Page 25 of Christmas at the Movies
The cat, named for the ship’s cat inAlien, nibbled his food.
‘His litter tray needs cleaning too,’ said Nick, his mouth full of pancake.
Ugh.
Sarah went into the tiny utility room and changed the cat litter. While she was in there, the washing machine beeped. She hung the damp clothes out on the old-fashioned wooden airing rack suspended from the ceiling. When they’d bought the cottage, she’d thought it was a charming period feature. That was before she’d dried hundreds of loads of laundry on the rickety device.
‘Is my PE kit clean?’ called Nick, just as she was raising the rack up again, to dangle overhead like a colourful chandelier of pants, T-shirts and socks.
‘Did you put it in the hamper?’ Sometimes Sarah suspected that the dirty socks and underwear spawned in the hamper – surely that was the only explanation for how there were always so many clothes to wash.
‘No, it was in my bag. Oh, and my trainers are getting tight.’
Sarah sighed. It looked like she’d be doing another load of washing tomorrow and somehow find time to takeNick shoe-shopping. How was it possible that he’d already outgrown the trainers she’d bought at the start of term?
By the time she sat down to eat her pancake, it had gone cold.
‘You two need to give me your Christmas lists. And your birthday list, Holly.’ Sarah knew better than to try to choose things herself for her teenaged daughter. She would only get it wrong. She hoped neither of the kids wanted anything big for Christmas. There wasn’t a lot of spare money about this year, not with the cinema struggling.
‘I just want money,’ said Holly. ‘So I can get professional headshots done.’ She narrowed her eyes at her mother. ‘Or are you going to stop me from doing that, too.’
Don’t rise to the bait,Sarah told herself.
‘I just want art stuff and a new LEGO kit,’ said Nick.
‘“I just want art stuff,”’ mimicked Holly, in a perfect imitation of her brother. ‘God, you’re such a little goody two shoes. Aren’t you too old to play with LEGO?’
‘Ignore her, Nick,’ said Sarah. ‘You can build LEGO models as long as you like. Plenty of grown-ups love LEGO.’
‘Holly just feels frustrated,’ said Nick sagely.
‘Shut up,’ Holly told him. ‘I don’t need you telling me what I feel, you little weirdo.’
That was it – Sarah had had enough. It was one thing being horrible to her, but Holly didn’t need to be mean to her brother as well. ‘Holly – if you don’t drop the bad attitude, the only thing you can expect in your stocking is a lump of coal.’
Holly gave her mother a look of pure contempt. ‘I’m just trying to help. Can’t he at leasttryto act normal? He sits by himself in the canteen at lunchtime. It’s tragic.’
Nick bit his lip and Sarah knew he was trying not to cry.
‘If you can’t be civil, you can and go start on your chores,’ Sarah told her.
‘I’m afraid I’ve got far too much homework to do my chores,’ said Holly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘I know howimportantmy schoolwork is to you.’ She smirked triumphantly and went upstairs.
Sarah closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself not to scream in frustration. Had she been so disrespectful at Holly’s age? No, Geraldine would never have stood for it. She knew she should force Holly to come back downstairs and clean the living room, but she didn’t have the energy for another battle.
‘I’ll do the breakfast dishes,’ said Nick.
‘Thanks, sweetie.’ Sarah tousled her son’s hair affectionately.
Sarah dragged the vacuum cleaner into a room with exposed oak beams and a big fireplace. The living room was decorated with an eclectic mix of second-hand furniture from their friend Ian’s antique shop, movie posters, prints that they’d picked up on their travels and artwork by local artists who had displayed their work in the cinema café. It was a wonderfully cosy room, but the downside to living in an old cottage was that it attracted dust and cobwebs.
Sarah hoovered up the cat hair, then dusted off the mantel, which was packed with framed photos, of Holly looking angelic in a primary school photo, her arms around her little brother protectively. How things had changed.
But Holly wasn’t the only one who had changed. Sarah picked up a picture of her and James on holiday in Hong Kong, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes on top of Victoria Peak. When was the last time they had looked at each other that way?
There was a clatter of cycling shoes on the kitchen’s flagstones and a moment later James came into the livingroom in his skintight cycling shorts and jersey. Sarah averted her eyes. It wasnota good look, despite the fact that James was still lean and fit. Middle-aged men in spandex looked ridiculous.
‘Still in your pyjamas,’ said James cheerfully, leaving footprints on the carpet she’d just hoovered. ‘I’m glad you had a lie-in.’
