Page 18 of It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas
?Sentimental item from childhood
Frannie was an early riser, and I was a light sleeper, so a lie-in atElle’s was never an option. But, hey, that’s what Saturday afternoonnaps were for.
I lay in bed for a while, checking my work emails to see if there’d been any developments on ‘all-staff-email-gate’ since yesterday (there hadn’t), before pulling my clothes on, having a major falling-out with the ridiculously unfoldable futon in their home office box room and making my way down to the kitchen. As expected, Elle was nowhere to be seen – Saturdays were her lie-in days and Rory got Sundays. Though looking at Rory’s hungover pallor as he attempted to coax Frannie to eat her gluey Ready Brek, I was surprised he hadn’t managed to negotiate a swap this weekend.
‘Morning, little one. Oh, and Frannie,’ I said, with perfect comedic timing. Dad humour is the best humour.
Rory groaned at the classic gag. ‘Very funny, Auntie Mally. Say good morning, Fran.’
‘Nor-nin, Nally!’
‘Big night, then?’ I asked.
‘Ha. You could say that.’
‘What time did you get in?’
‘Only a few hours ago. We haven’t woken you, have we?’
‘Nah, you’re good. So where did you go?’
‘Oh God, it was this awful bar near the hospital. The food was dire. Honestly, come and look at this.’ Rory unlocked his phone and opened up his photo gallery, swiping to the relevant image.
‘What am I looking at here? The only thing that’s even vaguely recognisable is a plate.’
‘Believe it or not, Mally, residing upon said plate is – allegedly – Christmas pudding.’ Rory’s face had turned worryingly green.
‘I’m sorry – what?!’
I looked at the image again – the pudding resembled an ungenerous slice of malt loaf that had been drizzled with watered-down salad cream, and then punched by a very large fist.
‘Did youeat it?’
‘Course not.Look at it!Honestly, though, the whole night was a total shambles. We had no choice but to drink our way through it.’
‘Sometimes it’s the only way. I’ll get some coffee on.’
‘Mally, you fucking—’ Rory glanced down at Frannie and exaggeratedly clapped his hand to his mouth. She giggled. ‘I meanflippinglegend. Yes, please. I swear you know your way around this kitchen better than I do. You’ll stay for breakfast?’
‘Ah, thanks, but once this caffeine’s coursing through my veins I’m going to head off and grab something en route.’ A perfect 3D image of a Greggs Steak Bake popped into my head, spinning seductively to show me every greasy, oozing angle of deliciousness. I reluctantly dismissed the meaty mirage: there was an unacceptable absence of a conveniently located Greggs branch between here and my flat.
‘Hey, Mally.’ Rory glanced at the kitchen door behind me and lowered his tone before continuing. ‘I wondered if Elle’s said anything to you about this stuff going on at work?’
‘Well, just a little. But I probably know as much as you do, to be honest.’
‘Which is…?’
‘Oh, just that – like the whole online media industry, really – we need more clicks and more revenue. Same old story.’
‘Cool. And, er, she hasn’t mentioned anything else to you that’s on her mind?’
I knew better than to mention the pending office closure. Rory had always been a natural worrier and I knew Elle would tell him what he needed to know and when.
‘Like what?’
‘Oh, nothing in particular. She just seems extra-stressed at the moment and I know she sometimes confides in you.’
‘Nope, all good.’
