‘Actually, Amy has been telling me about your egg nog on the way over here. I confess I’ve never had egg nog before.’
‘Comin’ right up,’ said Nick, smiling.
Amy gave Georgia a sideways smile. The older woman certainly knew which of her dad’s buttons to press.
‘Come through and meet everyone,’ said Connie. In short succession Georgia was introduced to Amy’s brother Billy, his wife Helen and their three children Candice, Billy Jr and baby Gretel, as well as Uncle Chuck, who seemed to be reasonably sober and immediately took a shine to Georgia, hovering over her, passing her nibbles and refilling her glass as soon as she took a sip. Amy sat back and watched, so happy to see her family again, but also happy to see them welcome her friend so warmly. She had only been away for a little over two years, but it had felt like decades. Too long.
Finally Connie clapped her hands to summon them all through to the tiny dining room.
‘Family tradition, Georgia. We have a big ham on Christmas Eve. It leaves us too stuffed for turkey the next day, but hey, you got to start Christmas as soon as possible, then keep it going for as long as you can. Those have always been the rules in this house.’
‘So long as we’re not having goose tomorrow,’ grumbled Uncle Chuck. ‘Should have seen the size of the thing. It was like a goddam pigeon.’
Everyone sat down, arguing over the merits of turkey versus goose, ten of them crammed around a table that could really only comfortably seat six, but their elbow-to-elbow proximity only added to the feeling of togetherness.
‘So why hasn’t Dan the Man come?’ asked Billy, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his stomach, his blue shirt straining at the buttons. ‘I want to meet your fancy English guy finally.’
‘We both wanted to be with our families over the holidays,’ Amy replied, wondering what Daniel was doing at this moment. She imagined him in the family home, a honey-stone manor house straight out of a Jane Austen novel. She had been there only once and had felt on edge all the time, not wanting to ruin the perfect picture by actually sitting down anywhere. She pictured him sitting at the formal dining table, cutting into his quail or whatever fancy British families ate at Christmas, making strained conversation with Vivienne, planning with his father to conquer the world. Well, he had made his choice – made his bed, as her friend Annie liked to say. Now he had to lie in it.
‘Say, Candice. How’s the ballet coming along?’ she asked her seven-year-old niece, wanting to change the subject.
‘I love it,’ she grinned with a gap-toothed smile.
Billy’s wife Helen bounced baby Gretel up and down on her lap.
‘She wanted to see some real ballet, so I took her to the Lincoln Center, saved up for months for those tickets, and she got so damn bored we had to leave after twenty minutes.’
Candice made a face and pushed some potatoes into her mouth.
‘Still, she wants to be a ballet dancer when she grows up. I told her she gotta keep practising, keep it up if she wants to be like her auntie Amy.’
Amy smiled hard, deciding this was not the right time to tell Candice about the pain and the constant rejection and the fact there was a good chance your boyfriend’s parents might think you were a slut. Best to let a little girl have her dreams. After all, she had been the same as a student at Miss Josephine’s dance academy on Quebec Street, the school that Candice now went to. She still kept in touch with Miss Josephine, who had been like a sec
ond mom to her growing up. When she’d moved to England they had swapped regular letters and emails, but these had dwindled as Amy grew more and more embarrassed about the state of her career. She wanted Miss Josephine to think she had produced at least one star.
Nick Carrell topped up Georgia’s glass.
‘So, Amy tells me you have a great apartment. It’s like worth a million bucks or somethin’?’
‘I did not!’ gasped Amy.
‘You told your mom it looked like a duchess’ house in some swanky part of town,’ said her father, looking offended.
‘I suppose Primrose Hill is rather lovely,’ smiled Georgia. ‘I bought at the right time. The nearest thing London has to a village, and yet when you climb to the top of the hill it’s all there before you. The BT Tower, the London Eye, St Paul’s.’
‘Have you got family, Georgia?’ asked Connie politely. Amy noticed her friend stiffen.
‘Yes, but I don’t see them very often. They live out in the countryside.’
‘What are they up to back home in England?’
‘Uncle Chuck . . .’ said Amy with a warning tone.
‘No, it’s fine,’ said Georgia. ‘I suppose they’ll be doing much the same as here. Having a party, eating and drinking too much. Won’t be anywhere near as much fun as here, though. And this food’s much better.’
Amy saw her mother’s proud smile.
‘You gotta watch the British,’ said Chuck, waving a finger. ‘Poor teeth, poor food. To think you’re going to marry into that!’