the car skids a little.
‘Keep your eyes on the road!’ yelps Tavie, grabbing the wheel.
‘But where are we going?’ I demand, concentrating firmly on the road.
‘You’ll find out. In fact, turn in here!’
‘Brambleberry Manor? But…’
‘Just do it, Jenny! Please?’
‘Okay, okay. But…are we expected?’
She smiles. ‘Oh, yes. Fen will be waiting for us.’
‘Fen? What’s she got to do with this?’
‘For heaven’s sake,