Chapter Five

Lisa stared at her iPad, waiting for her mum to answer. FaceTiming her parents had become a twice-weekly ritual, though with her in the family home and them away in France, where they spent at least six months of the year since taking early retirement, she felt more like the parent than the child in the situation. Finally her mum picked up.

‘Hi, darling, we can’t chat long tonight; there’s a festival in town.’

‘Really, you’re going to a festival?’

‘It’s a bit of a do to mark the end of the summer hols, la rentrée as the French say. There’s a parade through the village to welcome the autumn and then a party at the lake.’

‘Really! And you’re going, just the two of you?’ Lisa knew she sounded dismayed and stopped herself. Just because she was facing another Saturday night alone in front of the television didn’t mean she should resent her parents having a good time.

Lisa’s mum laughed. ‘It’s about the community and fitting in. For the village, you know.’

Lisa sighed; it seemed everybody was living life more fully than her and she felt like she had forgotten how.

‘By the way, talking of festivities, did you know Luke’s joining us for Christmas?’

Lisa felt a bubble of joy swell in her chest. Having her brother home for Christmas would be great. She hadn’t relished the thought of being home alone with her parents. Not in a bad way, it’s just after leaving home and having Christmases in London with Ben – with the lights and amazing window displays in Oxford Street, enjoying the rides and bars at the Hyde Park Winter Wonderland, partying until late before returning in the early hours to the flat they had shared – returning for turkey, cracker charades and the Queen’s speech with her mum and dad wearing coloured paper crowns at jaunty angles, felt like a step backwards.

‘That’s great, when’s his flight?’ Lisa thought she might meet him at the airport to make up for missing waving him off when he left for Australia.

‘I’m not sure exactly. He’s planning to be here early December, in plenty of time to help us pick a tree.’

‘Pick a tree! Mum, what happened to Bing?’ Lisa felt shocked. Bing was the ugliest artificial tree she had ever seen, but he came out every year like an aged member of the family. She had decorated him in red and gold to the deep, rumbling tones of ‘White Christmas’ every year as a child.

‘Bing! Don’t get me started on that old thing.’ Lisa’s mum rolled her eyes; the tree was a gift from her mother-in-law soon after she was married, displaying it was an annual obligation she had begrudged. ‘It’s safe to say Bing is not coming here, oh no. You can’t do artificial in a pine chalet in the snow, my darling. A real tree, roaring fire, an after dinner ski and a soak in the hot tub with a view of the Alps, that’s Christmas for me this year!’ Lisa’s mum punched the air, as if she had won some long-awaited victory.

‘What? Won’t you be … coming home for Christmas?’

‘We’ll be here, Lisa. I told you that when you said you were moving back … don’t you remember?’

Lisa thought about it, no, she didn’t remember that at all. But, then again, she had only really been focused on getting away from London when she had called her mum. Tears welled in her eyes. She hadn’t realised quite how much she needed the reassurance of all those silly rituals she had thought she was dreading until they were suddenly being taken away from her too. The thought of no Ben caused an ache in her chest – even if he had been a git – adding to the fact that now there would be no Bing, cracker charades or paper hats suddenly made her feel bereft.

‘But you can come too, Lisa. We want you to join us. Come on, darling … don’t sulk.’

‘I’m not sulking, Mum.’ Lisa unfolded her arms.

‘Luke might bring his girlfriend. You can meet her.’

Lisa’s bubble felt well and truly deflated. Staying in England would mean she would be Benless, flatless and familyless for Christmas, and going to France meant she would be the only one without a partner – the only one well and truly célibataire! She felt the last of her Christmas spirit fizzle away like the alcohol on a well-lit Christmas pudding. She imagined the empty chair next to her at the table and sighed. Almost thirty, single and Christmas in France! Really! ‘I just thought we’d all … be together … at home this year, Mum.’

‘Oh, Lisa, you haven’t been home for Christmas for so long. And with you gone and Luke in Australia, it just wasn’t the same. We only stayed in England these past years for your Granny Blake. But since she’s passed now, your dad and me, well, we just thought it was our time to do something … something different. You know.’ Lisa’s mum gestured to her husband for reinforcement, who it seemed had been listening just out of vision of the screen.

‘For us, Lisa, you understand.’ Her dad placed his hand on her mum’s shoulder.

‘Come on, darling, come and join us. We’d love to see you and you never know you might enjoy it here; everyone’s so friendly and there’s a view you’ll never tire of.’

Clearly spending Christmas at home wasn’t up for discussion. As her parents waved their goodbyes with reassurances that it would all work out fine, the room fell silent. Lisa dropped her iPad onto the sofa, thankful that Christmas was still three months away. Maybe things would be different by then. Maybe she wouldn’t be alone, maybe Ben would … Do what? Lisa wasn’t sure what Ben could do to make things right now.

Shaking all thoughts of Ben away, Lisa reached for the remote control. Browsing her viewing options she wasn’t sure she had enough energy to face the Strictly and X Factor marathon without at least a glass, or maybe a bottle, of wine. Checking her watch, she decided she had time to head to the supermarket for a few essentials before she settled in for the evening.

Grabbing a basket Lisa glanced at her list and wondered where she might find the items she was after. ‘Wine, Maltesers, headache stuff, coffee, hmm.’ She had spent most of the past three months consuming the contents of her mum’s cupboards, freezer and wine rack, only shopping for a few bits here and there as she needed them. She had also befriended Mr Chung, the elderly gentleman serving in the Chinese takeaway en route from Winnie’s to home. Lisa wasn’t sure if he actually spoke much English beyond what was written on the menu, but he always smiled politely and nodded while she spoke about her day as she waited for her order. After waffling to Winnie and a chat to Mr Chung, she often went home feeling free of the baggage of the day. Even if reflecting on that fact frequently made her feel like she desperately needed to find some friends her own age!

Despite it being several weeks away, Halloween had hit the front of the shop big style. Lisa thought it was funny; when she was little she could barely remember marking it. Now there were costumes galore on sale for all ages and more plastic-pumpkin-and-ghost-type tat than she could ever have imagined. Even little jam-filled teacakes had become vampire bites! Reminding herself she didn’t have time to get distracted looking at it all if she was still going to fit in her Saturday night viewing marathon on catch-up, she attempted to walk away. But as she passed the adult costumes the baby section caught her eye. There was an array of cute sleep suits, T-shirts and bibs with apt Halloween slogans written across them. Stroking her hand across the ‘Mummy’s little pumpkin’, ‘I’m a screamer’ and ‘Halloween scares the poop out of me’ bodysuits, Lisa gave a small smile. Rubbing away the ache in her chest, she decided to head for the wine aisle at the far end of the shop.

Glancing up at the large signs hanging above each aisle, she spotted the medicine section. Having already decided she was going to need something for the post-wine headache she was anticipating in the morning, she took a detour down it. She knew she would be unable to sleep it off. Especially as she had to be up and looking human by eight o’clock in the morning to feed three cats and a rabbit, whose lucky owners were having a ‘naughty weekend’ in Bath – a detail she could have done without as she took the booking.

Sidestepping along the aisle, reading each label in search of whatever would be cheap and effective, Lisa could smell something odd. It was unpleasant. It was … oh hell, it was sick. The woman standing next to her smelt of sick, or at least sick mixed with a sweet, fruit cocktail of other scents. If she had attempted to spray something to mask the smell it hadn’t worked. She smelt awful and though she didn’t like to look too closely, Lisa was sure she could see a few pieces of carrot stuck in her hair. Trying to grab her tablets and move away as quickly as possible without heaving, Lisa knocked down an entire display of paracetamol. ‘Bugger!’ She couldn’t just leave the packets scattered across the floor so she began picking them up. Attempting not to inhale while scooping them she could only achieve something akin to the dexterity of a clown wearing boxing gloves.

‘Here, let me help.’ Joining Lisa on the floor, the woman moved closer and so did the smell.

Lifting her head slightly as she scampered about on her knees, Lisa couldn’t help but notice the woman’s huge cleavage as her coat gaped open revealing ample flesh bulging over a too small chemise. Bloody hell! Noting the fact the woman had come out with regurgitated food in her hair, smelling of sick and wearing some kind of purple-and-black silk number under a duffle coat, Lisa decided it would be best to keep her distance. She wanted to get away from the woman as quickly and politely as possible. Attempting to not inhale, Lisa stood. Cradling the packets she had gathered awkwardly, she looked at the woman’s face for the first time. About to thank her Lisa gasped, dropping all the packets back to the floor.

‘F- F- Felicity!’ was all Lisa could manage. She couldn’t believe it. It was definitely her, Felicity Forster! Older, slightly rounder, dressed very strangely, definitely emitting an awful smell and standing right there, larger than life, before her in the medicines’ aisle of Tesco. In all the years she had imagined seeing Felicity again she never dreamt it would happen like this.