Page 63 of The Village Christmas Party

THIRTY-FOUR

As the day rolls on, I feel nervous and excited about this evening. Gemma and I had sat in the staffroom earlier and I hadn’t managed to eat a thing, Gemma asked me if I was feeling okay and I’d told her I was fine, just not hungry. She never really said much about my date with Kian, but then she has spent half of the afternoon trying to suppress yawns, so she clearly had a really late night last night.

The afternoon ticks over, with me trying to quell the nerves in my stomach, and soon enough it’s time for me to finish my shift and I grab my coat and bag ready to head off for home.

‘I hope your date goes well,’ says Gemma. ‘And I’m sorry I haven’t said much about it, but you’re my best friend and I can’t bear the thought of you being hurt, you are so good to everyone else, you deserve nothing but the best.’

She throws her arms around me and squeezes me.

‘Oh, Gem, I know. And thanks. I promise to get to the bottom of the mystery woman, don’t worry, and I am touched by your concern, really.’

Back home, I find Dad knocking nails into a wall, repairing a shelf in the kitchen that was ever so slightly wonky.

‘Dad, what are you doing? You are supposed to be taking things easy,’ I tell him as I shrug off my coat.

‘I know, but that shelf was annoying me. Whoever put that up mustn’t have owned a spirit level,’ he says, with a shake of the head.

Dad has the same eye for detail as me, and I had also noticed the ever so slightly off-kilter shelf that my previous boyfriend had erected, his one contribution to any DIY in the house. I didn’t want to comment on it at the time, in the hope it might have encouraged him to do a bit more but that never happened. I must have become accustomed to the shelf being like that over time, although maybe my cookery books lining it had obscured the imperfection slightly.

Dad straightening the shelf has somehow removed any final reminder of my ex, which seems fitting as I am out on a date for the first time in ages.

‘Thanks, but take it easy now. You have your operation in a few days,’ I remind him.

‘I’m fine, love, just a bit bored,’ he confesses. ‘And there was no heavy lifting involved,’ he assures me. ‘And your mother won’t let me lift a finger, even though she’s only just about on her feet herself.’ He nods towards the kitchen. ‘And no one wants their gardens doing with this ground frost.’

‘I’ll tell you what you can do then,’ says Mum, emerging from the kitchen, a tea towel thrown over her shoulder. ‘You could pop down to the allotments and get a couple of parsnips, if you have any left. I’ve found a lovely recipe for parsnip and apple soup.’

‘I’m on my way,’ says Dad, looking pleased. ‘There are plenty left as I always grow far too many.’

‘And don’t be doing any work down there,’ she shouts after him as he collects his coat from a hanger in the hall.

‘Your father never did like sitting around,’ says Mum, pouring me a cup of tea a few minutes later.

‘That’s true. Talking of which, areyounot doing too much?’ I ask, although Mum seems to be healing remarkably well.

‘I’m absolutely fine. I had no broken bones remember, just bruising which is fading fast. Look.’

She pulls her jeans down slightly and reveals the large bruise that is already beginning to turn a pale yellow.

‘I’m pleased you healed so quickly, Mum. I hope I have your genes when I get older.’

‘Just look after yourself, that’s the trick. Although good genes do help, of course.’ She winks.

‘Right, I must go and get ready,’ I tell Mum as another fluttering of nerves take hold. ‘Will you give me your honest opinion on my outfit?’ I ask.

‘You know I will.’

I shower and change, finally having settled on a pair of wide-legged black trousers, paired with my new purchase, the silver-grey blouse. I decide to gel and smooth my hair back into a ponytail and a slash of red lipstick completes the look. When I make my way downstairs, Dad has just returned, smelling of fresh air and earth.

‘Just look at you.’ Dad gives a low whistle. ‘This Kian is a lucky bloke.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’ I am happy to have his approval, although Mum will give me an honest appraisal.

‘Oh yes,’ she agrees. ‘You look really beautiful, classy but not overdone.’

‘Thanks, Mum, that’s exactly the look I was aiming for.’

‘Although…’ She cocks her head to one side and studies me for a moment. ‘Maybe you could do with a necklace. What about that silver one?’

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