Free Christmas at the Beach Cafe by Lucy Diamond

way here, no problem – last ten yards, crash. Bloody typical, that is. Never mind,
though. We’re here now.’
    ‘Yep,’ I said, still none the wiser. ‘You certainly are.’
    ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Mum said. ‘You just sounded so down last night on the phone. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being lonely at Christmas without the
family, so it was rather a spur of the moment decision. I thought, I won’t ring, she’ll only get in a flap about food and whatnot – so we’ve just brought everything with us.
Bedding and pillows, as well as our Christmas cake and an extra turkey, oh, and a trifle, although it might be all over the inside of the boot now, after that little crash. I did
tell
your
father to go slow on that bend, but would he listen?’
    I tuned out, not listening either. My brain couldn’t cope. Yes, okay, I probably
had
sounded a bit flat when she’d phoned again last night, but that was only because I was
kind of drained after the laptop incident and my resulting conversation with Jake, not because I wanted my parents to turn up on our doorstep. Hello! Newsflash! I wanted fewer people here in the
flat, not more!
    ‘I did
text
!’ she added, as if that made it all right. ‘And Louise said she would too.’
    I didn’t explain that I hadn’t looked at any more texts after Betty’s shocker. The less she knew about my little appearance in the tabloid press
,
the better. ‘So
you’re planning to be here until . . .’ I said numbly as she gave me a perfumed kiss.
    ‘Well, Boxing Day probably. I said to Ruth we’d do presents with them and Lou that evening. That way I get to see all of my girls – perfect!’
    ‘Right,’ I said, trying to pull myself together. ‘Um . . . Well, you’d better come in, then. Let me carry something for you.’
    Ed, Amber and Jake were all peering out the back door by now, looking as confused as I felt. ‘Hello,’ Ed said. ‘What a nice surprise. I’ll just get some boots on, and
I’ll give you a hand.’
    ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Amber said, earning herself a double thumbs up from Dad.
    ‘You read my mind, love,’ he said.
    ‘I can’t quite believe you made it here,’ I said, following my mum round to the boot. ‘It sounded like the roads were going to be awful from the local news we
heard.’
    ‘They were fine all the way to Wadebridge,’ Mum replied breezily, putting Monty down so he could wee into the snow. ‘Lot of fuss about nothing, if you ask me. The roads to
Carrawen were slightly more hairy but your dad just took it slowly. And here we are!’
    Here they were. And there went my last hopes for a quiet romantic Christmas. Ever since I’d broken that glass angel at the start of the month, it felt as if everything had gone wrong.
‘Great,’ I said, with an attempt at enthusiasm.
    ‘There we go,’ Mum said, passing us various bags and boxes to carry. ‘Oh, it’s so lovely to be here again. And a white Christmas too! What more could you ask
for?’
    The snow was still falling in thick soft flurries, but we weren’t going to starve, at least. Not with the enormous Christmas cake my mum produced, the cream-filled
chocolate log Louise had donated, the turkey, the bag of King Edwards, the jar of cranberry jelly and a tin of Mum’s finest sugar-sprinkled shortbread. (The trifle was sadly the worse for
wear as predicted.)
    ‘Oh, it does look pretty in here,’ Mum said, as she carried a box of presents up to the flat and started unpacking them under the tree in the living room. Then she noticed
Jake’s sleeping bag on the sofa and the contents of his rucksack scattered in a two-metre radius around it. ‘Ahh,’ she said in the next breath. ‘They’re staying here
too, then?’
    ‘They are,’ I confirmed. ‘Just until the snow melts anyway, whenever that’s going to be.’
    Her face fell. ‘I didn’t think to check – I thought you were going to be on your own.’
    ‘I did too,’ I replied.