Page 27 of Salvaging Christmas

“No, Rudy. You don’t need—” said Trevor, then angrily to his ex. “Karl!”

“Yes, Karl. Why don’t you keep your fat mouth shut!” Cheryl’s voice sounded from across the room as she entered. For the first time since their trip down, she looked like her old self. Fully made up, but with her hair tied back tonight, she wore jeans and a maroon sweater. “We have a guest, and you’re being rude.”

“I’m just saying. Unless we’re operating a soup kitchen that nobody informed me about, I thought everyone paid their way.”

“He’s my guest—” said Trevor.

“Yours, maybe. He’s not mine, or Mary’s.”

“No, he’s Trevor’s, and therefore mine,” came Cheryl’s voice as she sat down at the table. “And I’ve paid in full for Hannah. For the whole holiday. Because, as you see, she couldn’t come, which is also fortunate because your wife gets to eat her vegetarian meals. So tonight, Rudy’s here at my request and, as far as I’m concerned, he can stay as long as he wants, and eat with us whenever he chooses.”

“That’s not the point. It’s the principle,” said Karl, now at his strident worst. Trevor remembered the tone well, understanding for the first time how insulting and demeaning he could sound. “Why are you suddenly inviting strangers into our group and to our table? Two from Hannah’s work nobody seems to know much about, and now this random. I thought the whole point of this precious annual event was to enjoy the company of like-minded friends?”

“Me and Johnny keep asking ourselves the same thing. And we still can’t figure out why the fuck you and Mary are still here,” said Frank, also entering the kitchen and heading for a seat.

“Do sit down, Karl, dear,” said Mrs M, craning around from the Aga. “In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re making a fool of yourself.”

“The point is, Mrs M,” said Karl, not giving ground, like a terrier with its teeth buried into a trouser leg, “this kind of thing would have been discussed and agreed between all of us in the past. And nobody has said anything to me about having another guest for dinner.”

“That’s because it’s nobody’s business but mine,” said Mrs M, slamming the Aga door shut before turning to address everyone. “And in case you hadn’t realised, Rudy, this delightful gentleman with no manners whatsoever is Karl. He used to be married to Trevor. But apparently Trevor wasn’t good enough for him.”

“Well said, Mrs M,” said Frank.

“Mrs M, can we please—” said Trevor.

Everyone fell silent at the sound of Rudy’s chair scraping away from the table. Even though he felt dismayed, Trevor understood. Why would anyone want to stick around after having witnessed their dysfunctional group and been insulted very publicly? If Rudy left now, Trevor would not blame him and would at least make sure to see him to his car.

Instead, Rudy stood and went over to Karl. Even Karl appeared momentarily taken aback by the imposing figure that approached him. Everyone waited for a few seconds. Maybe they, too, wondered if Rudy intended to thump Karl. But instead, he held out a hand.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Karl,” said Rudy, in his usual mannered way. “I don’t want you to think I’ve gate-crashed your dinner and, as I say, I’m more than happy to contribute financially. Out of pure kindness on his part, Trev insisted I come tonight, knowing I’d have been alone this evening. My parents are away in Vancouver, you see. I’ll try not to get in the way too much, and I promise to do my fair share of the kitchen duties. I’ve also brought presents for everyone, which is my way of saying thank you for letting me join you.”

After shaking and releasing Rudy’s hand, Karl stood dumbfounded for a moment before smiling and responding. Peripherally, Trevor noticed Mary enter the room and move to a seat near the table’s end.

“He lets you get away with calling him Trev, does he?” asked Karl smirking. “That’s a first.”

“You don’t like being called Trev?” asked Rudy quizzically, turning to Trevor. “Why didn’t you say?”

“Most of the time I don’t like people calling me Trev, that’s true. But on your tongue, and with your accent, I don’t know. Trev sounds quite nice. More of the cultured North. Less South London.”

Everyone burst into laughter—including Karl and Mary—and even though Trevor had been deadly serious, he joined in, relieved at the change of atmosphere. Just then Jessica, Antoni and Johnny arrived, all of them smiling and more than likely attracted by the sounds of merriment.

“Trevor’s always been a snob,” said Karl, above the laughter. Karl had often called him out with the label in public, and Trevor usually ignored the slight. As he smiled around the room, he noticed Rudy had stopped laughing. Fortunately, nobody else had seen, and when they all sat back at the table, Karl had warmed to Rudy because he took the seat next to him. Not for long, though, because Rudy got up and went to introduce himself to the newly arrived guests.

At least with everyone chatting at the kitchen table, Trevor felt comfortable stepping away and helping Mrs M with the preparations. Only as he turned to survey the gathering did he notice how they’d all assumed the same seating positions as the night before, but this time with Rudy at the opposite end of the dinner table. Johnny stood up to get drinks for everyone from the large fridge, and Cheryl kept everyone amused with stories of their afternoon trek around the loch. At the other end of the table, Rudy chatted happily with the group, with even a pale-looking Mary joining the fun. Trevor set the table around them, keeping an ever-watchful eye on everyone. Jessica appeared to be taken with Rudy and flirted shamelessly. Trevor did his best not to stare. Every so often Rudy sent Trevor a private smile, one he either returned with a nod or tried to ignore. Before long, chatter around the table had reached a comfortable level.

“Are you okay, dear?” Mrs M had placed the beef Wellington onto a chopping board to rest and now checked on a pot of vegetables. “You seem a bit distracted. Rudy can look after himself.”

“I know that,” said Trevor.

“He’s a such lovely boy. And listen to that lot getting along, so different to last night,” she said, lifting the steaming pot off the heat and taking the contents to the sink. “He clearly likes you, you know?”

“Yeah,” said Trevor, helping her strain the contents with a colander. “If only ‘like’ did it for me.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice softening. “I see. Have you spoken to him?”

“Enough to know he’s doesn’t bat for our team.”

“He said that?”

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