The Faking Game, page 21
It seems almost sarcastic, as a symphony of colours surrounds me, like I’m in a kaleidoscope – just, you know, a nightmare version of one. Even the most beautiful things can seem scary in a nightmare.
I pass a magical waterfall, where cascades of light tumble down the rocks, creating an illusion of liquid light. Next, I walk through a tunnel of stars, which is like a gateway to another dimension, except when I pop out of the other side I’m still just in our shitty real world. Finally, I come to a light maze. Now this seems like the perfect place to get lost, even if it’s only for a few minutes, and then I’ll go to find my family and stick with them for the rest of the night – for the rest of the trip, even. Ergh, I feel like a character in some tragic Christmas movie, destined to be alone with a big bottle of wine and a box of tissues.
I make my way around the twists and turns of the maze, trying to find a way through, trying my best to enjoy the lights while I’m here. I turn a corner, only to find myself at a dead end, but it’s not a completely dead end. Jay is there, smoking a cigarette.
‘Shh, don’t tell anyone,’ he says with a cheeky smile. Then he notices the look on my face. ‘Are you okay? You look like you just found out there’s no Santa.’
I bounce my bottom lip theatrically.
‘There’s no Santa?’ I reply.
He laughs.
‘What’s up, though?’ Jay asks, with genuine care in his voice.
Why is it that, the second someone asks if you’re okay, you cease to be outwardly okay all at once?
‘I just had a bit of a run-in with Tally, that’s all,’ I tell him. ‘She’s… yeah, I don’t know. She’s something. Getting in the way, mostly.’
Jay raises an eyebrow, a look of concern in his eyes.
‘Is something going on between Millsy and Tally?’ he asks me. ‘I know, he’s Mr Perfect these days, but I remember the Millsy of old – the Millsy before you. If he’s… y’know.’
I hesitate for a moment, the truth hovering on the tip of my tongue, but then I shake my head, trying to convince myself as much as Jay.
‘No, nothing, nothing like that,’ I insist. ‘It’s just… it’s complicated.’
‘I know complicated,’ he replies. Then he turns on his smile and his charm. ‘But you clearly don’t want to talk about it, and that’s fine, but you have to smile. You have to have fun here. They might kick you out, if you look miserable.’
I laugh a little.
‘If they’re not going to kick you out for smoking, they’re not going to kick me out for frowning,’ I point out. ‘But thanks for trying.’
‘Well, if threats won’t make you smile, then perhaps this will,’ he says. He drops his cigarette to the floor and stamps it out, then he leans in to talk to me – not that there’s anyone around, not for long, it’s quickly obvious this is a dead end, and everyone is having too much fun to worry about what we’re doing.
‘I can’t believe I’m telling you this,’ he says as he unfastens his coat. ‘And I definitely can’t believe I’m showing you, but look… As I was stepping down from the coach, I don’t know what happened, but I’ve split my trousers right down the arse.’
Jay turns his hips to show me his bum and, sure enough, they’ve torn open right on the bum, his boxers peeking out from inside.
I don’t know what I was expecting him to say or do to cheer me up – not this, though. Perhaps that’s why it’s so effective.
I burst into uncontrollable laughter, the sound echoing through the maze. My smile returns, if only for a moment, and I’m grateful for Jay’s attempt to cheer me up, even at the cost of his own pride which, believe me, he takes very seriously.
‘But you can’t tell anyone,’ he adds as he fastens his coat again. He smiles, but I can tell he feels a little embarrassed to have shown me. That’s actually really sweet.
But as quickly as the laughter comes, the tears are not far behind. I blend seamlessly from laughing wildly to sobbing like a baby, almost as though letting one emotion out of the door has allowed another to sneak out with it.
Without thinking, Jay grabs me and holds me close, comforting me, patting me lightly on the back in a reassuring way.
‘It’s all going to be okay,’ he promises me.
It’s only as he’s hugging me that I realise how much I need this right now. I squeeze him tightly, like he’s a human stress toy, as I wait for my emotions to let up.
Eventually, I stop squeezing him and he loosens his embrace, allowing me to stand back in his arms. Then, without warning, Jay leans in for a kiss, and I recoil instinctively. His lips barely graze mine before I shove him away, a rush of anger making my face feel boiling hot suddenly, and the mother of all stress headaches kicking in.
‘You’re unbelievable, Jay!’ I snap, wiping away the remaining tears. I turn on my heel, heading back into the depths of the maze, trying to find a way out. I wipe my lips with the back of my hand – he barely touched them, but I feel like I can taste cigarettes. My God, what was he thinking, trying to kiss me? Why would he think that was okay?
I pop out of the maze and continue on my way. My plan is to find Oliver and stick with him – in fact, I might even see if I can sleep on the sofa in the guest house tonight, because I don’t want to be around Millsy or Jay or Tally. As I navigate through the forest, my heartache makes way for anger. Millsy and his entire bloody family are nothing but a pain in my arse. Maybe, once Christmas is over, I really am better off without them. The thought lingers in my mind for a minute. Is that really what I want?
By the time I catch up with Oliver, I realise Millsy is still with him. I wipe away any signs that I’ve been crying before I reach them.
‘We thought we’d lost you,’ Millsy says with a smile. He reaches out to take my hand but I quickly whip it back. Oliver notices, and makes himself scarce.
‘What’s wrong?’ Millsy asks.
‘I don’t want to hold your hand,’ I tell him. ‘In fact, I don’t want anything from you.’
‘But I thought we were going to—’
‘This, all of this, it needs to stop,’ I interrupt him. ‘We broke up, I don’t know why we’re messing around like this, but it needs to stop.’
‘Sure,’ he says simply. ‘Sorry.’
I hurry after Oliver, who doesn’t know he’s my bodyguard yet, but who I know will happily take the role.
Is this what I want? I’m not sure it matters what I want any more. When things are this messy, and this far gone, perhaps love isn’t enough. Maybe it’s time I really did try to move on.
28
I woke up this morning – Christmas morning – briefly confused until I remembered I was in Oliver’s bed in the guest house. He slept on the sofa last night, because even though I didn’t tell him exactly what went on, he used his sibling intuition to recognise that I really needed some space from Millsy. He simply went along with it, sacrificing his own comfort for mine, because he is amazing. I’m so lucky to have him and, when he finally takes his eyes off his work, whoever has him in the future will be lucky to have him too. We need more Olivers in the world.
To the rest of the family, I effortlessly styled it out as if spending Christmas Eve with my own family and waking up under the same roof as them was some spontaneous cute idea I had, so my presence in the guest house hasn’t raised any alarm, I don’t think.
The guest house, a delightful holiday rental in the grounds of Iona’s house, is so cool and modern. It boasts three bedrooms, each adorned with tasteful furnishings, and the place is all decked out for Christmas, which is a nice touch. The beds are comfortable, the bathrooms shiny and pristine, and the living area provides a cosy sanctuary for relaxation – perhaps I should have pushed to stay in here from the start.
As the plans for today evolved, we agreed that each family would exchange gifts within their own spaces before convening in the main house. It seemed like a sensible idea at the time, ensuring that everyone had their moment of unwrapping joy before coming together as one big, bizarre, blended-ish family unit. For me, it just meant that I could enjoy Christmas morning with my own family, and try not to think about all the chaos awaiting me next door.
With the exchange of gifts complete between my immediate family members, we make our way across to the main house, dragging bags of presents with us, Santa style. Everyone seems so excited, except me, and I feel guilty for feeling so rotten, but at least I’m sticking to the script.
As we step into the lounge, I can just about make everyone out in the sea of crumpled wrapping paper. The room is in a state of joyful disarray, but full of smiling faces and good cheer. Iona is already on the sherry, which makes me smile.
From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Jay, looking shifty as ever. It would seem that he’s kept what he did – or tried to do – to himself, and I certainly don’t plan on telling anyone, so perhaps that’s for the best. He’d do well to stay out of my way today, though.
Next, I notice Tally, the other thorn in my side, sitting with Mhairi, a smug smile firmly plastered on her face as she greets me. Her feet are planted comfortably under the table – in multiple respects – as she assists Mhairi with a jigsaw puzzle. Oh, how lovely for her. I should have known she would be just Mhairi’s type – I always felt like she didn’t think I was quite the right girl for this family. Perhaps I was right.
As my lot settle into the room, everyone chats, about the day, what presents they’ve got so far – anything and everything.
‘We need to tidy up and get ready for dinner soon,’ Mhairi calls out. She is always the mastermind behind family logistics. ‘Time to unwrap the last of the gifts, everyone!’
‘Merry Christmas, Cara,’ Millsy tells me.
‘Merry Christmas,’ I reply.
We hug, awkwardly for us, but hopefully no one notices.
‘Come on, you two, swap gifts,’ Iona urges us.
‘Yes, you two always get each other the best presents,’ my gran adds. ‘It’s one of the highlights of the day.’
I chew my lip thoughtfully.
‘Of course,’ Millsy says. ‘Here you go.’
He presents me with a box wrapped in snowman paper. I hand him a small box, wrapped in gold paper, with a fancy ribbon and bow job.
‘You first,’ I insist.
Millsy nods as he unwraps his gift. He looks at the small blue leather box underneath the paper before he opens it. Inside there’s an aged guitar plectrum with what is hopefully an unmistakable marker pen scribble on it.
‘Is it…’ Millsy’s voice trails off, almost as though he can’t quite believe what he’s holding.
‘It is,’ I reply. ‘It’s a signed Billy Gill plectrum – one of his own. I thought that it might bring you close to him, if you had something of his.’
Millsy looks stunned.
‘Cara that’s just… wow… I just…’ He stands up and leans over to hug me again, like he means it this time. ‘This is incredible, thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ I say, with a subdued smile. I’ve never been great at taking praise, but I revel in Millsy’s reaction. I bought this for him ages ago, and it’s not like I have any use for it, or I can return it. Anyway, I know it will help him, so he should have it.
I begin to unwrap my gift from Millsy. I’m almost in there when he pulls his attention from his plectrum and realises what I’m doing. His face falls, which is odd.
It’s hard not to feel a flutter of anticipation, like I always have when I’m unwrapping a gift from Millsy, but as I peel away the wrapping paper, my heart sinks.
‘It’s… ah.’
I stop myself from announcing it, while I take it in, making sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me.
‘What is it?’ Iona asks sweetly, peering over to try to see.
‘Chocolates,’ I tell her.
And not just any chocolates – and I don’t mean this in a good way – chocolates that we saw in a gift shop in Aviemore. I remember casually saying they looked nice, in a really casual way, and I know it’s the same ones because they’re in a frigging tartan box.
‘Chocolates?’ Iona calls back, surprised.
‘Ah, but what’s inside the box?’ my gran asks with a smile, thinking she knows Millsy better than this.
‘Erm, chocolates, I’d imagine,’ I reply simply. ‘The plastic is still on the box.’
‘Oof,’ Jay blurts. ‘Awkward.’
Mhairi takes charge of the situation instantly.
‘Millsy, why don’t you tidy up the wrapping paper?’ she suggests. ‘Dinner isn’t that far away.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ he replies.
‘Well, I think we all know who won that one,’ Rod says with a chuckle.
As Millsy gathers the crumpled paper, I sink into my seat, more sad than I am embarrassed. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, a present is a present, but is this it? A box of chocolates that he bought yesterday, that’s my present, after three years together, when we’re still pretending to be a couple?
Of all the signs that we are over, this one has to well and truly be it. What a crap, heartbreakingly thoughtless gift.
This whole thing needs to be over now, but we’ve got dinner to look forward to first. Yay!
29
The aroma of Mhairi’s meticulously prepared Christmas dinner fills the air, mingling with the laughter and conversation around the table. The food looks and tastes impressive – roast turkey, honey-glazed ham, roasted vegetables, creamy mashed potatoes, and all the delicious trimmings including Yorkshire puddings, to make us all feel at home. It’s undoubtedly delicious, although I can’t help but compare it to the one my mum made for us last week, which was like a personalised version of a Christmas dinner, everything made exactly the way I liked it. It was nothing short of perfect. But everyone feels that way about their mum’s cooking, don’t they?
We’re all sitting together, across the two tables which have been pushed together to make one big table. One big table for one big family – one big family that won’t exist in the new year. It’s a shame, because we all get on so well. Sure, Mhairi might be a bit grumpy sometimes, and I’m not sure our grandmas can always tell what the other is saying, but I never thought I would have such lovely in-laws (for lack of a better term for them).
Mid-bite, Iona suddenly coughs, a tickle in her throat that catches everyone’s attention.
‘Are you okay, Mum?’ Mhairi asks. ‘Let me fill everyone’s water glass.’
‘Fill everyone’s wine glass,’ Rod jokes. ‘No one wants water, it’s Christmas.’
Mhairi fills our water glasses, like the perfect host she is, before taking her seat and continuing her dinner.
The crackers have been pulled, we’re all wearing our dorky hats, the jokes have been told. All that’s left to do is eat and chat.
Rod, always one to stir up conversation, brings up the topic of New Year’s resolutions.
‘I know it’s early, but is anyone making them?’ he asks.
‘If you were going to make one, perhaps it should be to live more in the moment,’ Mhairi tells him. ‘Christmas isn’t even over yet.’
‘Christmas isn’t that big a thing in Scotland,’ Iona chimes in. ‘It wasn’t even a bank holiday when I was younger. Hogmanay is when we celebrate.’
‘Well, I wish Ted would make a new year’s resolution, to make an effort to think ahead like that,’ my mum jokes. ‘Further ahead than what’s for dinner will do.’
‘What is for dinner?’ my dad asks, his comedy timing perfect.
Everyone laughs.
And then, without skipping a beat, and because I’m feeling spicy, I take this as my opportunity to talk to Millsy.
‘Any resolutions for you, Millsy?’ I ask, my eyes playfully narrowing. I still can’t shake the disappointment of the lacklustre gift from earlier.
‘Buy better presents?’ Rod jumps in, reading my mind. Everyone laughs, dispelling a little of the tension from when he gave it to me. Everyone but Millsy, of course. And Jay.
‘I think we all wish Millsy’s resolution would be to shut up,’ Jay suggests as he swigs his beer.
The sudden shift in tone catches everyone off guard. Everyone stares at him.
‘Okay, Jay, you’ve made your point,’ Mhairi tells him, trying to pour water on the ever-growing flames.
‘I think it’s a lovely accent,’ Iona insists. She seems a little upset by the way the conversation is going.
Millsy, never one to back down when it comes to Jay, laughs to himself.
‘Perhaps you would prefer my voice if I sounded like a middle-aged woman with an inheritance burning a hole in her pocket?’ he suggests.
Ouch.
‘Because your love life is so perfect,’ Jay says with a snigger, making it obvious that he knows something.
He definitely has Millsy’s attention now. Millsy looks over at me, almost accusingly, so I jump to my own defence.
‘I haven’t said anything to him about anything,’ I insist confidently, because I know that I haven’t.
‘No, she didn’t tell me a thing,’ Jay replies casually. ‘But seeing her profile on Matcher told me everything I needed to know.’
My jaw drops.
‘You didn’t match with me, though,’ Jay says to me directly, pouting playfully, draining another beer.
Wait, what? I deleted Matcher, after my disastrous date with Liam. Unless… oh, shit. I didn’t technically delete it, I uninstalled the app in a disappointed huff, I didn’t think to deactivate my profile before I did so. That means that my profile has been served up to the locals wherever I’ve been. So Jay, who I guess uses Matcher (shock, horror) has seen me on there while we’ve been here.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask Jay angrily.
The genie is well and truly out of the bottle now. Breaking out another box of crackers isn’t going to turn this conversation around.
‘What are you doing on Matcher?’ he retorts.
‘What is Matcher?’ Iona asks.
