She wheels around to face me. ‘Haven’t you unpacked yet? You had all yesterday afternoon to do it. I suppose I’ll have to do it, just like I have to do everything around here.’ She bends to unzip the suitcase.
‘Don’t do that!’ I say. ‘All your presents are in there, and I haven’t had time to wrap them yet.’
‘I don’t know what you’ve been doing since you got here,’ she says. ‘Hurry up and take a shower and unpack your case. All your clothes will be getting crumpled.’
‘Jeans don’t tend to crumple,’ I say.
She looks horrified. ‘Please don’t tell me that’s all you’ve brought with you? You must have packed a couple of nice dresses.’
‘I didn’t think I’d need any. No one warned me that I’d be arriving home in the middle of the wedding of the year.’
‘But what about Christmas Day?’ she says. ‘We always dress up on Christmas Day.’
‘Youalways dress up on Christmas Day,’ I correct her. ‘I have to dress smartly every day for work. I’m not doing it on holiday as well.’
‘It isn’t only Christmas Day,’ she grumbles. ‘It’s all the other things too. Vera and Mark always have a drinks party on Boxing Day. You know that.’
‘I don’t, actually. But what does that have to do with me?’
‘Don’t be so silly. Of course, you’re invited. Everyone’s dying to see you. Some of our newer friends haven’t even met you.’
I pick up a towel. ‘They’ve managed to get along fine until now. I’m sure they’ll cope. I don’t want to spend all my time going to drinks parties and making small talk with people I don’t know. I came home for a break.’
‘We’ll see,’ she says ominously. ‘Now you need to get a move on.’
‘I don’t mind cold toast,’ I say. ‘It sounds as though Dad’s burned it anyway.’
She sighs. ‘I’ll go down and see what he’s up to. Then we’d better get going. The shops were a zoo at the weekend. Goodness knows what they’ll be like today.’
‘What shops?’ I ask, but it’s too late. She’s already bustling down the stairs, calling to Dad to switch off the grill.
I roll my eyes and go to have a shower. I find my parents sitting at the kitchen table eating bowls of cereal.
‘What happened to the toast?’ I ask.
‘What toast?’ says Mum, handing me the milk. ‘Your father and I always have muesli for breakfast. You know that. It keeps us regular.’
Without waiting for an answer, she resumes her conversation with Dad.
‘So, Ursula said to me, “Why not take the park and ride?” I told her I wasn’t sitting for half an hour on some smelly old bus trying to balance a pile of carrier bags on my knee. From what Alison says, it’s very unreliable, anyway. She and Diane had to wait half an hour in the pouring rain last week. Annie and I will take the car and park in Church Lane.’
She turns to me. ‘That’s why we need to get going as quickly as possible. The shops open at nine. Even the overflow car parks will be full by ten.’
I pour myself some cereal. ‘I’m not going to the shops. I’ve brought all my Christmas presents with me.’
Dad puts his bowl into the sink. ‘I wouldn’t waste your energy arguing, if I were you. Your mother’s decided that you’re going to the shops, and that’s that.’
I make one last feeble protest. ‘I’m sure Mum can do her shopping without me.’
‘Of course, I can’t!’ says Mum. ‘I don’t know what size you are. Even if you told me, it probably wouldn’t fit. Sizing is all over the place these days. I do wish they wouldn’t keep changing everything.’
‘Why do you need to know my size?’ I ask.
She snatches away my bowl and puts it on the counter. ‘I’m not having my daughter going to the wedding dressed like one of those punk rocker people.’
‘Vow renewal,’ I say, making an ineffectual grab for my bowl. ‘I haven’t finished that.’
She ignores me. ‘Go and brush your teeth. I want you downstairs in exactly five minutes. And put on some nice underwear – if you own any.’