Page 13 of A Different Kind Of December
Tallulah is wearing a headband with a flashing star on top, and Kiki has on aSanta’s Little Helperpixie-style hat with red tracer lights racing through it.
They’re discussing a couple of Tinker Bell tree decorations we bought for them in Florida one year. They’re so deep in conversation, recalling the holiday where Lu pushed Kiks in the pool over something or another, that I manage to take a couple of pictures of them on my phone without them spotting me.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding—”
“Harry!” I shout.
“Sorry, but this ref needs glasses. No way was that offside,” he calls out from the games room where he and George are on the PlayStation.
Every year, I promise to get a swear jar in time for the new FIFA game to come out, and every year I forget.
The level of swearing they reach would give my mother a coronary if she were to hear it.
“Okay, kids, change of plan. We’re gonna go to Lakeside, do a bit of shopping, grab lunch at wherever you choose, and then go to Ash and Marley’s.”
“What about the decorations?” Kiki looks up from her spot on the floor.
“Dad’s on the phone to Squires now, he’s asking if they can do the inside as well as the outside decorations. I’ll just add our personal bits and pieces over the weekend.”
Lu and Kiks both stare up at me blankly, as if I’ve just spoken to them in Hebrew and they’ve no comprehension of what I’ve said.
Harry and George poke their heads around the game room’s door and look at me in much the same way.
“What?” I question, wondering what the fuck is wrong with my kids.
“Squires?” H questions.
“You’re letting someone else do the inside decorations?” Kiki asks, sounding astounded.
“Yes. All change this year. I’m handing it over to someone else and having a day out with my family. If you all keep looking so shocked, or I hear a single mention of CDO or meltdowns of Georgia proportions, you’ll all take the bus to school without any lunch money for the rest of the year.”
They all take turns staring wide-eyed at first me and then each other.
“Come on then, get yourselves sorted.” I clap my hands as I speak, and the kids all head up the stairs.
“And remember, it’s just Lakeside, not a film premiere or a fashion show we’re going to.”
Their mumbled responses are indecipherable as I head into the kitchen for a last-minute tidy up before we leave. Although, knowing how long my kids take to get ready, I’ve probably got time to wash and dry three loads of washing, so I head out to the utility room instead.
Shopping is interesting. Because ofmentions of Sean and the anniversary of his death on the news and social media, pictures have been broadcast and posted of the two of us. Meaning that I’m recognised a lot more than usual. Something I didn’t even consider when I suggested our family day out.
I get asked for my autograph three times and pose for four photos. Cam makes sure to keep the kids out of the way while this happens, which is a hard and fast rule of ours.
We’ve been papped with the kids occasionally, but if it’s possible to have any control over pictures being taken of our children, then I exert that power to the fullest.
The kids choose Wagamama for lunch, and as we wait for our table, it takes me a few moments to realise that the place has fallen quiet and people are staring.
“Dad, that woman’s taking photos,” Kiki whispers loudly.
We all turn in the direction that Kiks gestures, and sure enough, an overly made-up woman, who looks to be in her fifties, has her phone aimed in our direction.
“Turn your backs, kids,” Cam says just as I start to make my way over to her table.
“Georgia.” I’m grabbed gently by my elbow and turn to see my husband shaking his head at me. “I’ll deal with it.”
“But—”
“No, not today.”
