I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day - Milly Johnson Page 0,59
to preen. ‘I think I’ve discovered another new hot-shot business venture.’
‘Cracker Boy?’ queried Bridge, wrinkling up her nose. ‘Doesn’t really have the same ring.’
‘You should throw one at me tomorrow and see what name comes out,’ returned Luke, soft full mouth curved in a puckish smile. For a moment, they were the only two people in the room.
‘So, the plan tomorrow is…?’ asked Robin, to the group in general.
‘I think we should all get up at the same time to open our presents,’ said Bridge, clicking back to them.
‘We should divvy up the jobs tonight,’ suggested Luke. ‘We can’t all fit in the kitchen together so we’ll need to be as organised as the SAS.’ He popped another marshmallow into his mouth and chewed. ‘These are so good, Robin. Do you want a job working for Plant Boy as head chef?’
Bridge yawned. ‘I’m tired,’ she said. ‘It’s exhausting doing nothing except eating and listening to Christmas music.’
Mary fetched her pad from the bar and drew a grid on a fresh page.
‘Are we bothering with starters?’ she asked.
‘I’m more than happy to go straight to the main,’ said Charlie and everyone nodded in agreement.
‘I would like to volunteer to prepare the vegetables,’ said Luke, raising his hand as if he was a small boy in class who wanted to go to the toilet. ‘I can do amazing things with a parsnip.’
‘I’ll help. I can be your sous chef,’ offered Jack. ‘Or fag,’ which made him chuckle to himself.
‘I’m happy with that,’ said Robin. ‘I’ll prepare the turkey and… oh, what will you two have instead?’ He waggled his finger between Mary and Luke.
‘Leave that with me. I can sort our turkey alternative out when I’m doing the veg, no problem,’ said Luke.
‘I’ll do the washing up,’ said Bridge.
‘I’ll help with that,’ said Mary. ‘And the clearing up.’
‘Perfect.’
‘What about me?’ asked Charlie.
‘You can do the toast, Charlie. The raising a glass sort of toast, not poking bread onto Robin’s big fork and waving it at the fire toast,’ said Bridge.
‘And say grace,’ said Robin. ‘That can be your contribution.’
‘It’s not enough,’ said Charlie. ‘I’ll dress the table as well. I have unsurpassable flair for these things so I will employ all my best skills.’
‘You do indeed,’ affirmed Robin. ‘I’ll also help anyone who needs it. Preparing the turkey won’t be that big a job.’
‘Now that was easy,’ said Luke. ‘What a diplomatic lot we are.’
Brian’s voice came on the radio.
‘And that’s it from Radio Brian for tonight, folks. Sleep well and remember to leave out your stockings for Father Christmas. I’ll be back with you all in the morning. I’ll play you out with Nat King Cole roasting his chestnuts on an open fire. Goodnight.’
‘That sounds as painful as being gripped by the madrigals,’ said Robin, and got up to look out of the window.
‘How is it out there?’ asked Bridge.
‘I’m seeing it’s a “White Christmas”,’ he trilled by way of response.
‘You really do have a lovely voice,’ said Mary. ‘Very Bing Crosby.’
‘Oh get away with you, lady. It’s probably the whitest Christmas we’ve ever seen in this country. The snow is deep and crisp and even.’
‘Like Good King Wenceslas’s pizza,’ said Luke, laughing. ‘Deep pan, crisp and even.’
‘I hope that isn’t one of the jokes in the crackers,’ said Bridge, ‘because it’s at least one hundred and fifty years old.’
‘Nope, they’re all originals from the brain of Luke Palfreyman.’
Luke had made crackers that last Christmas before it started to go wrong, before the sea change, Bridge remembered then. The jokes were terrible. They had laughed until turkey and cheap plonk came down their noses and had a Christmas bonk before they dished up a Black Forest gateau bought from the cheap frozen food stall in the market. They were always so very good at sex; both loved the urgency of it, both came together like express trains. God, I’d kill for a shag, she exclaimed inwardly, then felt herself freeze and blush at the same time as there was a noticeable hush in the room that suggested she’d said that thought aloud. Luckily, she hadn’t.
Jack collected the mugs and took them into the kitchen to wash up. Bridge turned off the radio and the Christmas tree lights.
‘Well, I’m going upstairs to Bedfordshire,’ said Robin, glancing over at Charlie and taking in how tired he looked. These days he could be the life and soul of the party one minute and the next, a punctured lilo.