Page 13 of Sisters Making Mischief
‘A bit,’ she said, sitting down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs. ‘Not much, it’s just the shock.’
She knocked back the rest of her sherry and refilled her glass.
I took the turkey out of the oven and heaved it onto the worktop to baste it while Sara watched me.
‘That’s a big turkey,’ she said.
‘The biggest I could get.’
‘Marty loves turkey,’ she said, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘He always said Christmas dinner was his favourite meal. Even though it’s nothing special. Just a Sunday roast really, isn’t it?’
Well, it’s a bit more than that actually,I thought, looking at all the pans and trays of six different vegetables, two stuffings – one vegetarian, one not – pigs in blankets and the big jug of batter for the Yorkshire puddings everyone expected. And then there was the home-made pudding, steaming away in my biggest saucepan, the dishes of double cream, brandy butter, the jug waiting for the custard. Then the platter of seven differentcheeses and assorted biscuits, the bowls of tangerines mixed in with gold-wrapped chocolate coins, the cafetière of coffee and my favourite coffee cups ready on a tray.
‘I suppose so,’ I said, basting the bird with a splattering of hot fat. ‘Now take the sherry into the other two and I’ll be just a few minutes. There are some home-made cheese straws in that box, take those too.’
Sara sighed and did as she was told, the glasses rattling together on the tray as she went.
I returned to my task and gave the turkey a huge, teeth-flashing grin that was more of a grimace.
I conjured up the idyllic scene I had imagined, of all of us gathered round the dining table, like some Norman Rockwell painting. Smiling faces, everyone pulling the expensive dinner crackers I had found, the food appetising and steaming hot as though the food stylists from theGood Foodmagazine had got hold of it. Although I’d recently read an article about that sort of thing and as is often the case, not everything was what it seemed. Mashed potato used to make milkshakes, strawberries painted with lipstick, shaving foam used instead of cream cheese frosting, brown fence paint over a roasted chicken.
I looked at my turkey more critically, wondering if it might benefit from the same treatment. No, perhaps a layer of creosote was a step too far in my quest for Christmas perfection.
5
At half past two, I started encouraging Sara to go upstairs and get dressed. Still in her dressing gown, she had been intermittently dozing in an armchair by the fire, while around her the chaos continued.
The twins were plastering each other with eyeshadow, Jasmine and Bunny were quarrelling over their new iPads because one was silver, and one was pink and each preferred the other one. When I suggested they could just swap, I was looked at with incredulity, so I backed off. It seemed they were enjoying the excuse to argue rather than reach a solution. And of course, it kept their ownership of such trophies to the forefront of Mia and Poppy’s minds.
Every time Vanessa opened a present from John and told him how marvellous he was, often bestowing a loving kiss on his cheek, Sara looked over with some resentment. After Sara’s third sherry and the unwrapping of a Tiffany charm to add to Vanessa’s bracelet, her comments became even more acerbic.
‘Aren’t you the lucky one? Marty bought me a new wheelbarrow for my birthday, and apparently nothing for Christmas, and they say romance isn’t dead.’
‘I’ve been collecting these for years,’ Vanessa said with a fond smile at John. ‘It’s a bit of a cheat really, it means he doesn’t have to think about it.’
‘And of course it’s vegetarian. He thought about the pink, soya bean cashmere cardigan though I expect. Which bit of the bean is used exactly?’
‘I don’t really know,’ Vanessa said.
‘Let’s hope no abused donkeys were used to haul the sacks of soya beans into the factory,’ Sara muttered.
‘Let’s leave it, Sara,’ John said.
‘It will be time for the King’s speech soon. Lunch will be on the table in forty minutes,’ I said brightly.
‘I’m not very hungry,’ Bunny said, ‘I’ve eaten most of my selection box. Can we have it later?’
‘I haven’t even opened mine. No wonder you’re getting podgy,’ Poppy said.
‘I’mnot! Mum what does podgy mean?’ Bunny wailed.
‘Poppy’s being silly,’ Vanessa said soothingly. ‘Now then, let’s all go and wash our hands, shall we? Poppy and Mia have a lot of eyeshadow on their fingers, haven’t they? What a lot of colours.’
‘Can I buy eyeshadow with my birthday money?’ Bunny asked.
‘Oh, you’re pretty enough already. You don’t need any,’ Vanessa said.
Sara’s eyes narrowed as she left the room.
