Page 79 of Sad Girl Hours
A knock at the door jostles me out of my musings. Jenna’s already gone home, so it’s only me here to run down and answer the door.
I pelt down the stairs and open it up to Saffron, who’s standing there with a giant suitcase with flowers painted on it and a series of matching gift bags.
“Oh my God, hey! We were going to come and pick you up!” I say, stepping aside to let her in nevertheless. “You didn’t have to traipse over with all your stuff, you melon.”
“Yes, well, I figured this would be easier for your parents. I didn’t want to put you guys out any more than I already—”
“OK, ground rule number one for these holidays,” I say firmly. “No more talking about putting us out or being a ‘burden’ or anything else in that vein. We’re happy to have you, and we’re going to have a lovely time. End of story.”
“Bossy,” Saffron says though she’s smiling. “But OK. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Are you all ready to go? My dads should be about ten minutes away, I think.”
“I’m ready! Definitely ready. I’m excited to get out of town and be in the country with you guys.”
“You say that now but just wait until you’re on week two of being in a village with more cows than people under fifty and that’s ten miles out of radius of any takeaway places.”
“It sounds idyllic.”
“Ten miles, Saffron.Ten miles.”
She laughs. “I mean it! I’m so grateful that you guys are having me. I love cows, and I’m excited to have a chill holiday with you. And your family,” she adds.
“I don’t know aboutchill,” I say. “Maybe readjust your expectations there. Christmas is never exactly a ‘chill’ time in the Holloway household.”
A point that’s proven ten minutes later when I open the door to my dads, matching Santa hats on their heads, who immediately burst into a rendition of ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’, Dad ringing the bell on the end of Pops’ hat in time with the beat. Saffron looksdelighted.
After the last flick of the bell, I pretend to groan. “Dads. It’s been zero point eight seconds and already with the singing.”
“Well, excuse us for trying to bring the festive joy,” Dad says as he squeezes me tight. “Happy Christmas, darling. Are you all ready to go?”
“Yep, and Saffron’s here too –” I point behind me – “so we can head straight off.”
“Oh, excellent! Hello, Saffron!”
“We’re so glad you’re joining us,” Pops says, mussing up his peppery-grey hair. “Has Nell warned you about the chaos that reigns in our house at this time of year, though? Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
“She has, yes,” Saffron says. “But I’m excited. Thank you so much for having me.”
“It’s our pleasure, my dear.”
“Well, I’m still very grateful,” she says, and I can see the relief in her eyes, coupled with her visibly relaxing the tension in her shoulders. “I also now see where Nell gets her zest for life from.”
“Damn straight she got it from us,” Dad says. “We were so worried we’d get a boring child who was apathetic about things or didn’t have any fun interests. Or, God forbid, would be into sports, and we’d have to sit outside in the cold watching them move a ball from one place to another.”
I pull a face. “Ew, as if.”
“And then along came Nell,” Pops says with a note of wistfulness, “and we realised very quickly we had nothing to worry about there. You were very much yourself from day one.”
“And also absolutely appalling at sports,” Dad adds.
“Oi. At least I showed merit in other things.”
“Writing, yes,” Pops says. “Where you’re not at risk of accidentally maiming anyone else.”
“I don’t know,” Saffron says seriously. “Have you seen her when she gets really into it, and her hands are flying across the page, and she forgets where she is? She could take an eyeball out for sure.”
“That is very true actually. Excellent point, Saffron.”
