Christmas Wishes at Pudding Hall by Kate Forster

22

‘Wow, that looks incredible,’ said Marc as she placed the platter of chickens onto the table.

It wasn’t a full Christmas dinner but a practice run, she and Peggy had told each other but when she had mentioned to Peggy that she had wanted to show Simon what he was missing out on at dinner that night, Peggy had risen to the occasion. She had set the table in the dining room for eight, with napery and silver cutlery and some sprigs of holly and ivy in the centre of the table. The fireplace was crackling at the end of the magnificent room and the glassware sparkled under the chandelier and candles on the table.

Soft white rolls waited patiently to be torn apart in silver baskets at either end of the table. Pats of butter with the Pudding Hall crest pressed into them lay in cold glass dishes. Salads in glass bowels and crisp, roasted potatoes in silver serving bowls. There was a dark gravy and bottles of red wine already decanted.

And then there was the bowl of kale and tofu with the cauliflower. There wasn’t anything wrong with it. Christa had tasted it and it was all fine, tasty in fact, and probably Avian would be more than happy with it, but she knew Simon would struggle with the choices being made for him.

She was surprised Simon hadn’t bitten back at Avian and her running and food regime so far. He must really want to be camera-ready and famous.

‘This is like something from a magazine,’ said Paul. ‘I should get House and Garden or Architectural Digest here and do a shoot after you go back to the US, Marc. Christa, Maybe you can come and cook for the shoot. We can do a set-up like this.’

Christa looked at Marc who didn’t look up at her. Going back to the US? Is that what was being discussed and she didn’t know about it?’

‘Sure,’ she said, trying to keep her voice light.

Simon sat scowling at the end of the table with Avian, looking at the platters and bowls in front of him.

‘Perhaps you can be an on-set caterer for film and TV, maybe Avian can get you a gig,’ he said. Christa wanted to throw a bread roll at him for being so condescending.

Thankfully Avian shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so; besides, you couldn’t have this sort of food at craft services. No one I know eats like this.’

Christa sat next to Adam who gave her a look of sympathy.

‘Eat up then,’ she said, trying to maintain some sense of self-esteem under Avian’s withering gaze.

‘What did you get in town today, boys?’ she asked.

Seth and Ethan were very quiet around their mother, watching her adoringly but also careful, as though she might vanish at the slightest sudden movement from them.

‘Um,’ said Seth. ‘We got some Lego, video games, nerf guns and bikes.’

‘Bikes – that’s great, what a good idea,’ she said.

‘That was my idea,’ said Simon looking at Marc. ‘Kids should have bikes for a place like this, otherwise it’s pretty boring.’

Marc raised his eyebrows and Christa saw his jaw twitch. ‘Thanks for the advice. They were on the list for Christmas from me but I will have to get something else now.’

‘Anytime, old fellow – if you need more ideas let me know. I had a very happy childhood; parents didn’t let me want for anything.’

‘Explains a lot,’ whispered Adam to Christa who smiled as she handed him a bowl.

‘Roast potato? They were cooked in duck fat, so they are very decadent. Delicious with the gravy. And make sure you take a roll to mop up the gravy at the end. Such a good thing to do.’

Christa swore she could feel Simon’s eyes boring holes into her as she handed the potatoes to Marc who thanked her and smiled.

She felt her stomach flip and then fall when she remembered Paul’s comment about them returning to San Francisco.

Marc poured the wine for them all and offered some to Simon and Avian.

‘We can’t,’ said Avian. ‘Makes me bloat.’

Simon’s face was thunderous. ‘I can have half a glass,’ he muttered, toying with some tofu on his fork.

‘No you can’t. We shoot in a month and I showed you how jowly you looked from the trailer shoot.’

Christa looked at Paul who made a face, and mouthed the word ouch at her.

‘You don’t need to bring up my jowls here,’ Simon snapped.

‘That reminds me,’ said Christa, knowing she couldn’t help herself – it was just too easy a pass to make. ‘Do you remember that lovely lemongrass pork jowl we had in Thailand?’ She looked at Avian. ‘In Thailand, pork jowl is similar to the pork belly that’s so popular in China. Fatty and tasty.’

‘He could work on his belly also,’ said Avian meanly.

For a moment she felt sorry for Simon, being fat-shamed by Avian in front of everyone but then she remembered he was just as mean, albeit much subtler about it.

The dinner was delicious, and Christa thanked Adam and Paul for keeping the mood light at their end of the table, interrogating the boys about Lego and challenging them to a building competition another night.

When they had finished eating, Christa stood up.

‘Now if you can assist in clearing the table, I will get dessert ready for us. It will take fifteen minutes but it will give us time to let this meal settle.’

Simon was sneaking a potato while Avian was looking at Christa. ‘Dessert? No thank you. Simon and I don’t do that.’

‘Hang on,’ said Simon, trying to swallow the potato whole so Avian couldn’t see his duplicitous act.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘Chocolate molten lava cake with raspberry coulis and Chantilly cream with a scoop of French vanilla ice cream I made today.’

‘Get out of town,’ exclaimed Paul. ‘I will have Simon’s if he can’t eat it.’

Avian stood up. ‘Thank you but no thank you. Simon?’

Reluctantly Simon stood.

‘Thanks for the kale and tofu,’ he said, glaring at Christa.

‘If you want yours later, I will leave it in the refrigerator. You can heat it up in the microwave.’

‘No, he won’t. It’s bad for you,’ Avian instructed. ‘I will come and see you after dinner,’ she said to the boys, who were looking from adult to adult like it was a tennis match.

‘Go and play, boys, and I’ll call you for dessert,’ said Marc.

Adam, Paul and Marc cleared the table, laughing in the kitchen about Avian and Simon.

‘He looks hungry,’ said Adam.

‘He is hungry,’ said Marc. ‘He looked at that chicken like he was about to propose to it.’

Christa laughed. ‘He is starving, I know he is. I’m betting that that molten lava cake will be gone in the morning.’

‘Avian will probably put a lock on the fridge,’ Paul said.

‘I feel a bit mean,’ admitted Christa. ‘But Avian’s approach to food is so damaging. I’m not sure the boys should be indoctrinated by her weird rules and phobias.’

‘What do you mean?’ Marc asked.

‘She calls food good and bad all the time. Food is morally neutral. You can’t eat like this all the time as it’s not healthy but you can have a meal like this and enjoy it and know it’s a sometime event.’

The men listened keenly as she spoke.

‘If you are given choices with every meal, you will find kids choose a balance. A plate of fruit with some good quality chocolate will be taken from equally. The children will take a strawberry and chocolate. A few berries, a little watermelon and so on and then maybe some chocolate again. If weighed in the balance it would be equal.’

She paused, choosing her words carefully so she didn’t upset Marc about the boys.

‘Being too rigid in anything can be damaging, is all I’m saying.’

Marc sat at the kitchen table.

‘Avian is rigid, that’s for sure.’

‘And Simon will rebel. It will start with the lava cake and then explode into something bigger. It’s only a matter of time,’ Christa said as she put the individual ramekins into the oven.

Adam and Paul left the kitchen to drink their wine in front of the fire.

Christa avoided looking at Marc as she set up the items for dressing the cakes when they were out of the oven.

‘Are you okay?’ Marc asked. ‘It must be really awful for you with them being here.’

Christa stirred the berry coulis. ‘It is what it is.’ She said but the truth was every moment around Simon was unbearable. Her anxiety was back, and she kept waking in the night in a sweat, and had started to twist her hair at the crown when she didn’t realise, only to stop when she felt some of it coming out in her hand. But she wouldn’t say that to Marc, he would think she was fragile and useless.

She thought about what Adam said about Marc and her, and she looked at him.

‘Are you going to go back to America after Christmas?’

Marc was silent for a moment. ‘I don’t know, to be honest with you. The boys have friends there and I share custody with Avian.’

She nodded, and looked down at the bench.

They were talking about things that seemed so far away but so important and yet they didn’t know anything about each other. It was silly.

‘Would you come to America? To visit?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

They looked at each other until finally Christa broke away.

Everyone was living in a fantasy, she decided, and the only reality was the people on the street who needed help, who didn’t have a choice of which country to live in, or which wine to drink.

‘Probably not,’ she said as she turned on the oven light to check the cakes. ‘America doesn’t interest me. I think I will stay here and see if I can’t get a job working somewhere that helps make a difference. That’s what interests me.’

But she knew she was lying. She would have gone to America if she loved Marc but it was too much of a risk to assume anything anymore. She wasn’t about to give up her new freedom for another man and lose herself again.

She turned around to gauge Marc’s reaction but he was gone and she was speaking to an empty chair.

I guess he didn’t want to find out, she thought as she started to clean up the bench. Not that she blamed him. Who would wait for her anyway?