Christmas for Beginners - Carole Matthews Page 0,14
session this afternoon. Card-making.’
‘Joy.’ Bev can do many things, but arts and crafts are not her idea of fun.
‘I thought the kids could make a Christmas card for someone. If they want to.’ Unfortunately, not all of our charges are in settled homes with their parents. Some are in foster care or council-run homes.
My friend nods her approval. ‘That would be a nice thing.’ Bev jots it down and then closes her notebook. ‘Better get on. Chickpea curry for lunch and I’ve got healthy shizzle to chop.’
‘Sounds great. I’ve got Jack pencilled in to help you.’
‘He’s such a darling,’ Bev says. ‘One of our success stories.’
‘Life would be a lot easier if everyone was like Jack. I’d take a dozen of him every day.’
Bev puts on her coat. ‘I still can’t get used to seeing you in such civilised surroundings.’
‘I know. I have an oven that actually works and everything. I’m very grateful to Shelby.’
‘Don’t be too grateful. He’s got pots of cash, he can afford to keep you in a modicum of luxury.’
‘I just wish he was here more often to share it with me.’
‘Talk to him,’ Bev says. When I start to protest, she holds up her hands. ‘I’m sure all is absolutely hunky-dory as you say, but he’s probably used to being top of the pile, not beneath a couple of mild-mannered donkeys, three badly behaved alpacas, half a dozen horses of assorted variety, forty-odd needy sheep and more bunnies than you can shake a stick at. Not to mention all the hens, ducks, geese and dogs we take care of. Make a fuss of him. Men like that kind of thing.’
‘I’m so useless at this romance stuff, Bev.’
‘That’s because you haven’t had enough practice.’
‘I haven’t had any practice!’ It’s true. Before I met Shelby, there was very little boyfriend action in my life. I’ve always preferred animals. Sometimes, I wish I were more sophisticated, more worldly wise, but, on a farm, no one cares about that and I’ve let my social skills slide.
‘Have a shower, do your hair, dress nicely,’ Bev advises.
‘What about the evening feed?’
‘I’ll do that before I leave,’ she says. ‘Lucas can help.’
‘But—’
Bev cuts me off. ‘What I’m saying is make a bit of effort, Mols.’ She huffs at me. ‘Look like you care.’
‘I do care.’
‘Then make sure Shelby realises that. The man’s a star. He’s used to people falling at his feet.’
‘I’ve never done that.’
‘It wouldn’t hurt every now and again, would it?’ She kisses my cheek and leaves the caravan.
And I stand there contemplating which out of my two pairs of jeans might be considered in the category of ‘dress nicely’.
Chapter Nine
When the day is done, Lucas comes back to the caravan. He’s hardly stopped working all day and as he stands in the doorway kicking off his wellies, I see that he looks tired.
‘Hey. Busy day?’
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I spent most of the afternoon repairing the fences with Alan. I’m knackered. What’s for dinner?’
‘I’m making some Mexican wraps filled with peppers and onions accompanied by an avocado salsa thing and rice. Sound OK?’
He comes to look over my shoulder at it. ‘Cool.’
Lucas has gone vegan, so I’m having to up my cooking game. I’m trying to do the same to show solidarity, but I had no idea how much I’d miss proper cheese. The vegan substitute I’ve bought tastes like a bar of soap. And, if you ask me, soya milk smells of sick. We’re currently trialling oat milk, but it makes tea taste of porridge so I’ve taken to drinking it black. I hope Shelby doesn’t mind the absence of dairy. Perhaps cutting it out might help his allergies.
‘Is Dad coming for supper?’
‘I hope so. He’s in the middle of filming the Christmas special, though, so your guess is as good as mine.’
Lucas rolls his eyes.
‘I’ve cooked plenty just in case. Why don’t you have a nice hot shower?’
He kicks his toe against the carpet in his grubby socks. They have a hole in each of the big toes and I’ve no idea how that boy ruins so many. As I still have a morbid terror of supermarkets, I get Bev to bulk-buy them for me in ASDA. I have come to realise that teenage lads get through an inordinate amount of socks, food and toilet roll.
‘Will Dad be here tomorrow?’
‘I doubt it.’ Two nights on the run is unlikely. ‘Why?’
His face is arranged to reflect studied nonchalance. ‘Just thought I might invite someone back. Maybe for tea.’