The Faking Game, page 13
‘Right,’ she says, confirming that she doesn’t find me funny. ‘I guess I am looking forward to my first British Christmas dinner.’
‘Traditional British food isn’t exactly known for its surprises,’ Auntie Mary chimes in. ‘Don’t expect to be impressed.’
I scowl at the back of her head. My God, she is so rude.
‘It’s not right, having Christmas dinner on a day other than Christmas,’ Uncle Paddy moans. ‘It’s just another thing “the left” are trying to ruin.’
My eyebrows shoot up.
Tommy, as expected, is the first one to agree.
‘Too right, Paddy. They’re always messing with traditions.’
Oh, the pesky left.
‘The left what?’ Flora asks no one in particular, but her question is left hanging in the air. It’s not worth getting into.
The dining room door swings open, and my mum enters with a warm smile, ready to welcome her guests. She greets each family member with a hug and a pre-emptive Merry Christmas. When she approaches Auntie Mary, her outstretched arms are met with a hesitant embrace, one that doesn’t last all that long. It’s sad but Oliver and I always joke that hugging Auntie Mary is like riding a mechanical bull – points if you can hang on for longer than a second.
Mary pulls away, straightening her cardigan with a disapproving look on her face.
Intimacy. Ew.
‘Are we eating right away, as requested?’ she asks my mum impatiently.
‘We are indeed,’ Mum replies, her smile still firmly in place.
Honestly, you’d never believe we were doing all this for fun.
‘Let’s all take our seats,’ Mum adds.
As the rest of the family finds their seats at the dining table, my mum assigns me and Oliver tasks to keep everything running smoothly.
‘Oliver, if you can help me carry the food,’ Mum instructs. ‘Cara, if you can help Millsy with the drinks.’
‘See, this is why I always say it’s harder, being an only child, because you don’t have siblings to help you,’ Flora practically moans.
‘Is that why you keep having more kids?’ my dad dares to joke.
Flora is very much an only child, it shows in so many ways – but if it doesn’t, she tells you. She’s very proud of the fact for some reason.
I make my way through the kitchen, navigating my way past Mum and Oliver as they carry plates of food through to the dining room, and head towards the utility room where Millsy should be. I push the door open and I stop in my tracks when I catch sight of what appears to be blood stains on his shirt.
‘Oh, God,’ I exclaim, my voice trembling with concern. ‘Are you hurt? What the hell happened?’
‘It’s okay, the good news is I’m not hurt,’ he’s very quick to reassure me. ‘But the bad news is that someone left an axe on the floor by the side door, and I tripped over it, smashing every bottle of wine in the process.’
I’m relieved for a second but then, of course, it hits me that we still have one very big problem.
‘Oh, God,’ I blurt.
‘There were three bottles of red and three bottles of white,’ he explains. ‘And it’s total shit that white wine brings out red wine stains because I have both on my shirt right now.’
I rummage around in the clean washing pile for something for Millsy to change into. It’s a huge relief when I find one of my dad’s white shirts in there – I’m also really lucky that my dad is a giant, or there’s no way his clothes would fit Millsy’s muscular frame.
‘We need an idea,’ I tell him.
‘And fast,’ he replies as he takes his shirt off.
I quickly look away. I’m not going to come up with anything staring at his pecs.
‘I’ve got it,’ I say, turning back to face him as he buttons his fresh shirt up. ‘Run to the corner shop, grab some replacement bottles, any kind, just three red, three white – there’s no way Uncle Paddy will be able to tell the difference.’
‘Right, okay,’ Millsy replies. ‘But we can’t pour them into the old bottles, they’re all smashed.’
‘I’ll find something to pour them into,’ I tell him. ‘And stand guard until you get back.’
‘I’ll run,’ he says. ‘It can’t take more than ten minutes.’
I head into the kitchen and find a couple of wine carafes in the cupboard, then I take point at the utility room door, just in case someone comes in. I don’t know what my excuse will be, but I’ll come up with something.
Mum sticks her head into the kitchen.
‘Beer for Paddy, Tommy and Oliver, and lemonades for Flora and your gran,’ she tells me. ‘Wine for everyone else.’
‘Okay,’ I reply. ‘Millsy is just opening it.’
‘Lovely,’ she says before disappearing as fast as she appeared.
I wait, it can’t be more than a few minutes, but it feels like a lifetime, until Millsy returns.
‘I’ve got three of each but they’re all different kinds,’ he tells me breathlessly.
‘Oh, that lot will never tell,’ I insist. ‘Here, pour it into these carafes, I’ll get the other drinks sorted.’
With everything sorted, we carefully carry the drinks through, Millsy carrying the two carafes, one with red wine and one with white wine.
‘So, my next role, after Billy, is one that I can’t talk about yet,’ Millsy starts telling the room. ‘But the character in question is a sommelier, so I’ll be serving the wine, all night, if that’s okay with everyone? If you want anything, just ask.’
Oh, good work, Millsy. That’s seriously quick and incredibly smart thinking.
‘Well, you’re already doing a bad job by decanting the white,’ Uncle Paddy scoffs.
I glance at my mum, sensing her eyes are already on me.
She subtly mouths at me: ‘That one is a vase.’
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead I just nod, to show her that I know. I did have my suspicions about the unconventional decanter when I spotted it in the cupboard, but in times like these, beggars can’t be choosers.
With crisis averted for now, we all tuck into our food, and I allow myself to relax a little. It’s all going fine, until Auntie Mary pipes up.
‘So, your plans for your real Christmas,’ she starts. I think it’s a question, or a prompt at least.
‘It’s the first year we’ll be getting our families together,’ I say. ‘I’m looking forward to it, all of us, in beautiful Scotland.’
‘Not all your family,’ Auntie Mary points out. ‘And Tally will be with you.’
‘You bet Tally will be there with us,’ Millsy adds. He always stays in character when Tally is in the room.
‘Millsy, I thought your normal voice was irritating enough but that accent is like nails on a chalkboard,’ Tommy complains, trying to make it sound like it’s just banter, but isn’t that what they all say? ‘I can’t imagine lowering myself to doing that, by playing the fool like that. No job is worth it.’
‘Tommy, if you saw what they’re paying me, you’d soon change your tune,’ Millsy replies.
Millsy is never one to brag but, sort of like me, he knows there’s only one way to handle this lot sometimes, and that’s to fight fire with even more fire.
‘Joe, I will have you know that Tommy makes a very respectable living as a plumber,’ Flora chimes in, defending her man in an argument that he started.
‘Yeah, and it’s honest work – real work,’ Tommy insists. ‘I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.’
I’m sure there’s an easy joke to make there, with Tommy putting his hands in toilets on the regular, but that’s not my style.
‘Oh, it’s going to be a sorry, quiet New Year’s Eve with all of you being away in Scotland,’ Auntie Mary persists. ‘And taking my mum away from me too.’
The look on my gran’s face is priceless.
‘Well, Mary, you did spend last year’s New Year’s Eve in Iceland with Paddy’s family,’ my gran dares to remind her. ‘I think you’ll be okay.’
‘Yes, but that was only because Paddy’s family paid for it,’ Auntie Mary replies defensively.
Okay, well, if it was free that’s fine then, obviously.
‘Ah, it’s no big deal,’ Uncle Paddy chimes in. ‘I once spent Christmas without my family, when I was a kid.’
‘Really?’ Tally blurts.
Wow, I never knew that.
‘Yeah, well, I actually wasn’t supposed to,’ Paddy says. ‘It was this one year when we were supposed to be going on holiday.’
Tally is gripped. So am I until… oh, for God’s sake.
‘But they actually left without me,’ he continues. ‘It wouldn’t have been so bad, but there was quite a bit of crime in the area at the time. Still, I held my own, and did a good job looking after myself.’
He’s doing Home Alone. He’s actually doing Home Alone. It’s festive, I suppose. Millsy and I exchange a sneaky side-eye. We always think it’s so funny that Uncle Paddy tries to pass well-known movies off as his own personal anecdotes.
I get the feeling that Auntie Mary is angling for an invitation to join us in Scotland for New Year’s Eve and, as easy as it would be to invite them all, I just can’t face it. It’s going to be hard enough, with everything Millsy and I have going on, and our families essentially taking their first trip together. Imagine throwing Auntie Mary, Uncle Paddy, Flora, Tommy and the kids into the mix. It would be a nightmare. I keep my mouth shut.
‘Joe, more wine, if you please,’ Paddy demands, waggling his empty glass in Millsy’s direction.
I look to my mum and she gives me a look that suggests she can tell Auntie Mary is angling for an invitation too. God, I can’t even think about that right now.
I’ll say one thing, the food is amazing, Mum has done a really good job. Everyone is getting stuck in, clearing their plates, and then going in for even more.
‘Is everyone enjoying the wine?’ Uncle Paddy asks.
Everyone who is drinking it replies politely to say yes.
‘Can you tell anything different about it, though?’ he asks.
My heart races. Does he know? How could he know? I glance at Millsy and we exchange a brief look of recognition. I don’t think either of us were expecting him to say that.
‘Erm, no,’ my mum replies. ‘It’s very lovely, though.’
‘Let me tell you something about this wine,’ Paddy starts, pausing suspensefully. ‘It’s special, my friend sells it, and what’s special about it is that it is completely alcohol-free.’
Millsy almost chokes on the sip of water he was taking, his eyes widening in astonishment.
‘Alcohol-free?’ I repeat back to him.
‘Alcohol-free,’ Paddy confirms proudly. ‘Which means no hangovers and that I can drive home later without a worry.’
Millsy and I exchange another glance. Oh, God, this is bad.
‘That’s funny,’ my mum says. ‘It must be a placebo effect or something, because I’ve actually been feeling a buzz from it.’
I mean, of course she has, Millsy has been serving her real wine this whole time.
‘Garçon,’ Paddy calls out to Millsy, and he certainly sounds like he’s had as much wine as he has had. ‘Top me up, will you, garçon.’
‘Yep, coming right up,’ Millsy says.
Well, there’s no point in stopping now, is there? The damage is already done. Uncle Paddy thinks he’s safe to drive home, and will probably be wanting to leave soon after dessert, and he’s got to be way over the limit by now.
We’re just going to have to think of something, some way to stop him driving, otherwise we’re going to have to come clean and, after everything we’ve been through, I can’t face the bollocking today.
‘I’m going to get another drink,’ I say, standing up, following Millsy into the kitchen.
We’ll just have to come up with something, that’s all. Something, anything…
Oh, God.
17
It turns out that, when you’re an actor, you can get away with just about anything if you say you’re preparing for a role. Oh, and it didn’t hurt that Uncle Paddy and Auntie Mary were so drunk that they would have believed just about anything, including the tall tale that the sommelier Millsy is supposedly going to be playing is also a part-time limo driver, so could he please, please give them a lift home – all for the sake of the role.
It was quite funny really, watching him running around, opening doors for them, fully committed to the bit, and now it’s just me and him, in the car alone together, about to head back to my mum’s house to collect Tally.
‘Do you fancy a Maccies milkshake?’ he asks me.
I wasn’t expecting him to say that.
‘I would love one,’ I reply.
‘Quick detour then,’ he says, turning the car around.
There’s a McDonald’s in town, not too far away, so a cheeky drive-thru won’t add long to our journey. Anyway, I left Tally chatting away with my dad, trying to teach him how to smooth some of the Yorkshire out of his accent. Good luck to her – even his sneezes have a Yorkshire twang.
‘Vanilla?’ Millsy checks.
‘Yes, please,’ I reply.
He orders our drinks. A vanilla milkshake for me and a strawberry one for him. Then we head back on our way.
‘Today was fun,’ he says simply.
‘They’re always fun,’ I reply. ‘We just create our own chaotic brand of fun wherever we go, don’t we?’
I say this almost sarcastically.
‘We really do,’ he replies. ‘Personal highlight?’
‘I mean, having sex in a Christmas grotto made for children while we’re dressed as Santa Claus and an elf has to be a new low,’ I point out. ‘But, as for a high, hmm. I really loved seeing you throw together a gender reveal balloon with nothing but a white balloon, a black marker pen and the air from your lungs.’
Something he only had to do because I let the actual baby-blue helium-filled gender reveal balloon out of the box early, thinking it was the cake.
‘A classic,’ he chuckles. ‘For me, and I mean this honestly when I said I found it genuinely impressive, was the time I set my gran’s kitchen on fire and accidentally let her dog out, only for him to swim to the island in the loch. The way you managed to open that boathouse padlock without knowing the code – I still don’t understand how you did it.’
‘It’s my job,’ I say with a laugh. ‘Aww, Dougie, bless him. I miss him.’
‘Me too,’ Millsy says. ‘It’s going to be strange, going to my gran’s this year, and him not being there for the first time.’
We fall silent for a second, as a sad mood takes over, and I don’t think it’s just because of Dougie the dog passing away (thankfully peacefully, after a long and happy life), but because he’s not the only thing we’re going to miss. Chatting about our scrapes, about the good old days, it only reminds me of what I’m not going to have any more. Sure, the scrapes are exhausting, but it’s our thing. Who am I without them? Without Millsy?
Millsy exhales heavily as we pull up at some traffic lights.
‘You know, they say on a clear night, if you look in the right direction, you can see Iceland from here,’ he tells me.
I furrow my brow.
‘Really?’ I squeak.
‘Yep, there you go,’ he says, pointing down the road, towards the supermarket.
‘Oh, har-har,’ I reply, smiling again.
‘Just thought I’d lighten the mood,’ he says before slurping his drink. ‘Listen, whatever we have going on, we always get away with it, right?’
‘Right,’ I reply.
Although this time, pretending we’re not together any more, I don’t know. I don’t really want to get away with this one.
18
The air at the Christmas market is so thick with festive cheer it’s almost impossible to take it all in.
A net of vibrant twinkling lights hangs above where I’m walking, casting a warm glow over everything below. Festive smells like cinnamon and roasted chestnuts waft through the air, enveloping everyone around, giving us all that same seasonal high. For me, though, it’s not quite hitting, not like it usually does.
I find myself drawn to the carousel, its beautiful colourful horses spinning in calming circles, bringing joy to the children (actually, it looks like mostly adults) riding atop them. Laughter echoes in my ears, making me feel happy and sad at the same time. I usually love it here, with the array of charming stalls, offering handmade crafts, sparkling ornaments, and irresistible sweet treats. Visiting all the Christmas markets in the area is something we do every year, it usually makes me so happy. But that’s the problem, it’s something we do every year, Millsy and me. Doing it alone just doesn’t feel right.
Amidst the sea of smiling faces, families hand in hand, and couples lost in each other’s company, I can’t help but feel a pang of emptiness, even though I’m not going to be here alone.
I know what you’re thinking: will I ever learn? Well, I’m trying to, but I would be crazy to give up on dating altogether, just because Matcher turned out to be a shitshow again. I am trying to remain hopeful, and open, and not resign myself to sobbing over romcom movies while I eat a whole tub of ice-cream and think about how single I am – there’s plenty of time to do that later.
No more Matcher, though, I promise. Instead I took Charlie’s advice and set myself up on Love @ First Site – a cringeworthy name if ever I heard one, but perhaps cringe is what I need, instead of another hook-up app with a contemporary name.
Love @ First Site reckons that, if you fill in one of their lengthy quizzes, with all the details you can think of, that they can set you up with your perfect match. So I filled the thing in, with as much information about myself as possible, and despite it saying that sometimes it can take time to find a perfect match, it came up with one for me almost right away. Too good to be true or just the thing I need right now? Well, when it threw me in an anonymous chat with my supposed Mr Right, I thought screw it, let’s do this. I could sit and chat with an avatar for God knows how long, only to be disappointed at a later date, or we could just get this over with, meet up, see if this site is legit or just another gimmick.
