‘You certainly are,’ he replied, slapping it away. ‘Uncle Steve, shall I open the wine?’
‘Way ahead of you.’ Dad stretched his arm through the tinsel-trimmed serving hatch and grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir off the kitchen counter. ‘Who wants some?’
Everyone at the table, including the two kids, put up their hands.
‘Come on then, Gwen,’ Dad said, pouring wine while Mum set out the rest of the starters. ‘I want to hear all about everything that’s happening at Abbott & Howe. What cases are you working on at the moment?’
‘Oh, come on, Dad.’ I picked up my fork and poked at my pâté. ‘No one wants to talk about work at Christmas.’
‘We’ve beenverybusy this year,’ Oliver declared before my dad could reply. ‘Doubled our business, haven’t we, Cerys?’
Somewhere behind the holly, my sister nodded.
‘That’s grand, Ol,’ Dad said, grinning across the table before turning back to me. ‘You know I love to talk shop, chicken, tell me everything. Any big mergers? Cut-throat acquisitions?’
‘It’s really not that exciting,’ I replied with a weak smile. ‘Mostly pushing paper around and sending emails. Besides, there’s very little I can say, what with all the NDAs and what have you. But enough about me, what about that World Cup final, eh? What a match—’
‘If things are too sensitive to talk about, you can just say.’ I blanched as he patted my hand, looking more pleased than ever. ‘Can’t blame your old dad for trying to live vicariously through his daughter.’
‘We brought on three new people this year,’ Cerys said loudly. ‘That’s ten staff we’ve got at Adlington & Adlington now, not including me and Ol.’
‘There’s always money to be made in personal injury claims,’ Dad gave her an approving but undeniably disinterested nod as he started on his meal. ‘You’ve set yourselves up nicely there.’
‘Set yourself up as ambulance chasers,’ Manny muttered, earning a kick under the table from my mother as Oliver raised his glass, oblivious to the slight.
‘Not that I didn’t love my little practice,’ Dad went on, thoughtfully spearing a tiny pickled onion and holding it up in the air. ‘But I’ve always wondered what would have happened if I’d gone down to London after university instead of coming back home. I think I would have done really well at a place like yours. My favourite lecturer at UCL always said I’d have thrived at a Magic Circle firm. Very different that is, from a local solicitor’s.’
‘You wouldn’t have met me for a start,’ Mum repliedsternly. ‘So you wouldn’t have these kids and you wouldn’t be sat here now, wondering what would have happened if you’d moved to London when you should be eating your starter.’
‘Point taken.’ He popped the pickled onion into his mouth and blew her a kiss.
With her pâté barely touched, Nan pushed her plate away and fixed her gaze on me. ‘You’ll be pleased to know I don’t want to hear about your work.’ She wrinkled her nose at the very thought and I relaxed, stuffing a giant forkful of my starter into my mouth. ‘What I want to know is, what the bloody hell happened with you and Michael?’
All eyes turned to me as I choked on my pâté.
‘Sorry,’ I replied, reaching for my water glass. ‘What was that?’
‘Everything was all right last Christmas,’ Nan pressed on. ‘And weren’t you here at Easter? He seemed fine at Easter.’
I felt a supportive hand on my knee and glanced gratefully at Manny.
‘He didn’t come with me at Easter, he was busy. Say, Nan, did I read in the council newsletter that they’re closing the post office on Mondays? You must be furious …’
‘Busy shagging his receptionist,’ Oliver whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear and I shrank down in my seat, my cheeks flushed.
Nan sniffed with distaste. ‘His receptionist? Surely not, Gwen, that’s very common behaviour.’
‘I know, I’m sorry, I wish he’d been more original but no, he went with a classic.’ I laughed awkwardly, wondering whether or not this was a good time to hurlmyself through the dining-room window. ‘Anyway, about the post office—’
‘He never was good enough for you,’ Mum said, choosing to ignore the fact she’d been sending me links to engagement rings and wedding venues every other day for at least the last two years. ‘You’re best off without him.’
‘The man is an imbecile,’ agreed Dad. ‘Doesn’t know a good thing when he sees it.’
‘I don’t know,’ Oliver countered. ‘I’ve seen a photo of the new girl and she looks like a good thing to me. Fit as.’
‘These things happen.’ I cleared my throat loudly but even the fuzzy beaver shepherds on mum’s nativity scene looked as though they had more dignity than I did in that moment. ‘And you never know what could happen in the future. Sometimes couples need to take a breakjust like the post office.’
‘I don’t know about best off without him,’ Oliver grunted, ignoring the fact that if looks could kill, I’d have had him sliced, diced and six feet under. ‘But who wants to shag a dentist? Going around putting their fingers in other people’s mouths all day. Disgusting, that’s what it is.’