Читать книгу Four Christmases and a Secret - Zara Stoneley, Zara Stoneley - Страница 14

Yay! I have found my jumper and antlers! I’ve just dug out the spare Christmas gift bag that I kept in case of emergencies, and voilà! There they were. Along with some leftover stuffed dates (last year’s disaster) and some shrivelled up mistletoe.

I’ve also come up with perfect reason to keep away from fresh mistletoe! I just googled, more out of desperation than real hope, and it is poisonous to dogs, and I have Stanley. We don’t want vomiting, drooling and diarrhoea in the vicinity of Uncle Terence’s first editions, do we? I never thought I would say this, in response to those three words, but … result!

‘What the hell is that, Daisy?’ Frankie is lurking in my doorway, a drink in her hands, pointing at my list which is pinned to the wardrobe. Along with a photo of Simon with a heart shaped hole cut out of his stomach, and a big cross over the ‘sausage rolls’. She is looking very Ab Fab and is struggling to sound indignant, she’s laughing too much. She starts to pull my list off the wardrobe, then pauses and spins back round to stare at me. ‘Fuck me, you really do take this family party thing seriously! Great jumper, not so sure about the twigs growing out of your head though.’

‘Antlers!’

‘I need to come and see this!’

‘No, you don’t. And you haven’t got a Christmas jumper.’

‘And does this,’ she peels Simon off the door, prods her finger through the hole in his chest, then rotates him slowly, ‘mean you haven’t got a date?’

‘Well, yeah.’

‘Well, nor have I.’ She grins, wickedly. ‘I can be your date!’

‘I’m taking Stanley.’ Stanley dives under the bed.

‘Who the fuck is Stanley? Have you been two-timing Simon?’ She gives a low whistle. ‘Dark horse!’

I sigh. ‘Stanley is the dog I’ve agreed to foster over the holidays.’

‘Oh.’ She looks disappointed, then frowns. ‘How did I not know about this?’

‘I smuggled him in, I knew you’d like him once you got to know him.’ It’s her flat, and I really should have asked her, but I couldn’t risk her saying no. Stanley can’t spend Christmas in a kennel.

‘Whatever.’ Frankie suddenly smiles. ‘Well, you can take me too then! Pleeeeeeease!’

‘Where’s Tarquin?’ I look at her with suspicion. She had a night of lust planned, like you do on Christmas eve if you’re a normal person and have a boyfriend, which is why she’s glammed up.

‘I told him to fuck off.’ She downs her drink. ‘He started a sentence with ‘if you really cared about me’, and it all went downhill from there. He needs to get a life.’

She sounds a bit sulky.

‘He is trying to, Frankie, with you.’

‘I’m not ready, I’d be bored within a week and so would he. Can I come?’

I look at Stanley, who is peeking out from under the bed. He stares back, resignedly.

‘It’s full of old people, and books.’

‘You should get a career in sales, oh hang on, you have! Please, it’ll be fun. I can do old people.’

I’m sure she can. ‘You’ll have to promise to behave and not put a straw in the vat of mulled wine.’

‘Promise. I won’t.’

She probably will.

‘And not propose to Uncle T?’

‘Is he rich?’

‘Very, but he’s probably married at the moment. I can’t remember. You mustn’t try and steal him!’

‘Okay.’ She puts on her sweet and innocent smile. But I know she’s not either.

‘Come on then,’ I sigh, I haven’t got time to argue, ‘I’m taking my car and getting a taxi back.’

‘Cool. Can I wear your antlers?’