Guess that wasn’t for our eyes only then – must remember that next time I do that zero neck pose. What would Si reply with? I’d never seen a funny selfie from him ever. He was all broody looks and captions that made no sense. Still, at least he posted on social. I would never. Too much risk of my old life getting jumbled up with this one.
“He’s anniversary shopping, isn’t he…” Grace zoomed in and out on his picture with a soppy grin. She’d booked a posh meal for them and had been counting down to it for weeks. Around fifty-two of them. “I was just going to wear my gold dress, but if he’s looking like that, I’m going to have to step it up.”
“Oi. As if you need to step up anything,” I said. She rolled her big brown eyes – taking compliments wasn’t one of Grace’s many skills. “Anyone who gets to go out with THE Grace Wright is hashtag blessed indeed.” I put my hands together and tried to look priest-y and wise. Grace laughed – she never believed me. But she was the best, inside and out. Not only was she the funniest, most optimistic, kindest person I knew, with her huge smile and cheekbone-dimple combo, she had one of those faces that could switch from super friendly to full supermodel vibes, just by looking out the window to see if it was raining. I once took a photo of her reading a cheese packet and she looked like she was on a magazine cover. Not that she thought it for a second. But dinner was ready so we headed downstairs, excited to make our announcement.
In our house, there was one thing more worrying than Mum and Dad wearing matching, flimsy dressing gowns with a tendency to fall open. Or Tess saying she was “pleased” to see me. And that’s discovering a big “SURPRISE!” banner in the kitchen.
I looked at Mum. She was holding a glass of wine. PHEW! I loved Billy, but sibling number four I was not ready for.
“Take a seat.” Dad gestured to the table. I smiled at Mr W, respecting that he’d stood firm in jeans and jumper when my parents were in their third costume change of the evening. “Or should I say, pull up a polar bear.”
Oh yes. Our chairs now had added white ears and tails. Of course. And our serving bowls had been replaced by stocking-shaped dishes. And Sosig’s bed was now a glittery gold sleigh. Billy was already tucking into a slice of Christmas pizza. Nothing fazed her.
“Should I be worried?” I sat down slowly. Tess caught my eye, looking just as alarmed.
Mum rubbed my shoulders. “Only if you don’t like surprises.” Dad bopped her on the nose. “Pretty amazing surprises.”
I didn’t think I did. Mum and Dad’s definition of “amazing” was way too broad. And was that champagne? We normally had supermarket-brand cola. Gulp.
“Are we moving?” Tess folded her arms. “Cos if we are, can I remind you how much I need my own room, please. And it better be near enough to still see my friends.”
“Nope.” Mum offered Mr W the jug of weird white liquid. “Snowball smoothie, Sam?” It looked like milk with white chocolate buttons in. “It’s milk. But with white chocolate buttons in.”
Grace saw my horrified face and mouthed, “Don’t worry”. Easy for her to say. Her responsible adults weren’t currently dressed as a Christmas tree and a giant cracker.
“Are we getting a pony?” Billy said, her eyes so wide it was like she’d spotted the real Father Christmas.
“No, darling,” Dad said softly, but Bil’s smile only got bigger.
“TWO PONIES?” She huffed when he shook his head. “Reindeer then. Can you ride a reindeer? I think I could ride a reindeer.” We’d taken Bil to a city farm last year and she loved the reindeer, whereas the one giving me evils had bitten a hole in my glove. “Did you know they’ve got really hairy noses. To warm the air that comes in? And hairy feet too. Hairier than Dad’s.”
Silence.
“It’s not that, Bils. And for the record” – Dad shot Mr W a look – “I would say I had very averagely hairy feet.”
Definitely a thing only someone with very much above average hairy feet would say. Mr W sipped at his smoothie, staring at the table, clearly not ready to engage in furry feet chat.
“So if there are no more guesses…” Dad flicked on the flashing Christmas lights on his costume. “Get ready to crank your Christmas fun up to ten!” Erm, mine was very much on a minus twenty with no intention of shifting. Mum sidestepped next to him.
“Kiddos, you might need to pack your bags!” She shimmied. I’d never seen a cracker shimmy before. “And get ready to take some serious selfies.” Or did she say “elfies”? Argh. Not even December and my elfxiety was already out of control. “For a weekend away. Next weekend.”
Finally I relaxed. A trip away? That was actually quite cool. We never went anywhere! Although…
“But Grace and I have got tickets for something…” If I kept Grace away from drooling over Joseph D Thingy, very bad things could happen. “Sleigh Another Day.”
Mum grinned. “Well, hopefully Gracey can forgive us. Because she’s invited too.”
Mr W smiled at his daughter. “Which you’re going to need to say a very big thank you for…”
Grace gave me a look. I shrugged back. Zero clue, my friend.
“Shall we?” Mum squeezed Dad’s hand. They’d rehearsed this. Dad cleared his throat dramatically.
“Buckle up, Christmas bunnies.” I think he was getting confused with Easter. “We’re off on a very special family trip to … London!” LONDON?! Cool! I’d always wanted to go!
“And don’t worry about missing Sleigh Another Day.” Mum was bouncing so hard the end of her cracker knocked a fork off the table. “Because we’ve all got tickets to the PREMIERE!!!”
Grace dropped her burnt pizza crust on to her plate. It bounced off right on to the head of a sleeping Sosig, who woke up looking like his Christmas dream had been answered.
Tess just said “dope”.
And Billy neighed.
But me? I didn’t know what to do?!
I’d never even been to London. Let alone gone to a star-studded premiere!
How on earth had we got premiere tickets?
What madness was happening?
I pictured us all on the red carpet – Grace (drooling at the cast), Tess (looking as glamorous as one of the stars), Billy (hopefully not dressed as a horse) and Mum and Dad (nope, all bets were off with them) … And me. Who would be…
Looking awkward. Hating the cameras. Hating the attention. Hating the fact that someone, somewhere might see us together and figure out that I was that stupid little Elf Girl. That my family were The Brussel Shouts.
Nope, this wasn’t the greatest idea ever. It was the biggest threat yet to my lovely normal life!
“Erm…” I had to get out of this. But … I looked over at Grace, who was hugging her dad. Had her eyes welled up? Had his?!
