Page 6 of Christmas in Mistletoe
They all nodded, then started along the main path to the farmhouse.
Barking from the other side of the door greeted their knock. It opened to reveal an excitable golden Labrador, held tight by a woman in jeans and a dusky pink jumper, her short ruddy-brown hair sticking up at all angles. A bald man with metal-framed glasses appeared at her side. The woman’s face broke into a welcoming smile when her glance settled on Fran’s parents and then on her.
“You made it! Come in, welcome! You must be Francesca. I’m Mary. This is our overgrown puppy, Chipper, and that’s my husband Paul. It’s lovely to meet you!”
Paul gave them a wave, then grabbed the dog and disappeared, before returning in seconds.
Her hands now free, Mary wasted no time in hugging Fran.
Fran hesitantly returned it. There really was no other option.
Paul, who towered over Mary, did the same, before leading everyone through to their farmhouse kitchen.
“Excuse the pumpkins!” Mary added.
In stark contrast to Fran’s parents’ newly refurbed pad, this kitchen had seen better days. However, even though the floor was scuffed and the cupboards worn, the smell lingering in the air was divine. The table was laden with sausage rolls, cheese, crackers, chutneys and a tray of scones. There were also wine glasses in an array of shapes and sizes, as if they’d once had six sets, but now just had one glass left from each. The fridge was covered in a montage of flyers, leaflets and lists, and the mantle that adorned the room’s centrepiece fireplace was laden with family photos. Dad and Pop had mentioned one daughter who lived in London, but there were clearly more children. None of them were in this room, though.
As if reading her mind, Mary walked past, patting Fran’s arm. “Let me just give Ruby a shout.”
Fran braced herself. She hoped she and Ruby had something to talk about. It was going to be a toe-curling evening, otherwise. Or perhaps one where she could just fill her mouth with pastry items so she didn’t have to talk.
Fran was just doing exactly that — a still-hot sausage roll, so good she was worried she might have groaned in pleasure when she bit into it — when Mary reappeared.
“Found her!” Mary stepped back to reveal her daughter. Tall as a tree. Mud-red hair. Intense green eyes. A stare that Fran had been on the receiving end of before.
Fran blinked then sucked in a breath. Big mistake. A piece of sausage roll lodged in her throat and she doubled over, coughing violently. She sucked in a huge breath. That only made it worse.
In seconds, Dad was behind her, whacking her back with his shovel-like hand. Why did people insist on doing that?
Fran shook her head frantically, but was too busy choking to tell him to stop. Her insides wheezed as she fought to catch her breath, panic blaring in her brain.
Dad switched to two hands around her middle. He gripped, then pressed hard.
A huge gust of breath rushed up Fran, and the offending bit of sausage roll flew out of her mouth at speed. It landed on the toe of Ruby’s right slipper, which was styled in the shape of a snowman.
Fran should have been more embarrassed, but she was too focused on getting her breath back. She coughed some more, tears streaming down her face. She could just imagine the bemused faces all around the kitchen. She put the palms of her hands on her thighs, then took a few more steadying breaths. She accepted a tissue from Mary, a consoling hand on her back from Pop, then straightened.
It was only then she was doused in embarrassment. What a way to make an impression on her parents’ new neighbours.
One of whom was the only singer to ever turn her down.
“I’m so sorry, that sausage roll went down the wrong way,” Fran said.
“Don’t be silly!” Mary thrust a glass of red wine into her hand. “Have a drink, that’ll make you feel better.”
But all Fran could see was the regurgitated sausage roll, still sitting pretty on Ruby’s slipper. Where was Chipper when she needed him? Fran glanced at Ruby’s face, then back to the slipper. She had to deal with it.
She put her wine on the table, then lunged forward, tissue in hand, and scooped up the sausage roll. It would have been a successful mission too, if her head hadn’t met the farmhouse table on the way back up. The crack as her skull hit solid wood reverberated in the air. Fran staggered left, clutching her head.
Arms held her upright as pain ricocheted around her brain. She winced, closing her eyes, waiting for it to pass. Could this night get much worse? Shereallyhoped this was the low point.
“Oh my goodness, are you okay?” That was Mary again, her voice rising as she spoke.
Eventually, Fran opened her eyes, her vision watery. When she glanced Ruby’s way, she was sure she could see the hint of a smirk under her blank features. Fran didn’t blame her. She’d provided a wealth of entertainment already.
“I’m fine. I just need to stand still and not move or eat anything for a little while.” Her head throbbed as she eased her dad’s hands from her. “I’m not normally this clumsy.”
“Don’t worry about it. Ruby was a terribly clumsy child. Always in the hospital, weren’t you?”
