Page 26 of Christmas at the Movies
‘Ididn’thave a lie-in,’ snapped Sarah irritably. ‘I just haven’t had a chance to shower. I’ve been too busy.’
James crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her attack a cobweb in the corner of the room with unnecessary force. ‘Are you annoyed that I went for a bike ride?’
It wasn’t about the bike ride. She knew exercise was important for his mental health. But what abouthermental health? Writing used to be her release. No wonder she’d been feeling so frustrated and angry. She had no outlet for her creativity. Unless you counted pancake art.
‘No. It’s just … everything,’ said Sarah, exasperated. ‘I never get any time to myself. And even if I did, I don’t have the brain space to do anything – I’m too busy worrying about Mum and the kids. Holly was right – I haven’t written a word in years.’
Maybe it was her own fault, for notclaimingher space the way James had. Sarah had got so used to putting everyone else’s needs first, she had almost forgotten she even had her own needs.
‘It’s nearly Christmas,’ said James soothingly. ‘We’ll get a few days off soon. Maybe you can do some writing then?’
Sarah groaned. ‘Christmas is just more work for me!’ How could he not see that? So much stress went into making Christmas a magical day for the whole family. There were presents to be bought and wrapped. Cards to write. Food to prepare. It wasn’t done by Santa’s elves – it wasdone by her. ‘I haven’t done any Christmas shopping, or put up any decorations, and I haven’t even planned the bloody film festival!’
‘But you love the film festival.’
Sarahdidlove the festival, and picking the movies they showed. She wasn’t normally so Scrooge-like.
‘I just don’t know if I can be bothered with it this year,’ said Sarah. ‘Can we really afford to run it?’
‘I’m sure you don’t really mean that,’ said James. ‘Everyone loves the film festival. They look forward to it all year. We wouldn’t want to let them down.’
Great.Once again, what Sarah wanted was irrelevant. Sometimes it felt like her husband cared more about everyone else in Plumdale than he did about her.
Shaking her head in dismay, Sarah went upstairs to get ready for work.
Holly was in her room, but instead of doing her homework as she’d told Mum she was trying to figure out what to wear to work. That waswaaaaymore important.
A few weeks ago, she’d painted her bedroom walls deep purple, covering up the babyish floral wallpaper that had adorned her room since she was little. Mum had warned her that the colour was too dark, but Holly had gone ahead anyway. Now her room made her feel like she was trapped inside a plum, not that she was going to give her mother the satisfaction of admitting that.
Holly pulled on some jeans and a cropped, scoop-necked top. Then she took off the jeans and put on a denim miniskirt. Did it look like she was trying too hard?
She wriggled out of the skirt and put her jeans back on. She studied herself in the mirror.
Yes, that was better.
She tuned out the sound of her parents squabbling downstairs as she did her make-up.
Copying something she’d seen on a make-up tutorial, she drew dramatic swooshes of kohl on her eyelids, making her blue eyes pop. Her drama teacher at school was always saying that eyes were the windows of the soul.
Standing in front of the mirror, Holly practised conveying different emotions with just her eyes. She lowered her lids in what she hoped made her look like a smouldering temptress.
‘Holly!’ Mum shouted up the stairs. ‘Hurry up or we’ll be late for Kids’ Club!’
Now, the emotion in her eyes was unmistakeable – irritation. Kids’ Club was a nightmare – some kids acted completely feral at the cinema and their parents didn’t even tell them off.
‘Holly!’ called Mum again. ‘Are you nearly ready?’
‘Yes!’ shouted Holly. Her mother wassooooannoying. Holly was sure her mum could have persuaded Dad to let her audition if she’d wanted to. But no, she’d stopped Holly from being involved in the only interesting thing ever to happen in Plumdale.
Did she really think pancakes could fix things? (That said, it had taken all of Holly’s willpower not to have one.)
Downstairs, Mum was fussing over Nick. As usual. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be OK at home?’
‘He’s twelve,’ said Holly. ‘He’s not a baby.’ Holly’s little brother didn’t like noisy situations, and the Saturday morning Kids’ Club was LOUD. He’d been relieved when his parents had started letting him stay at home. No such luck for her though.
Nick picked up the cat who was rubbing against his legs. ‘Jonesy will keep me company.’
‘Bye, squirt,’ said Holly, even though Nick was rapidly catching up with her height. She felt bad about being mean to him earlier. He was actually a pretty cool kid, just … different.
