"Did you know, this will be my last Christmas as Sophie Delaney?" My beautiful fiancée notes as she adjusts the length of her red dress. When it sits as Sophie wants it to, she smiles at her reflection in the mirror and then turns to grin at me. "Not that I'm complaining."
"Good," I say, giving one firm nod. "Because in less than a week's time, you're going to be Sophie Whitaker."
Having discussed the family name situation, my immediate family had agreed that a change in name would be desirable. For as long as we can remember, the titleholders of the Duke of Kendal had always been Courtenay, and while for many the name had brought luck, for the most part, it was a tainted name. A name which we were more than glad to see the back of. After some to and fro, we settled on utilising Whitaker as the new family name, a move that had been made official shortly before the civil service closed for the festive season.
"I like the sound of that," Sophie muses. Slowly, she makes her way over to the armchair where I'm sat and places herself on my knee, her arm snaking around my neck. "You know, this time last year, if anyone had told me that I'd be engaged to the man of my dreams, I would have told them that they were fucking crazy."
I laugh, throwing my head back. "Fucking crazy, huh?" Sobering up, I nuzzle my nose in the crook of Sophie's neck and plant a kiss on her soft skin. "I guess it's amazing what can happen in a year. Maybe by Christmas twenty-seventeen, we'll have a baby."
"Maybe," Sophie smiles, leaning in to kiss my lips. "In the meantime, we have to survive Christmas twenty-sixteen and that is a task in itself. Let's go and see if everyone is still alive."
Christmas Day with my family is almost always formal with everyone expected to dress 'appropriately' for dinner at one pm sharp. After the five-course lunch, we all change into more casual clothing after which we gather to open gifts before scuttling off to do our own thing. 'Our own thing' used to involve Samuel running off down the village pub while I would drive back to London to spend the evening with friends, leaving Connie on her own. On the rare occasions that my Laurence and Veronica were around, we wouldn't even get to the gift exchanging before Laurence had passed out drunk and Veronica had disappeared to meet whichever toy boy she was hiding in one of the cottages on the estate.
When we were younger, we had Evelyn make the day as special as possible, but as we grew older and Evie settled with her own family, Christmastime seemed like a rather pointless celebration.
Now, however, with Sophie and her close-knit family joining ours, the status quo had changed. Some elements of a Whitaker Christmas remained- the formal lunch with appropriate dress, for example- but the Clément-Delaney family were intent on incorporating as much of their traditions as possible. We were no longer instructed to dress 'casually' for the gift giving, but rather, we were to change into the pyjamas that Camille had bought us all and delivered to our rooms late last night. After that, we would spend the afternoon playing games as a family with no one allowed to leave unless Camille deemed it possible, and even then she had strict rules on what was considered a valid reason to leave. Either a comfort break or death, and no other reasons.
It was this collision of traditions that had set my grandmother and Camille on course for an epic clash of egos, but so far today, it all seemed to be playing out rather smoothly. Then again, Sophie and I had practically barricaded ourselves in the home we were settling into on the estate. Most of the families were staying at the main house, but Sophie and I wanted it to just be us when we woke on Christmas morning seeing as it would be our first together.
"A hundred pounds says that they've killed each other and that's why things seem quiet," Sophie offers as we leave the comfort of our home and get into the Land Rover that was at our disposal for the duration of our stay.
I load Alfie and Hetty into the crates in the boot before joining Sophie in the front, turning the key in the ignition and setting off for the main house. "You have very little faith in your mother and my grandmother, you know."
"The only thing I know is that those women are vicious," Sophie says with not an ounce of humour in her words. "They've argued over every element of this day and I can honestly say that I am absolutely shocked that they haven't already killed each other. Christmas Day is statistically one of the most violent days of the year. Hospitals are inundated with patients that have been injured in familial disputes. It's gotten so bad that Monopoly has set up a helpline this year to aid in the resolution of arguments. Monopoly, Daniel. The game! Even they know that Christmas Day is a shitshow clusterfuck."
"Monopoly haven't done that," I scoff. "That's ridiculous."
"It's true," Sophie insists as a sigh passes her lips when she sees that we're closing in on the main house. "I heard it on the radio. Anyway, I think we should have a safeword."
When I kill the engine, I turn to Sophie with a blank face. "For what purposes?"
"It's for when the shit inevitably hits the fan and we need to get out of there, stat!" Sophie exclaims. "I think we should go with an uncommon word that wouldn't appear in everyday conversation. How about Wilber?"
I blink.
"It's genius. You don't know a Wilber, I don't know a Wilber," Sophie smiles. "It's perfect. Wilber it is. Now, let's head on inside and get this show on the road. And remember- Wilber!"
"You owe me a hundred pounds," I whisper into Sophie's ear as the dessert bowls were placed in front of us.
We were more than an hour into lunch and so far, nothing untoward had happened. It was all, in a word, civil. Camille and Connie had managed to keep their egos intact and were the epitome of politeness while the rest of us were too scared to move an inch just in case the balance was thrown off. However, with dessert the final course before we could escape for a while, we were on the home straight and I'd soon be a hundred pounds richer.
"It's not over until it's over, Whitaker," Sophie retaliated before placing the morsel of cheesecake on her tongue. She chewed gracefully before the tip of her tongue darted out the side, licking the crumb that stuck to her lower lip. It was hard to concentrate after that. "Wilber will be making an appearance, just you wait. They're like volcanoes waiting to explode."
Looking around the table, it was hard to believe a word Sophie said. Despite the tension in the air, there were still smiles on the faces of everyone that was sat for lunch. Emma and Adam were sitting closer than everyone else and they'd often exchange flirtatious glances, the honeymoon period still clearly alive and well. Samuel, Lucas and Jimmy appeared as if they'd rather be anywhere else, which was coincidentally the same look that Evie and Alistair wore. Finn and Ewan had long passed that stage and sat with vacant, dead-on-the-inside eyes. Charlotte was actively avoiding catching Fletch's gaze while he was doing everything possible to catch hers. Another millimetre to the left and he'll fall from his chair.
Baxterley was on duty, keeping a stern gaze over the proceedings, ready to jump in should World War Three break out. Even the slightest sound was enough to make Baxterley flinch; by the end of the day, his nerves would be shattered and he would have thoroughly deserved the tumbler of double whisky that he traditionally drinks after Christmas Day.
"After dinner," my grandmother began as she took a long look around the table. "We shall all change into casual clothing and reconvene in the drawing room for after dinner drinks."
I winced. Sophie was right- it's not over until it's over and Wilber would surely be making an overdue appearance today.
"Actually," Camille corrected. It struck me that her speech wasn't as accented as usual and I had to inappropriately wonder if the French lilt she usually displayed was an over exaggeration of her heritage. "After dinner, we will be changing into pyjamas and we will reconvene in the family room for games night. The boys-" she smiled down the table at an embarrassed looking Finn and Ewan, "-have already chosen the games we will play. You wouldn't want to disappoint them, would you, Constance?"
From my side, I heard Sophie let out a quiet whistle, audible only to myself and to Charlotte on her left. "Oh, snap."
I couldn't agree more. I wasn't sure which detail of Camille's speech would infuriate my grandmother more- the fact that she was dictating what we will be doing, dragging my nephews into the argument, or calling her Constance. All were equally probable as my grandmother responded with a cold glare that was enough to freeze hell over.
"Ah, yes," she said in her cool voice. Having had enough of Camille, my grandmother turns to address her two youngest grandsons. "What games have you decided we play?"
In typical fashion, Finn and Ewan look at each other, silently trying to decide which would answer. For as long as I can remember, Finn and Ewan have been terrified of their great-grandmother. It probably stems from the fact that it wasn't until the summer that they knew the truth about her connection to them and before then, she was just the very scary granny of Daniel and Samuel, their pseudo-uncles. Connie could be very scary indeed when she wanted to. If you were unlucky enough to upset her, she became even more intimidating.
"We were thinking about Monopoly," Ewan finally answered while Finn breathed a sigh of relief. "Only then, we remember that Uncle Dan and Uncle Sam had that massive argument over it a few Christmases ago. Charades is always funny to watch and Logo is good to play. We could play Jenga, I suppose."
My grandmother gave a twisted smile as her attention moved back to Camille. "Yes, I can see that the boys have given it incredible thought about which games we will play."
Camille opened her mouth to retaliate but she was cut off by the very calm tone of my eldest nephew. "Charades followed by Logo, then Christmas Pictionary before we play Are You Smarter Than a Ten Year Old. Finally, we'll be playing I Spy Christmas Style. Ewan and I choose the teams."
The clattering of Evie's dessert spoon hitting the side of the china bowl was the only noise filling the dining room as we all gaped at Finn. For someone who used to be terrified of Constance, he certainly didn't display the same terror as he previously felt whenever he had to face up to her. I'm not sure how, but my nephew seemed to have matured in a blink of an eye.
"You'd make a good lawyer," I noted absentmindedly to Finn. "Or an interrogator."
Finn wrinkled his nose at me. "No, thank you. I want to be a photographer."
"If you'd like," Camille began, sending Finn a beaming smile as she spoke. "You can always come to my fashion studio and work with our in-house photographer who shoots all my designs."
"No, thank you," Finn replied politely. He picked up his spoon and bit into the fruit cake that he very clearly detested. "And I don't appreciate bribes. Whoever ends up Camille on their team, you get ten points deducted immediately."
"Haha," Connie laughs. "Serves you right for thinking my great-grandson can be bought."
"And whoever gets Constance," Finn continued, "will also have ten points deducted. We do not tolerate smugness either."
Samuel was doing something very strange with his arms. Maybe he was imitating a Pterodactyl.
"Jurassic Park!" I yelled, hoping that my guess was correct.
Finn and Ewan, the referees of the game of Charades we were currently playing, both scoffed and shook their heads. "No," Ewan managed to clarify between giggles. "Uncle Dan, you suck at this game."
It was true that I had no idea what I was doing, but it certainly didn't help that my team was practically as useless as I am. Just my luck, I'd been placed on a team with Samuel, Jimmy, Adam and Alistair. Not to mention Camille and Connie. I'm not sure how we ended up with both, but we did. That meant that Sophie was on the same team as Charlotte, Fletch, Emma, Lucas and Evie. Of course, the other team would kick the crap out of us.
"We give up," a bored Jimmy Delaney said with a heavy sigh. "Samuel, what the feck are you supposed to be?"
"James!" Camille scorned her husband. In French, she continued to admonish him. "Il y a des enfants présent!"
Despite the presence of children, Jimmy just shrugged his shoulder and motioned for Samuel to reveal the title of the movie he was trying to convey to us. "Zombieland," my brother announced. "Duh."
I'm not sure how that was supposed to be obvious, but if Ewan and Finn knew it, it must be a child-friendly film. Perhaps a Disney one. When Samuel sat down, Charlotte stood up, pulling down the hem of her pyjama top as she received her first card from Ewan who smiled bashfully as Charlotte's hand grazed his.
By the rules that the boys imposed on us, each team kept playing until they failed to guess a film correctly. So far, the other team had guessed thirteen films- much in thanks to Charlotte's encyclopaedic knowledge of the cinematic world- while we were stuck on four. However, with Charlotte now in the hot seat and unable to help her team guess, it was the perfect opportunity for us to watch as the team screwed up.
"Back to the Future!" Fletch shouted when Charlotte pointed over her shoulder and then pointed to the area in front of her.
"Correct," Finn asserted. He handed Charlotte her next card.
"American Pie?" Emma suggested when Charlotte pointed at Adam, Emma's husband, and then at the mince pie on the coffee table. When Ewan nodded enthusiastically, Emma fist pumped the air and gave out a little 'Whoop!' of excitement.
The next five films were guessed correctly, with Sophie nailing The Grinch when Charlotte pointed at Jimmy. Thankfully, their undoing was The Father of the Bride, for when Charlotte once again pointed at Jimmy, the team all went with Scrooge. They were awfully confident, but Finn delighted in telling them they were wrong.
When charades ended- an hour after we began- Sophie's team won although the points gap had closed considerably. They won with twenty-five while we ended on a score of seventeen. Logo was a relatively painless for my team and we won when the deciding card showed the logo of Heinz, a product that Samuel knew far too much about.
Christmas Pictionary was a blast, especially because by the time we got around to playing that, most of the adults were rather merry. I learnt that while Sophie was creative, it didn't necessarily extend to artistic creativeness. Her drawings were crude and mainly consisted of stickmen but that didn't stop Charlotte and Emma from correctly guessing them. In fact, none of the Delaney family is skilled artists and it was left to Camille to act as the tour de force of my team. That said, Evie was exceptional when it came to drawing and she led the points grab for the other team.
By that juncture in the evening, we were almost closing the gap and it was down to Finn to bring it home to us as we hunkered down to play Are You Smarter than a Ten Year Old. Being the eldest, and the only one of the boys over ten years old, we made sure to steal Finn for our team, while the others were forced to make do with Ewan, not that there was anything wrong with him. Except for the fact that he wasn't ten years old and probably wouldn't know the answers to the questions.
"True or False. Your small intestine is approximately 4 times longer than your large intestine," Evie read the question which was posed to her eldest son.
"True," Finn answered. When Ewan huffed and folded his arms over his chest, Finn peacocked by turning to his brother and haughtily saying, "Beat that, stupid."
Evie scolded Finn for calling Ewan stupid and then passed the game over to our table. "How many feet are there in one mile plus one yard plus one foot?" Samuel asked. "Is it-"
"It's five thousand, two hundred and eighty-four," Ewan interrupted, his eyes cast up to the left and his face scrunched in thought. Then he nodded. "Feet."
The boys were level pegging for most of the game, which was rather surprising. Finn was especially put out that his younger brother was getting his answers correct, while Ewan seemed bored by the game and kept yawning. When Ewan was asked, "On a map, if 1 inch equals 20 miles, how many inches is 180 miles?" he stared at Camille and said, "Ninety. And please don't insult my intellect by asking such banal questions."
After the roar of laughter died down, it was decided that the next question would be the tie-breaker as the boys were equal on fifteen points each. Connie held the card aloft and squinted in order to see the small print clearer. "Eugene Cernan was the last man to do what? A) Walk on the moon, B) Fly to Mars, C) Captain the Space Shuttle, or D) See Halley's Comet."
Finn answered first. "Captain the Space Shuttle."
"Wrong. Eugene Cernan, or Gene Cernan," Ewan said through a yawn. "Was the last man to walk on the moon. Are we done now?"
The I Spy game the boys had devised wasn't so much of an I Spy, but rather a Find and Fetch kind of game. Ewan and Finn would take it in turns to shout out the names of items and the chosen members from the team had to rush off to find the item and bring them back. The quickest to return bagged five points for their team. Samuel, having consumed too much alcohol at Jimmy's encouragement, retired to bed early, while for medical reasons, Connie couldn't play for fear that she'd pop a hip or something, and as such, the opposing team also had to bench a team member.
"I'll skip this one, too," Lucas said. "The doctor said that I'm not allowed to exert myself quite yet otherwise my new lungs will give out on me. I'll be a cheerleader, it's cool."
"Alright, done," Finn agreed to those terms. "Who will be the first to find and fetch?"
Fletch stood and rubbed his hands together. "I volunteer as tribute."
Adam scoffed and nodded his head as he got to his feet, squaring off nicely against Fletch even though Fletch was possibly twice Adam's size. The first item they had to find was a pair of women's shoes. In the battle to be the quickest, Adam tripped Fletch up which had my friend falling face first into Charlotte's chest, not that Fletch was complaining. Instead, he smirked, straightened up and reached down to Charlotte's slipper-clad feet. Turning on his knees, he presented them to Finn and Ewan.
"Women's shoes," Fletch said just as Adam came rushing back in with a pair of Emma's red-soled heels. "You're too late, cheater."
The competitiveness in this game was horrendous, but nothing Adam and Fletch seemed to do could compete with Alistair and Evie. Whenever one stood, so did the other and as soon as the item was announced, they both took off with the competitiveness of an Olympic sprinter. Honestly, Usain Bolt would have been left in the dust.
I'm not sure how it happened, but these contests soon escalated and whenever one competitor stood it would soon follow that their rival would too. Adam found himself paired with Fletch, Alistair with Evie, myself and Sophie, Jimmy and Charlotte, and finally, Camille and Emma. Despite the ferocity, it soon became clear that my team were woefully underequipped to win this battle.
Sophie, while shorter than myself, was quick. Fletch was bigger and more brutish than Adam. Charlotte was at least thirty years younger than Jimmy, as was Emma in comparison to Camille. Evie, meanwhile, was too creative in comparison to Alistair. When Finn shouted out, 'Something that cost more than a thousand pounds!' Evie waited until her husband was out the door and running around like a maniac before she took off her engagement ring and presented that as her find. It worked, too.
"You're cheating!" Jimmy shouted just as Camille said, "Vous trichez!"
I'm guessing they mean the same thing. Things turned very nasty after that and soon enough, the game was abandoned and the total number of points won overall the games were calculated. Mentally, I tried to work out who had won each game and concluded that it didn't look all that good for my team.
"Ok, so Team A," Finn pointed at my team. "You have fifty-eight points, while Team B, you had sixty-seven points."
"But they cheated!" Adam infuriatingly waved his hands over to the winning team. "They didn't legally win!"
Ewan, still yawning, turned to our team and frowned. "You started off with minus twenty points, so you weren't going to win anyway. Which remind me, Team A, technically you have thirty-eight points. Too bad. Maybe next year you'll win."
As soon as Ewan was suitably reprimanded for his attitude, Evie and Alistair thanked everyone for a fun afternoon and evening and then shuttled their two very tired children up to their bedrooms. Jimmy and Camille followed not long after, as did Emma, Adam, Lucas and Camille. The only ones left standing was Charlotte, Fletch, Sophie and myself.
"Well, I'm zonked out," Fletch said, raising his arms above his head as he stretched out his body. It never failed to amuse me how 'Australian' he sounded when he said certain words. "I'm hitting the hay. I, uh, guess I'll see you all in the morning." Turning to Charlotte, he winked at her. "Lottie."
Frowning at his use of a nickname when addressing Charlotte, I watched as Fletch left the family room and headed out to the hallway, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pyjama pockets in that cocksure way he did when he was certain he had a girl well within his clutches.
This was not good.
"Yeah, I'm going to bed, too," Charlotte said, seconds later. "See you in the morning, love birds. Night."
When both Fletch and Charlotte were clearly out of sight, I threw my head back on the couch and sighed. "They're sleeping together."
Sophie laughed. "No, they're not," she asserted. "Well, not yet. But it's going to happen. Now, are we turning in, too? It's been a long day."
I nod. "Ok."
"But," Sophie's voice took on a flirtatious tone. "I'm not that tired. Are you?"
"That depends," I smirk. "What did you have in mind?"
"A little bit of everything," she answers, looking up at me from under her dark eyelashes. "Coming?"
"Definitely," I say, getting to my feet. "Will you be coming too?"
HAPPY DECEMBER 25TH!
Sarah xx