Page 62 of Five Gold Rings

‘Could ask you the same,’ I tell him. ‘Nice jumper, by the way.’

He narrows his eyes at me, and I instantly want to knee him in the baubles. Now? Shall I do it now?

‘Both of you need to leave. I’ve not squared this up with my family yet. You’re going to ruin everyone’s Christmas out there if you do this now,’ he loud-whispers, anger in his eyes.

‘Did you square it up with Eve before you had an affair? What about her Christmas?’ Joe asks, calmly.

‘I don’t care about Eve.’

‘This is quite clear,’ Joe replies.

This is not just sad, it’s shameful that I thought this person felt some sort of love for me or that I loved him. He stands there glaring at me when suddenly the kitchen door flies open and his mother enters, headed to the fridge.

‘Christopher, enough chat. Get these two a mulled wine.’

‘I’ll just have a sparkling water, maybe a juice. I don’t drink,’ Joe replies in his Scandi accent.

‘At Christmas? How does one cope?’ she shrieks.

‘I don’t drink all year round.’

‘Whyever not?’ she replies haughtily.

‘Because my father suffered from liver cancer,’ he says coolly.

He did? I glance over at him, moved by him confessing something so profound in this moment, but no one else seems to respond. I look at him and he catches my eye. You never said? He smiles back at me, reassuringly. Chris looks ready to either run out the back door or smash up a kitchen drawer.

‘I am so thankful you’re here actually, Eve. You know how terrible everyone is in there with helping so it’s good to have my little catering assistant on board,’ Miriam says with heavy hints of condescension.

‘Did the turkey have its bath?’ I ask as she pushes a mug of mulled wine in my direction. I take massive gulps from it to help me survive the moment.

‘It did,’ she replies.

‘I hope it lit candles, and played a bit of Norah Jones, too,’ Joe replies, still sticking with his accent.

‘They bathe the turkey in brine, in a bin,’ I tell him.

‘It’s how Nigella does it, Olaf,’ Miriam adds.

Olaf. I giggle when she says his name. Maybe it’s the mulled wine or it’s because this situation is so bloody ridiculous. However, for once, I’ll admit that it’s nice to have the upper hand, to reclaim some power, to make Chris sweat.

‘Come and look at my bird!’ Miriam announces.

‘But we’ve only just met,’ Joe tells her and everyone laughs. Except Chris, of course.

In the corner of the kitchen, she unveils her splendid golden turkey. ‘I like to dress him in foil and keep him juicy. Moist breasts are so important.’

‘Indeed,’ Joe says, trying to be Swedish and not burst into hysterics at the same time.

‘So, tell me, Olaf, are you enjoying London? What’s it like living with these two?’ Miriam says as she checks in on some potatoes in the oven. ‘They’re a lovely couple, aren’t they? Eve is practically family.’ Chris’s eyes glance to the floor to hear her say that. ‘And are you attached, Olaf?’ she asks Joe as I watch her ferry dishes around the kitchen.

‘Yes, my girlfriend’s name is Allegra.’

My eyes widen at this, and I hold my mug near my face to hide my reaction. Chris coughs and chokes slightly on his beer.

‘And what is she doing for Christmas?’ Miriam continues.

‘Oh, she’s tied up with work. She’s on her knees with the stress.’