Page 32 of The Promise of Tomorrow
‘They only had frozen turkeys, not fresh ones, so chicken it is. But I’ve got everything else required for a perfect festive dinner – cranberry sauce, Christmas pudding, crackers, a holly and mistletoe paper tablecloth. How about we decorate the tree and then prepare the vegetables together?’
Rory led the way into the lounge. He took out his phone, scrolled for a moment, tapped and then placed it on the coffee table, volume on full.
It was playing Christmas jazz that he must have known Elena would love.
She opened a cardboard box on the floor and sorted through baubles. Together they hung them on the tree’s branches, some from her childhood, like the little pink unicorn covered in glitter and the yellow rubber duck wearing a Christmas hat. A large, rainbow metal star went on top. Dad used to put her on his shoulders when she was little so that she could place it. Her parents insisted Elena have it when she moved out.
‘I was expecting the decorations to be as coordinated as the rest of the house,’ he said as Frank Sinatra serenaded them.
‘It’s not Christmas without everything clashing – cranberry and turkey, cheese with grapes, raw eggs with nutmeg, relatives that hate each other… A Christmas tree should reflect the chaos that everyone pines for as soon as Halloween is over.’
‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’ came on the phone and she grabbed Rory’s hands, her, for once, instigating the Good Times Dance. Elena needed to relish every moment of today. Once the tree was done, they peeled carrots and parsnips and Brussels sprouts. After cheese on toast for a late lunch, they both went to get changed. The dining room table was set and Rory brought a packet of cards from the spare room. Elena stood waiting by the tree.
Rory entered the lounge and looked as if he’d seen Santa. He gave a drawn-out whistle. ‘You look great, Elena. Red really suits you.’
She wore a full-length halter neck dress that clung to her curves. She’d bought it, carried away after a champagne lunch to celebrate her mother’s birthday a couple of years ago, but had never worn it. Now was the time. Elena would get Rory to take a photo and send it to her parents. It had seemed too extravagant before, but now she wondered how couldanythingbe too much for life on earth that shouted beauty from every corner of the natural world. From the unnatural one, as well. Elena loved her round terrazzo coffee table, the swing seats in that Polish café in Manchester, the retro drinks trolley at Mum and Dad’s and the fake fish tank in Gary’s flat, and especially the pod swivel chair in Rory’s apartment that had made her feel like Captain Kirk from Star Trek that time she saw it when he invited the whole department round for drinks. Yet she’d tip-toed through life, in her twenties, wearing sensible trouser suits and flatties.
Rory wore a plaid kilt and matching blazer.
‘Nice,’ she said and waved her hand up and down.
‘This outfit might do for the office Christmas night out. What have you got planned? I promise not to tell Gary.’
Elena gasped. ‘Oh crap! I haven’t planned it yet, what with… with the broken biscuit idea taking over. What the hell am I going to do?’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘Got any ideas?’ she asked. Everyone would be so disappointed that she’d let them down.
‘Hmm… I saw an event advertised for the twenty-second. A little late, granted, and it’s a Sunday, so people might have family stuff on, but it looks amazing. A GPS-enabled festive treasure hunt around Manchester. It takes you to bars and ends in a restaurant for a buffet, with a mystery prize for the winning team, handed over by a local celebrity. It takes you from the Northern Quarter to the Village, to Deansgate and Spinningfields. Didn’t look too pricey, either. People could bring a plus one if they wanted to pay for them, seeing as it’s so near to Christmas and their partners might be off work.’
‘The twenty-second? That’s the day after my birthday.’ Her smile faltered. ‘No… it’s got to be before then. Leave it with me. I’ll sort something out.’
‘Why is the date so important? Have your mum and dad got something planned?’
She stared at the carpet.
He took her hand and led her to the sofa. ‘Everything okay? You haven’t seemed yourself lately. You can tell me, in confidence. What’s going on?’
Earnest chestnut eyes stared her way, as if they were reading her mind. If only that were true, then she wouldn’t have to say out loud what sounded like a ridiculous story. But then Rory hadnever been one for laughing at her, not even when she came up with a totally absurd marketing concept. Like the time they were running ideas past each other for a festive biscuit. Elena suggested a Christmas pudding-flavoured one, said Bingley Biscuits could hold a competition to find a random biscuit containing a golden sixpence. He’d tactfully pointed out they might receive dental work claims.
He took her hand again and rubbed his thumb across the top of it. Tingles went up her arm and she shivered. Must have been because her red dress wasn’t the warmest.
Elena took a deep breath. ‘Nearly twenty years ago,’ she said, ‘when I was ten, one night, I went on the common near our house, an open piece of land that had wooded areas. It was my birthday. I’d often sneak out to play with next door’s cat. That night I… I didn’t feel well, you see, and Mum was in hospital, because she’d been in a terrible accident. Dad was with her. A neighbour, Gayle, was looking after me.’
Rory nodded encouragingly.
‘I… I walked through the wooded area, needing fresh air. I was so warm wearing my Disney pyjamas, even though it was December, when suddenly?—’
The doorbell rang. Elena swallowed. Relief filled her chest. Had she lost her mind? Why would she tell anyone about that night? She pulled her hand away from Rory. If she told him everything, and in the unlikely event that he believed her, he’d only try to stop the inevitable outcome and might risk himself in the process. She went to the door, him following her.
Tahoor came in, rubbing his arms, and he raised an eyebrow at Rory’s legs. He took off his coat and Elena kissed his cheek. Tahoor had made an effort too, wearing a waistcoat over a shirt that had actually been ironed. He patted his head.
‘I went out and got a haircut this morning. I’ve brought…’ He passed Elena a Tupperware box. ‘My Isha’s masala stuffing balls – made by her. I found them in the freezer.’ He stared at the box. ‘I thought it would be difficult, eating her food, but it’ll be like having her with us.’
‘You don’t want to keep them for another time?’ asked Elena, gently.
‘She’d want you to try them. I’ll dig out the recipe if you like, and you can add it to your collection. A woman’s recipe box is one of the most important things she’ll bring to a marriage. Office skills are all very well, but they won’t be much good once you settle down and have babies.’
