Page 31 of A Merry Little Christmas
‘What do you mean?’ Maddy looked puzzled.
I nodded slowly, in tune with Kenzie’s train of thought. ‘If Ellie’s plan is to donate her chutney to the WI sale and sell it at her own Christmas market stall, shouldn’t we havetoldher it wasn’t up to scratch?’
‘That’s true,’ murmured Jaz. ‘Ellie needs to know. I hate it when I cook something and no one’s very keen on it. But I think I’d hate it even more if they lied to me and said it was great when it wasn’t.’
Kenzie nodded. ‘Exactly. Imagine if the customers were to demand their money back. Ellie would be mortified.’
Fen groaned, looking horrified at the thought of breaking the news to Ellie. ‘But she looked soproudof having made that chutney herself. I’m not sure I want to be the one who bursts her bubble.’
‘Me, neither,’ I admitted. ‘And actually, I don’t think peoplewouldreturn it. They would probably just think it wasn’t to their taste and stick it in a cupboard.’
‘True. It wasn’tinedible.’ Fen shrugged. ‘People who are fond of vinegar might actually like it.’
She looked so earnest, trying to convince herself of this, that she set us all off chuckling again.
I felt a stab of guilt and glanced back at the café. ‘I feel terrible discussing this behind Ellie’s back.’
‘Me, too,’ agreed Fen, and Jaz nodded.
‘So who’s going to tell her the truth?’ asked Kenzie.
There was a tense silence. Then Maddy gave a huge yawn. ‘Sorry, I think I’ve got jet lag. Can we sleep on it? I’m far too tired to think just now.’
‘Jet lag? From a two-hour flight?’ I laughed. ‘I think you have to cross time zones for that to happen.’
Maddy shrugged. ‘Maybe I just want an excuse. So I don’t have to tell Ellie that eating her chutney felt like my tongue had been enrolled in some freaky chemistry experiment without my consent.’
*****
Maddy had arranged to be picked up by her hubby, Jack, from my flat, and Fen decided she needed to visit the village store before heading home, so we all walked across the village green together.
Kenzie was telling us about the special edition crockery she’d been designing for the festive season, and which she’d be sellingat the Christmas market. It sounded fabulous and when she suggested we all call in at hers for a preview, we all said yes.
The crockery was indeed gorgeous, and Fen decided on the spot that the cute condiment dishes would be perfect for the cranberry sauce at the Christmas lunch she’d be hosting for the family.
‘Special mates’ rates, of course,’ smiled Kenzie, who was looking flushed with pleasure at the compliments.
Jack wasn’t arriving for a while so we sat in Kenzie’s small but cosy living room, four of us squashed onto her sofa, and we chatted some more about the Christmas market and Maddy brought out a bottle of lemon drizzle gin she’d bought earlier.
‘Don’t you want to save it for nearer Christmas?’ asked Kenzie, getting up to get glasses.
Maddy snorted. ‘As far as I’m concerned it’s as good as Christmas already. And anyway, I never need an excuse to drink gin with my friends. Especially lemon drizzle!’
She followed Kenzie into the kitchen, and next second we heard the sound of a key in the lock and the front door opening.
‘That’s Aidan home,’ said Kenzie, going to meet her boyfriend in the hall. ‘I’ve just realised we’re out of tonic water, Maddy,’ she called back. ‘But there’s lemonade in the fridge.’
‘Hey, everyone.’ Aidan looked surprised to see us all. ‘It looks like I’ve arrived at the perfect time.’ He smiled over at Maddy, who was walking in with a tray of clinking glasses.
‘I poured an extra one for you,’ grinned Maddy. ‘Sorry, Kenzie, I don’t mean to take over here.’
Kenzie laughed. ‘Be my guest. There’s crisps in the cupboard if you’d like to bring them out?’ Smiling, she snuggled up to Aidan briefly and they shared a kiss, their happiness clear for all to see.
I glanced away, a hollow feeling inside.
It was such a cosy scene, everyone drinking a toast to the festive season. All my friends were in love and looking forward to Christmas, and I was so happy for them.
If only my own relationship wasn’t on such shaky ground . . .
