Page 7 of Break the Ice

She shakes her head at me. ‘I say this because I don’t want you to waste your life. I want you to have a plan. You’re an adult now.’

‘All right, Mum,’ I say in tired teen tones. As soon as I say it, I can tell some emotion hits us all, making the table go quiet. And I think of Norah’s words being said by our dear mum. In her thick Spanish accent, also asking me why my hair is so dry and why I wear so many old bracelets down my wrist. But the difference is I could launch myself at her in a hug and she’d laugh at me and wrap it all up in love. I don’t think I’m wasting my life. I go out there and I have all the fun, I don’t waste a single moment, I am the last person to leave the dancefloor, the one who orders one of everything, the one who loves those in her life the hardest. I hope they see that. But it may be true that I also have no clue where this is all going. I am on the cusp of proper adulthood and there is no direction, no destination, no clear route. I know this makes my sensible sisters very nervous. ‘You are spending Christmas with us, yes? You’re not going to any fancy parties we don’t know about?’

‘Of course,’ I reply. ‘We’re all going down to spend it with Dad in Devon, yes? I have an event on the evening of the twenty-third but I’ll drive down on Christmas Eve.’

Norah stops for a moment to look at me. I know I’m cutting it fine but I will be there for Christmas. I wouldn’t be anywhere else except with these losers during the festive period. In fact, it’s part of the reason I’m here tonight, even if she is using me for slave labour; I find I like being in a family home at Christmas. I’ve put up lights in my flat and a three-foot tree, but there’s something about being around my sisters’ houses, seeing stockings up, Christmas wrapping paper on the table, cards on windowsills, that warms the festive cockles. It’s cosiness and colour and everything smells like sugar. They also always have a constant supply of mini marshmallows. ‘If I gave you a job then…’ Norah continues.

I crease my face up. ‘Is it a cooking job? Is it peeling things?’

‘Well, there will always be that job but it’s something else, it’s quite important.’

‘And we’re trusting Phoebe with this?’ Flo jokes. I elbow her back.

Norah goes over to the kitchen door, listens out for children and then closes it softly. ‘I have a secret.’

I catch Flo’s eye, hoping it’s not a loaded secret that’s going to have consequences. Norah goes to her phone and turns it to us to reveal a picture of a brown and black dog, big shiny eyes looking up at the screen, his ears drooping down around his face. I inhale sharply.

‘That’s a dog,’ Flo says.

‘A cute dog,’ I add, my eyes widening with joy.

‘It’s my dog…’ Norah says, slightly nervous.

‘WHAT?’ I squeal and she urges me to quieten down so the children don’t hear. ‘You’re getting a dog?’

‘Adam and I are getting it from the local rescue centre. It’s the girls’ Christmas gift. We’ve had one of those years. Chicken pox, Skye’s hamster died, Adam changing jobs. We need someone to salvage this year.’

Flo puts a hand to her chest, pouting.

‘Does he have a name?’ I say, my tone more excited than it should be.

‘We’re going to let the girls name him. The rescue centre have been in the house, they like what they see, so they’ve approved the adoption, and Adam grew up with dogs so…’

We all smile because we didn’t grow up with dogs, we grew up with a Spanish mother who was slightly scared of dogs. In my mother’s own words, she didn’t need an animal in the house when she had me.

‘We had to have him neutered but he’ll be ready for Christmas, but…’ She turns to me, giving what she presumably thinks is a winning smile.

‘Why are you grimacing like that?’

‘Obviously, I can’t take the dog in the car or it’ll ruin the surprise. Flo’s car is full. Ben and Chloe are flying in to Bristol, so I was wondering if you would…’ Her voice trails off.

‘Take your doggy down to Devon?’ I ask her.

‘It’ll save us taking two cars and having to travel separately and you’re not coming down till later. It’ll mean I can go down and spend more time with Dad.’

I like hearing her beg, just a little bit, but my face gives me away. I’ll have a tiny furry little wingman! ‘Of course I’ll drive your dog. Look at his little face, he’s frigging adorable. I can’t believe you’re getting a dog. This is amazing. We can share treats, I can tell him my life story.’

‘Lucky puppy,’ Flo says, dryly. I narrow my eyes at her.

‘We’ve got a small crate for the car, all the accessories. I just need you to get him there in time for Christmas Day. You can do that, right?’

I scan the doubt in her tone, and it stings, as much as I try to ignore it. Why does she ask me if she doesn’t think I’m capable? It’s almost like I’m a last resort, like she’s expecting things to go wrong when I’m in charge of them. I look after your kids all the time and they are alive and well. Yes, there was that time I killed a plant when you went on holiday, the other time I waxed off one of your eyebrows and then the other time I borrowed your car and reversed it into a lamppost, but I generally show up for you two and I bring the fun that you have forgotten how to have.

‘I could give Martin a call! Maybe he could deliver the puppy and the illusion will be complete?’ I joke.

‘Yeah, don’t do that. Please.’

I tap my fingers together to make it look like I’m plotting.