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Cold Cuts and Christmas Cocktails

G. B. Ralph

‘Arthur,’ I said.

He blinked and turned to look at me, his eyes wide and knuckles white on the steering wheel. ‘Yes?’

‘The light’s green.’

He whipped his head back to the front and put his foot down. ‘Sorry, I…’

Arthur often got lost in his thoughts, but I’d never seen him as distracted as he was today. That wouldn’t normally be an issue, except it kind of was while hurtling down icy streets in a couple of tonnes of steel and glass. I had to hope the airbags were in good working order. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?’ It was the second time I’d made the offer.

‘No, no. We’re almost there.’

‘OK.’ I rested what I hoped was a calming, reassuring hand on his thigh, and not something that added to his distractions.

The persistent drizzle had made it a grey day, and with the light quickly fading, visibility wasn’t the best. We’d almost rear-ended someone a little while back. They’d jumped on the brakes then belatedly indicated for half a second before swinging down a side street. I was not a stressy guy, but Arthur was preoccupied and hadn’t reacted as swiftly as I might have preferred.

The baked cheesecake balanced on my knees had survived the sharp manoeuvre, though one of the raspberries on top had thrown itself over the edge, never to be seen again. I briefly wondered how we even got raspberries at this time of year as I repositioned a few to plug the gap left behind, gently pushing them further in to prevent any more last-minute escapes. To avoid smearing the entire dessert across the dashboard, I also had a hand wrapped around the plate, ready for whatever the road might throw at us next.

Arthur ran the pads of his thumbs back and forth across the steering wheel’s grip, the movement as unrelenting as the weather. Even my earlier suggestive and explicit joke about slamming into strangers from behind fell flat – it should have drawn out a wry smile at the very least.

I knew Arthur could be a real ball of stress on an average day. But today was not an average day, and I had gone into it determined to make it as painless as I could for him. Really, I ought to be the one tying myself in knots considering I was the one meeting my boyfriend’s parents…

The dreaded in-laws.

That’s how they’re portrayed in every movie ever made, isn’t it? Though I didn’t have any first-hand experience to draw from. Denise and David sounded nice, from what Arthur said whenever he spoke about them. His mates thought they were great too. Jared saw them like a second set of parents. But Richard, his views of Denise were something more Oedipean – the way he spoke of her, as if she were his first love, utterly unrequited, and he was apparently still trying to shake his boyhood fascination with his best mate’s mum. Though, Lily – Richard’s girlfriend of years and wife of months – had made up some serious ground on that front.

All in all, Arthur’s folks sounded like good people. But truth be told, I didn’t know what to expect. Parents might be quite happy to accept their children’s friends, but boyfriends and girlfriends were a whole other kettle of fish. And my fish-self could be entering shark-infested waters, with me being none the wiser, and having nothing but a baked cheesecake and cake plate with which to defend myself.

I was still using my laboured analogy to distract myself from Arthur’s driving when we turned off the main road. We soon found ourselves deep in suburbia, taking a baffling series of lefts and rights, with every property looking much like every other on every street. We were mice in a maze. Though, a festive and cheerily lit maze, with strings of lights, shrubbery loaded with shiny baubles, troops of reindeer, and jolly Santas climbing up roofs and down chimneys.

‘Here we are,’ Arthur said, his voice apprehensive as he pulled up outside a house that appeared to distinguish itself from its neighbours by having even more Christmas decorations.

I hated to see him wound so tight, but I knew nothing I said would get through. Instead, I gave his thigh a brief squeeze while wearing what I hoped was a gentle, reassuring smile. Arthur looked pained, yet appreciative – probably the best I could manage at this point.

I looked up at Arthur’s parents’ house. This was no token effort fuelled by whatever committee took it upon themselves to inspire a festive spirit in the local residents. No, the shrubs in the front section were decked out like Christmas trees with a bright star atop each. Reindeer and woodland creatures lined the path leading up to the wreath on the front door, dioramas in the windows to either side. It was a whole thing.

Arthur had little time to collect himself, as no sooner had we pulled to a stop than the wreath burst into motion, threatening to throw itself off the door – much like my raspberries – as an older, female version of Arthur flew through. ‘Dave, they’re here! The boys are here!’

She was screaming the house down as she powered over to the driveway, wrapping Arthur up in the biggest, tightest hug, her head tucked under his chin and her arms around him. Tears streamed from them both, their gush of words tripping over each other as they tried to get them out.

This was the first time Arthur had seen his parents since they’d got back from their extended trip, but more importantly, the first time since he’d told them he was gay. He hadn’t been able to hold off any longer and had to tell them over the phone. There had been tears and laughter and proclamations of love and all that at the time too. He’d asked me to be there for moral support, though only from the next room. He couldn’t do it with anyone in sight, but also couldn’t do it alone. Arthur had practically floated after getting off the phone, and I was so happy for him.

But that was weeks ago. And in the hours leading up to this point today, all his old worries had flooded back in. Not only that, now he had new worries, such as introducing his boyfriend to his parents. When many guys first did this kind of thing in their teens or early twenties – though, more often than not, by taking a girl home – Arthur hadn’t. He had never done this before. Was he more nervous about me meeting them? Or them meeting me? Or just them seeing him in all his newly exposed gayness without the separation of the phone line?

Arthur and his mother were still melting all over each other as I balanced the cake plate in one hand and shut the passenger door behind me with the other.

I looked up towards the house to find a big, broad man filling the front door, his wild eyebrows drawn together, and an equally thick moustache presiding over lips drawn into a thin line. His eyes darted over the scene, made a quick assessment of all the fuss – that is, his son and wife falling to bits – then thundered towards me.

‘You must be Gabriel,’ he said, his voice deeper even than the crunch of gravel as he approached, ham-like hand shooting out.

I now had the dessert balanced precariously on my left forearm, the cake plate jammed into my upper arm with fingers curled around the other side. But the moment the intimidating man took my other hand, he beamed. His slug of a moustache leapt up to expose a smile that reached all the way to his eyes, familiar in their shade of green.

‘That’s me,’ I said, a little unnecessarily, but what else could I say. I smiled back. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Fenwick.’

‘Call me Dave.’ His smile widened as he gripped my hand, pumping my arm with enthusiasm. I wasn’t as lean of a bean as Arthur, but still, my whole body rocked with the shake, my grip on the cake plate starting to slip, edging ever closer to the point of no return. Dave noticed just in time as he released his grip and swooped in to save the dessert as I over-corrected and nearly dashed Rudolph with raspberries and baked cheesecake.

Imagine if that had been the introduction – what a first impression. I might as well have turned up empty handed, and who does that? Especially at Christmas. I hadn’t bought gifts for anyone – except for Arthur, of course. I’d already given him his gift. Though, I suspect he was more interested in expressing his gratitude for the gift than the actual gift itself. All I’ll say is that his appreciation was selfless, enthusiastic, and also well received.

What did you get people you’ve never met before? I wasn’t even entirely sure who was going to be there. No, best just to bring food, or a bottle of wine.

‘Sorry about that,’ Dave said, somehow looking sheepish despite his stature.

‘David! What have you done? Let the boy be,’ Arthur’s mother said, reluctantly relinquishing her son as she came around the front of the car. ‘Assaulting this poor young man… Oh my.’ Denise batted her husband aside, then stood just looking me up and down. ‘Oh, my, my, my. Arthur’ – she glanced back over at her son, eyes flashing – ‘goodness me. I can see now why you’ve been too busy lately to stop by and visit your folks. He’s—’

‘Mum!’ Nothing like an embarrassing parent to bring out the petulant child in all of us. I struggled to hide my smirk.

‘Yes, Denise. Let the boy be,’ Dave said, looking rather pleased with himself as he quoted his wife’s words back at her.

She turned to scold her husband before spotting the cheesecake in his hands, her eyes widening as she looked back my way. ‘Did you bake this, sweet?’

‘Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know what to bring, and I didn’t know what the plans were for dinner. It should keep in the fridge—’

‘Rubbish and nonsense. You really didn’t have to do that, not at all. But I would certainly never turn down a cheesecake as lovely as this. Just look at it, would you?’

Dave did as instructed.

‘Careful, darling. Careful. Don’t tip it like that. No,’ Arthur’s mother said to her husband before turning back to me, ‘it’s just that I am surprised is all. I appear to have become accustomed to my own lazy louts showing up, knife and fork in hand demanding to know when dinner will be ready.’

I smiled, knowing already that I liked this woman, so much like my own mother. ‘Well, I’m just glad I wasn’t being too presumptuous.’

‘Oh, not at all, don’t be silly. Hours in the kitchen and it all gets wolfed down in minutes? No, I can’t be too precious, can I?’

‘Denise and I get those half-prepared meal boxes most weeks now.’

‘Yes, we do. Everything dropped off on Sunday evening for the next week’s meals.’

‘Takeaways too, sometimes,’ Dave said. ‘Now the kids are out of the house.’

‘But anyway, what I’m saying is, don’t you worry about stepping on my toes – I don’t get my knickers in a twist that easily. If it means less work for me, have at it! You are most welcome to do the roast next year too, if you like?’

‘Mum!’

‘Yes, yes. Calm yourself, sweet. And of course we’ll be having this tonight.’

She stopped again to admire my dessert. With all this attention and praise, I was starting to wish I’d put more effort in. Maybe elevated my dessert game with a tiramisu or lemon meringue pie or something?

‘I was only going to throw together a rhubarb crumble or something later, maybe some custard too – nothing fancy. But with this I can put my feet up, have a wine.’

‘I’m glad,’ I said, and I meant it. ‘We’ve got a couple of bottles in the car—’

‘Oh my… Arthur?’ Denise said, summoning her son to her side. ‘Arthur, I really am rather disappointed in you.’

‘What?’ he said, the look of alarm crashing back down over his features once more. ‘Why?’

‘Keeping Gabriel away from us all this time.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Arthur said, trying to act put out, but I could see he was too relieved to pull it off convincingly. ‘It hasn’t been that long. Besides, you and Dad have been off sipping margaritas by the pool, cruising the Mediterranean.’

‘Spending your inheritance?’ Dave said, that unruly moustache of his curved up in a smile along with his raised eyebrows. ‘Is that what you’re worried about, boy?’

‘Oh no,’ Arthur said, laughing. ‘I’m not banking on any of that coming my way in the end.’

‘Too right, we’ll be spending every last penny before we kick the bucket.’

‘And so you should.’

‘All right, you lot,’ Denise said, clapping her hands once. ‘I don’t know why we’re loitering out here in the freezing cold – let’s get inside. Arthur, Dave, you get the bags. Gabriel, sweet, you grab that cheesecake of yours and bring it inside. I’ll get us a wine.’

***

The smell and the warmth of the roast hit the moment I stepped inside, enveloping me like a big, culinary Christmas hug. My mouth was already watering in anticipation.

‘Now, did you want a wine? I just opened this bottle of Chardonnay – it’s Australian, but that’s OK.’ Arthur’s mum topped up her own glass before pouring a fresh one – well beyond the level you’d get in a restaurant or bar – then handed it to me.

‘Yeah, that’d be great,’ I said, accepting the glass, as if I’d had any choice in the matter. I wasn’t huge on Chardonnay, but I wasn’t about to say that, was I? The wine was a deep, rich yellow, like it hadn’t been drinking enough water lately. And that thought immediately made me even more reluctant to drink it.

‘Thanks, Mrs Fenwick—’

‘Denise, call me Denise,’ she said, patting my forearm. ‘We’re all adults here, and I can’t be having Arthur’s man addressing me like some stranger off the street. No, not when we’re in my kitchen.’ Her eyes shone, the creases to each side evidence of decades of full-face smiles. It seemed this entire family weren’t too shy to show a bit of tooth sometimes.

‘Cheers,’ I said, clinking my glass with Denise’s.

‘Cheers!’ She took a sip that might be more accurately described as a gulp, set down her glass on the bench and beamed up at me. ‘I am just so pleased, so pleased our Arthur has found someone. And just look at—’

‘Mum!’ Arthur passed along the hallway, bags in hand, his dad following with my suitcase and the bottles of wine. ‘Don’t interrogate him!’

‘I am doing no such thing. And mind your own business besides. I’m only talking about you.’

‘Not while I’m not there to defend myself! Gabriel, cover your ears.’ Arthur’s disembodied voice came down from the top of the landing as doors crashed open and bags were dropped in a hurry before footsteps stomped back down.

‘Chardonnay, dear?’ Denise said, unperturbed as Arthur thundered into the kitchen. She held up the bottle and another fresh glass.

‘Oh, no. Mum, gross,’ Arthur said, eyeing the glass already in my hand with concern. I shrugged in response, took a sip, and was pleasantly surprised to find it was quite good.

‘It’s modern,’ Denise said. ‘A fresher flavour, not buttery and oaky like the Chardonnays of old. That’s what the lady in the wine aisle at the supermarket said, anyway. I had a taste right there – little shot glasses with wine samples in them, would you believe? Giving them away, and at ten o’clock on a Tuesday morning. Well, let me tell you, after my third taster I felt obliged to buy a bottle or two, didn’t I?’

‘I’m sure.’ Arthur looked around the bench. ‘What’s Dad having?’

‘He’ll have some of this too. Quite likes it, he does.’

‘Oh, go on then,’ Arthur said, gracelessly accepting a glass before we all moved into the living area.

The fire was crackling away, radiating some serious heat. Family photos, pot plants and candles lined the shelves and cabinets, a landscape painting hung on one wall, a large decorative clock on another. And amongst all the usual family living room paraphernalia was an abundance of festive bits and bobs, more strings of lights, and decorative pine cone creations wrapped in tinsel and coated in fake snow.

But the headliner had to be the Christmas tree. A real pine tree, loaded with ornaments, more tinsel, more lights – all a complete jumble, no sense of order or theme. A good few of the decorations looked very handmade. Note to self: ask Denise which ones were the product of a young Arthur’s hand.

And to top off the merry decorative mishmash, they had a bright gold star. Though it was rather skew-whiff, pressed against the ceiling and tipped to the side.

‘Dave picked out the tree,’ Denise said after she saw me admiring it.

‘It didn’t look quite so big in the field when we picked it out.’

‘But we couldn’t chop any more off the bottom of the trunk or the presents wouldn’t fit underneath.’

I could see what she meant. Boxes were piled high, with wrapping paper and ribbons that were just as extra as the decorations throughout the house and the front section.

‘It’s a good one,’ I said, and I wasn’t just saying that to butter up the in-laws.

‘Yes.’ Dave nodded, a serious expression on his face. ‘Thick, symmetrical, lots of branches to hang things on. There’s one rough patch, but I made sure to have that facing against the wall, out of sight.’

‘We’re taking a tape measure next year,’ Denise said.

‘Right you are, dear.’

Arthur directed me to the couch, sitting at my side to cut off his mother before she could get in there too. He took a sip of wine to mask his triumph. But then he frowned, pursing his lips the moment he tasted the Chardonnay. The reaction was not in distaste – no, for Arthur, the situation was much worse. I could see he’d realised that he actually quite liked the wine too, and the stubborn bastard couldn’t bring himself to concede as much to his mother.

I thought I’d play to my audience, have some fun at Arthur’s expense and score some brownie points in the process. ‘So, how do you like it, then?’ I said, twirling the wine in my glass.

‘It’s… it’s quite good.’

‘What was that, dear?’ Denise said, smirking as she took a seat in the nearest armchair, Dave settling himself in the other.

‘The wine is good, Mum, OK?’

‘Yes, I know it is. That’s why I bought it.’ She raised her glass in a toast to her victory and took a sip.

They’d had barely a heartbeat of silence before Arthur’s mother was on her feet again.

‘How do we feel about margaritas?’ she said, already making her way over to the kitchen’s island bench.

‘Mum, we just sat down.’

‘Of course. And you deserve a sit-down after all your labours, lugging those bags up the stairs.’ Denise waved away Arthur’s protests. ‘Don’t you worry yourself, I’ll make them. You reminded me before, and now I can’t get them out of my head. It’ll be like we’re back on the cruise ship, won’t it, darling?’

‘Sure will,’ Dave said, smiling as he sipped the wine he’d only just started.

‘Doesn’t really fit with the near-freezing temperatures outside, the fire blazing in here, does it?’ Arthur said.

‘Squirt, you know your mother. Doesn’t let something silly like things supposedly “going together” stop her. Why not have a roast dinner in summer? Barbeque in winter? Red wine with a chicken salad? White wine with a steak? Tomato ketchup on fresh salmon?’

Denise loaded up the cocktail shaker with ice, pouring in measures of tequila, orange liqueur, and lime juice. ‘Besides,’ she said, ‘it’s Christmas! We don’t have anywhere to drive, and I don’t expect I’ll be operating any other heavy machinery either. So I’ll have a few drinks, thank you very much. It’s almost like being on holiday again.’

‘Don’t forget that we’re celebrating, dear,’ Dave called out to his wife in the kitchen.

‘What’s that, darling?’

‘Our son bringing his man to meet the parents.’

‘Oh, yes! If that doesn’t deserve a toast then I don’t know what does,’ Denise said, setting the top on the cocktail shaker and making a show of shaking it over one shoulder, then the other.

While his wife crashed about preparing the drinks, Arthur’s father turned to me. ‘So, Gabriel,’ he said, his face grave and his attention spearing me with its intensity as much as the abrupt shift in mood. ‘What are your intentions with our boy?’

Arthur dropped his head into his hands. ‘Don’t you start, Dad.’

‘Only the most honourable, Mr Fenwick.’

Arthur’s father’s gaze kept me locked in place. The unruly eyebrows I’d previously thought so wild and devil-may-care now looked more like thorny bushes over his piercing green eyes. But then one eyebrow shot up and the intensity immediately dropped. ‘Well, my boy, I certainly hope they’re not too honourable—’

Arthur’s head flew out of his hands. ‘Dad!’

‘What? You’re young men, at the peak of—’

‘Dad!’

‘Got to let the scoundrel out sometimes. Your mother and I, we—’

‘Nope,’ Arthur said, shaking his head. ‘Nuh-uh, we’re not doing this.’

‘Oh, mate. You’ve got to relax, enjoy yourself. You’ll do yourself an injury.’

‘Yeah, about that—’

‘Oh, your mother mentioned. Much too young to be having injuries like that. How’s your back doing now? Probably shouldn’t have had you lugging bags upstairs, come to think of it…’

‘Dad, it’s fine, really.’

‘And I hear we have Gabriel to thank for your swift recovery?’

I raised my glass in acknowledgement. ‘It was no chore, I assure you.’

‘See, squirt?’ Dave said, smiling as he eased back into the plush lounger. ‘Sounds like your man knows how to enjoy himself. Here’s hoping some of that will rub off on you, one way or the other.’ Arthur’s dad’s eyebrows were alive with amusement, and Arthur’s head was back in his hands. His parents wound him up as much as his mates, if not more.

‘I do my best, and as often as Arthur will have me,’ I said, thinking I might as well get in one more quip at the expense of my Arthur’s dignity, help solidify Dave’s position in support of my candidacy for the role of his son’s boyfriend. Arthur’s head shot out of his hands, wearing a look of utter betrayal.

‘That’s my boys!’ Dave bellowed with laughter.

I smiled, but perhaps I ought to remind Arthur that I was, of course, on his team – a kind comment or two to stop him feeling picked on, bolster his ego? I settled with resting a hand on his knee again, hoping this would communicate enough for the time being. It was all a part of Operation Charm The In-Laws, an exercise that would hopefully make family get-togethers a pleasant, enjoyable experience well into the future.

I knew keeping secrets from those important to you could be scary, and coming out, dispelling those secrets, that was a whole new level of terrifying. But I don’t think I’d ever come across a pair so liberated and easy-going as Arthur’s parents. How had Arthur wound up so… well, so wound up? Perhaps it was like children who rebelled against strict and overbearing parents, but the opposite?

Had the fact that his parents had breezed past acceptance and leapt right ahead to fully embracing been too jarring for Arthur? Too much of a shift and also much too swift? Or was it just the usual level of discomfort people tended to have around the topic of sex and their parents?

Arthur gave me a small smile in return and patted my hand – it seemed he had an idea what I was doing after all. But then, not knowing what else to do with his hand while his father sat across from him, he picked up his glass and downed the second half of his wine in one great gulp. I watched the lump in his throat bob up and down and rather inappropriately felt myself getting a little warm.

‘Did you hear that, love?’ Dave said as his wife bustled back over to the living area, a tray loaded with four rather professional-looking margaritas.

Denise set the tray down and handed me a short, stout glass filled with ice and cloudy, pale green liquid, garnished with a lime wedge and a salted rim. ‘Here you are, sweetheart.’

‘Looks amazing, thank you.’

‘It is my pleasure.’ Denise flashed me a smile, then turned back to her husband. ‘Now, what did I hear?’

‘Our worries about Arthur appear to be unfounded,’ Dave said, accepting his glass with a wink. ‘I have just learnt that Gabriel here has been sorting him—’

‘Dad!’

‘Arthur,’ Denise said as only a mother can, whipping around to face him before presenting him with his margarita. ‘Here’s yours. Take a sip of that. And don’t interrupt your father when he’s speaking to me.’

‘Yes, Mum. And thanks.’

‘That’s quite all right,’ she said, finally reclaiming her seat, margarita in hand.

‘Never mind,’ Dave said. ‘We shouldn’t embarrass the boy any more.’

‘I’ll toast to that,’ Arthur said with enforced cheer, raising his glass.

‘I don’t know about that,’ Denise said. ‘But I am pleased you’re both here. And you can tell me later, dear, once the boys have gone up to bed.’

‘Well, yes,’ Dave said, his eyebrows back in action as he wrapped his lips and moustache around his cocktail. ‘It’s on that very topic that I—’

Arthur cleared his throat. Dave looked his way, amused. Denise just looked unimpressed.

‘Uh,’ Arthur said, ‘when are Matt and Emily due?’

‘Yes,’ Denise said, setting down her glass and getting up again. ‘Where did I put my phone? I was expecting them before you boys. Oh, I hope they haven’t got caught up in—’

Ding dong.

‘Ah! That’ll be them. What perfect timing.’

‘Perfect, indeed.’ Dave barked out a laugh and shook his head. ‘You couldn’t make this stuff up.’

I had kind of hoped Arthur and I would be the last to arrive. Sure, meeting all the Fenwicks all at once would be intimidating, but in some respects that might have been easier than them being drip-fed one at a time. This way I had to deal with the focused attention from each individual, the heightened scrutiny of the guy banging their son. But perhaps the opposite was true, and I’d be better equipped to deal with each one as they came – divide and conquer? It’s not like we had a choice anyway, so it was scarcely worth thinking about.

And if the experience so far was anything to go by, I ought to be more worried for Arthur. If his siblings were anything like his parents, I feared his night of embarrassment had only just begun.

We were all on our feet as Denise went to open the front door.

‘No welcoming committee out front? What are we, chopped liver?’ With a voice that somehow landed between Dave’s and Arthur’s, this had to be Arthur’s older brother. ‘And I see you’ve all started without us? Margaritas, no less. How – uh – how unseasonable.’

‘Oh, Matthew, just get inside, will you? We were busy getting to know Gabriel.’ She said my name like she was confiding a juicy morsel of gossip as her eldest son wrapped her in a hug. I saw Matt’s head stick up above his mother’s and lock eyes with me for a moment, then glance at his brother and smile before relinquishing his mother. ‘Take those bags upstairs, you two are in your old room. And hello, Leah, dear. I don’t know how you put up with that son of ours.’

‘He’s a lucky man,’ Matt’s wife said as she went in for the hug too.

‘And she’s sure to remind me at every opportunity,’ Matt said, calling out from halfway up the stairs.

‘So she should,’ Denise said. ‘And did you pick up your sister on your way?’

Matt huffed, already on his way back downstairs. ‘It’s why we’re so late. Had to rearrange the car to make room for Boris.’

‘Oh no, she didn’t bring him, did she?’ Who was Boris? Friend? New boyfriend? Whoever he was, Denise sounded appalled. When Arthur gave me the family run down, he hadn’t mentioned a Boris. ‘And where does she think he is going to sleep?’

‘With her, in her room, I expect,’ Matt said.

‘Not on my watch!’

I glanced down at my drink, wondering if new boyfriends were forbidden from sharing bedrooms with the household’s adult offspring? Nothing else said so far this evening had suggested that would be the case – the opposite, in fact.

My brief moment of confusion was cleared up the moment an excitable and ungainly Chocolate Labrador came bustling in, to Arthur’s delight and Denise’s horror.

Arthur dropped to his knees and scratched behind the dog’s ears, rubbed his hands along the dog’s sides and patted his flanks. ‘How’s my Boris? Yes, how are you, boy? Ew! No, no kisses. No! Yes, who’s the best?’ Arthur looked up at me, eyes alight and smile wide. Boris took advantage of the distraction and swiped Arthur across the cheek with a slobbery tongue. ‘Oh, yuck! Stop it.’ Arthur got himself upright, still smiling despite his protestations.

‘Looks like I have competition,’ I said.

‘Jealous of Boris, are we?’ Arthur smiled and took a sip from my drink, his tongue trailing up the salted rim as he pulled away. He pitched his voice low so only I could hear. ‘Don’t worry, you’re a much better kisser.’

I couldn’t help smiling.

‘And more besides, I hope?’ Matt said, popping up between me and Arthur.

Arthur squealed and shoved his brother, sniffing loudly as he jutted out his chin to cover his surprise. ‘That’s none of—’

‘And how’s Gabriel’s rim?’ Matt said, eyebrow raised as he nodded at my glass. ‘Sweet or salty?’

Arthur’s face went slack, mortified by the implications of his brother’s words, before he flushed red, unable to form any kind of response.

I rested my hand on Arthur’s hip and looked at Matt. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

Matt smiled wider and waggled his eyebrows. ‘You can tell us all about it over dinner.’

Arthur scowled as his brother stalked off in search of a drink behind his wife, and Boris plonked his butt down on Arthur’s foot, his tail thwapping against my leg. I gave him a shrug and an encouraging smile. Arthur sighed and reached down to pat the dog.

A moment later, a woman breezed in, dumping her bag in the doorway, and wiping the loose tangle of hair from her face. She was a few years younger than Arthur, but the family resemblance was undeniable – the face, the eyes, the wide and open smile. But the way she moved was so different, like she didn’t have a care in the world. ‘Mother, father,’ she said, hands on her hips, ‘your favourite child is home.’

‘Yes, hello, Emily,’ Denise said, rolling the eyes of the long-suffering as she wrapped her daughter up in a brief hug. ‘Now get this animal outside, will you?’

‘Mum, I gave him a bath this morning, especially.’

‘He does smell very clean—’

‘Don’t you start, Arthur.’

‘And he’s much better trained now than he was at our last visit. He even graduated from puppy preschool.’

‘He destroyed my favourite pair of—’

‘Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve trained him to only chew ugly shoes now.’

‘That does—’

‘I’m joking! Geez, Mum. Relax, will you? It’s Christmas! Hi, Dad.’

‘Hello, sweetie.’

‘Brother,’ Emily said, her grin growing predatory as she pulled back from her hug with Arthur. ‘And this must be Gabriel?’

‘Nice to meet you,’ I said, putting my hand out only to have it batted aside as Emily came in to hug me too. She squeezed hard, then pulled back and rested a hand on my chest, using the other to punch her brother in the shoulder.

‘Ow! What was—’

‘Well done, brother,’ Emily said, smiling from Arthur to me, then back again. ‘He’s hot.’

‘Em!’

She only shrugged. ‘Looks like our little goody two-shoes must’ve impressed Santa this year – you scored the jackpot.’

‘I really did,’ Arthur said before glancing my way and flushing red all over again.

‘Come on, where I can keep an eye on you,’ Emily said, shepherding us into the living area. ‘We’d better let Mum feed us or she’ll rupture something.’

‘I heard that.’

‘Oops.’ Arthur’s sister grimaced. ‘I mean – uh – I hope we didn’t hold up dinner too long.’

‘Nice try, Emily. Come and help me put these dishes on the table.’

‘Mum,’ Emily said, drawing it out like a petulant child. ‘I just got here.’

‘That is quite enough of that – you’re closer to thirty than thirteen, act like it.’ Denise stood behind the kitchen bench, wielding a serving spoon. ‘Perhaps if you’d arrived when your other brother did, then you could’ve had a cocktail first.’

‘Fine.’ Emily stomped over to the bench and started transferring dishes to the centre of the dining table.

‘And Matthew?’

‘Yes, mother dearest.’

‘Don’t you bloody start.’ She dropped the bottle of red wine and corkscrew on the bench. ‘Open that cab sauv, will you? Is that more seasonally appropriate for your royal highness?’

‘Perfect!’

‘I dare say it will be. We’re having roast lamb—’

‘For Christmas dinner?’ Matt said as he worked the corkscrew in, almost tipping over the bottle in his shock.

‘Would you prefer a Christmas ham? And be stuck eating cold cuts for weeks? Or some dry, awful turkey, perhaps?’

‘Well, yes, that would be quite—’

‘And I suppose you’ve got one out in your car then, do you?’ Denise said, staring down one of her adult children for the second time in as many minutes. ‘Hmm?’

Matt smiled sheepishly. ‘I am sure the lamb will be delicious.’

‘We’ll see if you deserve any… Seeing as you’re so fixated on traditionally festive dishes, you can help yourself to a nice bowl of Brussels sprouts. You ought to be safe from scurvy with that lot. I might let you have a roast potato if you behave yourself, and even a drop of gravy…’

‘Sorry, Mum,’ Matt said as he finally pulled the cork.

‘That’s better,’ Denise said. ‘As penance you can pour me some of that red – it can air in my glass. Gabriel, Arthur, would you boys like one too?’ Then before either of us could respond, she told Matt to pour us a glass anyway.

The air thickened with the rich, delicious smells of roast meat and vegetables as they were pulled from the oven and arranged on serving dishes. Meanwhile, I kept out of the way, chatting to Dave about pleasant, inoffensive and evergreen topics such as traffic and the weather. Matt and Arthur hovered in the kitchen, ostensibly helping their mother finalise dinner but in reality helping themselves to the little crunchy roast potato bits and anything else they could nab with their fingers whenever she had her back turned.

Boris had taken up residence with his backside on my left foot, his weight leant against my leg, his snout snuffling, globs of drool hanging from his cheeks and puppy dog eyes trained on the kitchen bench. His desire was obvious as he occasionally jolted forwards before settling back down again – Emily had trained him well. I reached down and scratched his head, ready to grab his collar in case it all got too much and he decided he needed to ‘help’ in the kitchen after all. It seemed Denise was willing to tolerate the animal in the house, for now, but I knew she’d be ready for any excuse to exile him to the cold outside.

‘All right, dinner time,’ Denise said, setting the lamb dish in the centre of the table. ‘Boys, you’re over here. Matthew, you can sit next to your father – I’ve put the Brussels sprouts there, just for you. Leah, you can take the seat next to me, if you like – I’ve put all the tastiest and least calorie-conscious dishes right next to us. And darling, where’s that daughter of yours?’

‘She’s your daughter too…’

‘Not when she’s bringing uninvited guests to Christmas dinner she’s not.’ Denise shot a glance at the dog then took her seat and fussed over Leah beside her.

I quietly shuffled Boris over to the corner by the couch and told him to sit. I didn’t know where the upper threshold of his training was, but it was worth a shot – I couldn’t bear to see him kicked outside. He appeared even more eager to join as everyone sat at the dining table, but he held his ground.

Arthur had a seat out for me when I returned, smiling as I sat down next to him.

‘Emily!’ Denise was already halfway out of her chair when Emily came into the dining area a moment later looking smug. ‘What have you been doing?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You better not have been shaking the presents.’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘You know the rules – you touch it, you lose it.’

‘I didn’t touch any of them,’ Emily said, insistent but still smiling as she took her seat.

‘She was blowing under the labels to lift them up and read the names,’ Matt said, smirking at his sister.

‘I wasn’t touching them though, was I?’

‘Unbelievable,’ Denise said, huffing out a breath. ‘You haven’t been home for half an hour and have already reverted to little children.’

‘Emily,’ Dave said, ‘stop being clever. It’s the vibe of the thing, and you know it.’

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘And Matthew?’

‘Mm?’ Matt said, already chewing on something.

‘Leave your sister alone. Besides, nobody likes a nark.’

‘Fine.’

‘Now, before we start,’ Dave said, ‘I would like to raise a toast to your mother, my wife, for pulling together this wonderful dinner. Thank you, as always, darling.’

We all cheered, raised a glass, took a sip, and had started picking up our cutlery when Dave cleared his throat – the man had more to say.

‘Thank you, my children, for being here. It’s so nice to have everyone back under one roof again. Leah, you’re much too good for our Matthew, but we welcome you nonetheless.’

‘Hey!’

‘I appreciate that, Dave,’ Leah said, patting her husband’s hand and offering a calming smile.

‘My pleasure,’ Arthur’s father said. ‘Denise and I are very proud of you two, having bought your own place this year and already making it into your home.’

‘Three bedrooms,’ Denise said, eyebrows raised. ‘Plenty of rooms to fill with the pitter patter of little grandch—’

‘All right, Mum,’ Matt said with a self-conscious laugh. ‘One step at a time. Besides, you’ve already got one grandchild – that ought to be enough for one year.’

‘What—’

‘Boris, of course,’ Matt said, to a short, sharp bark in response.

Denise rolled her eyes. ‘Right, of course.’

‘We’re very happy Boris could be here too,’ Dave said, glancing over towards the couch. ‘I’m sure there will be a mouthful or two left over that we can give him, if he behaves.’

‘He is a very good boy,’ Emily said, ‘unlike one of my brothers in particular.’

Matt coughed. ‘That’s enough about me,’ he said, raising his glass, ‘we should be focusing on Emily. Our fresh university graduate with her new grad job, kicking off that adult life… finally.’

‘Oi, no need to tack that on at the end.’

‘Yes, we are very proud, sweetheart,’ Dave said, his face glowing as he looked at his daughter.

‘And don’t forget Arthur,’ Emily said, her eyes softening as she looked at her other brother. ‘I’ve never seen you so happy. Know that I will continue to give you a hard time, but I am so proud of you.’

‘What? But I haven’t done anything.’

Matt coughed. ‘Except for Gabriel.’

Emily laughed then batted her brother. ‘Yes, that too. But I meant it in a more wholesome, family-friendly way.’

‘I second that,’ Dave said.

‘Thirded.’ That was Denise, glass raised in toast. ‘We’re so proud you’ve made this big, brave step in coming out. And so happy that you have Gabriel to share it with.’

‘Thanks Mum, Dad, Em,’ Arthur said, choking up.

‘Gabriel,’ Dave said, ‘you may come to regret it after a few days with us lot, but I want to welcome you to the family. We are thrilled to have you here with our Arthur. We haven’t known you long, my boy, but I can already see you’re a keeper.’

I could see Arthur out of the corner of my eye, his lips pressed together and eyes blinking rapidly to dispel the build-up.

‘Thanks, Dave,’ I said, quite unsure how to respond. ‘I’m happy to be here too. Thanks for having me.’

‘Yeah, Arthur,’ Matt said after a moment, not even trying to mask his chewing anymore, ‘we were starting to worry you might be having trouble, you know, downtown.’

Arthur looked about ready to hurl his plate at his brother, and I thought it might be my job to intervene. I cleared my throat, knowing this was hardly dinner table conversation, especially not in front of the in-laws, but my experience of them so far suggested they might appreciate. And I thought we might be due another round of bolstering Team Arthur. ‘No need to worry, Matt. I can confirm, that’s all very much in working order.’

Matt crowed, his eyes wide with brotherly pride. ‘Yes, that’s my little bro!’

‘OK, enough of that at the dinner table, boys,’ Denise said, but she was smiling. ‘And I think that’s enough gushing for one evening, let’s get stuck in before it goes cold.’

***

We’d devoured dinner – overstuffing ourselves as is tradition on Christmas – then cleared the dishes like responsible adults before tearing into presents very much unlike responsible adults. Following that frenzy, we lounged around digesting our dinner, some in danger of dozing off in front of the heat of the fire and the pleasant lull of wine.

I hadn’t intended to eat so much, but Denise’s roast dinner was irresistible. The lamb had been so juicy and tender, with plenty of roast potatoes, creamy sweet potatoes, gravy-doused Yorkshire puddings, sweet glazed carrots, cheesy cauliflower, and perfectly steamed broccoli. I didn’t even mind the green beans or peas, though I couldn’t bring myself to scoop any Brussels sprouts onto my plate, nor any turnips, my least favourite vegetable. My plate was already full enough without piling more on.

I knew I had a friend in Boris, if I needed to dispose of any unwanted morsels from my plate. But it was safer not to put them on my plate in the first place. I kept the dog in reserve for emergencies only as I didn’t want to start him on any bad habits. But more immediately I didn’t want to risk him barfing up any sprouts or root vegetables on the floor. That’d really seal his fate as an outside-only dog and I didn’t think I could handle the guilt.

We’d made it through the main course without incident, and my baked cheesecake went down a treat too, though none of us could squeeze in more than the thinnest slice with a dollop of whipped cream on top. Matt accused me of being a greaser for bringing dessert and Denise clipped him around the ear. ‘Worried you’ve been replaced by Gabriel in my affections?’ she said.

Matt laughed. ‘As if.’

Denise raised an eyebrow, saying not a word.

Matt stopped laughing then asked if his mother might like her glass topped up.

‘Thank you, but not right now. I need to let everything settle for a minute. I’ll be sure to let you know.’

A little later, I was alone in the kitchen getting myself a glass of water when Arthur’s brother appeared. ‘Hey, Matt.’

‘Hey, man.’

‘Are you getting Denise that wine you promised before?’

He smiled as he topped up his mum’s glass, and then his own. ‘I am – can’t have you charming yourself into the position of the most favoured son, can I?’

I laughed at that. ‘Suppose not,’ I said, then started heading off when Matt grabbed my elbow.

‘Hey, Gabriel?’ he said as he released me again, his face arranged in a way I hadn’t yet come across. Matt looked serious.

‘Uh – yeah?’

‘You’ll look after Arthur, won’t you?’ Matt said. ‘He can be an anxious guy, I’m sure you’ve noticed…’

‘I have.’

‘But it’s like Em said before, I’ve never seen him so happy, so relaxed. Even with us winding him up tonight, giving him a hard time, which is an important part of being siblings, you know?’

‘Hah, yes, I know.’

‘He seems so comfortable in his own skin, and I think you played a big part in him getting there.’

I thought about that for a moment, and smiled. ‘I think Arthur got there all by himself, perhaps with a bit of help from friends, both young and old.’

‘Maybe… Still, he had something to aim for,’ Matt said, eyes alive with mischief as he squeezed my arm. ‘If he hadn’t got his act together, he might have missed out on all this.’

I laughed. ‘Well then, it’s lucky for me that he did.’

Matt beamed then pulled me in for a hug even tighter than the one I’d had from his mum. After a final squeeze he released me, scooped up the refilled wine glasses, and headed back into the living area.

I gave myself a moment to regain my composure before I followed him back in there and dropped into my spot on the couch with Arthur.

‘—downstairs by nine for coffee and—’

‘Nine?’ Emily’s outrage caused Boris to lift his head off her lap and scan the room for the threat to his human. ‘I’m on holiday. Getting up that early is practically child abuse.’

‘It’s not early, and you’re not a child, so suck it up, sunshine,’ Denise said, before accepting her glass from Matt. ‘Thank you, sweetheart.’

‘Downstairs by nine,’ Dave said, backing up his wife. ‘Then we’ll head off for our traditional Fenwick family Boxing Day walk. Stretch our legs, get some fresh air, then we’ll be ready to do it all over again.’

‘We’ve got leftovers for at least a couple of days,’ Denise said, nodding with half-closed eyes. ‘Unless that walking garbage disposal gets into the fridge and eats it all overnight, that is.’

‘Oh, come off it, Mum. Boris is a good boy,’ Emily said, which set Boris’ tail to swishing discarded wrapping paper back and forth. ‘And he’s clever too, but he hasn’t learnt how to open the fridge yet – I’m hoping to avoid that one, to be fair…’ Emily trailed off yawning, barely able to get the words out.

‘Right, bed time for you, young lady,’ Denise said. ‘No excuses to not be up bright and early.’

‘No chance of sleeping in – Boris will make sure I’m up.’

‘Maybe he’s not so bad after all,’ Denise said, stifling a yawn of her own.

‘Did everyone hear that?’ Emily said, getting to her feet. ‘Come on, Boris. Let’s go to bed before Mum changes her mind.’

‘Goodnight, sweetheart.’

She trailed her hand along the arm of the couch as she walked past, punching Arthur on the shoulder again.

‘Hey! What the—’

‘Well done, brother,’ Emily said, winking at us both. ‘He’s hot.’

Arthur huffed out. ‘You already said that.’

‘Just reminding you.’

‘I hardly need reminding,’ Arthur said, and smiling in such a way that suggested he was trying to hold it in.

‘He’s nice too. I love that for you,’ Emily said, patting Arthur on the head as she left the room.

‘Thanks, sis,’ Arthur said before turning to me. ‘Are you ready to head up too?’

‘Yeah, sure. I am more than ready for sleep,’ I said, barely suppressing a yawn of my own. I’d nod off if I stayed there on the couch much longer, cosily tucked in at Arthur’s side.

Arthur pushed himself up off the couch before putting a hand out to me. I took it and let him pull me up to a cluck from Denise and a scoff from Matt lounging at the other end of the couch with Leah.

‘Make sure you do get some sleep,’ Matt said, ‘and don’t be making too much noise while you’re at it.’

‘Oh, leave them alone,’ Leah said, prodding her husband in the stomach.

‘Oi, you leave me alone. I’m about to pop.’

‘I can see that.’

‘We’re in my old room next to you two,’ Matt said. ‘I’ll need all the rest I can get if I’m going to manage this walk of Dad’s tomorrow, so keep the headboard banging to a min—’

I cleared my throat, ignored Arthur’s brother and turned to his parents. ‘Thank you for dinner, it was delicious.’

‘That is no trouble at all,’ Denise said. ‘Thank you for bringing dessert.’

‘And thanks for having me,’ I said, unable to stop myself glancing at Arthur and smiling.

‘You are very welcome,’ Dave said, his moustache curling up into a smile over his top lip as he nodded once. ‘Night, boys.’

***

Face splashed and teeth brushed, I made my way back along the hallway to Arthur’s room. I stepped in to find the room dark, the only light coming from the shifting pattern of colourful Christmas lights outside, their vibrancy dampened by the thick curtains. Then I saw Arthur already tucked in bed, the pool of artificial light from his phone illuminating his face.

‘Lights off already, is it?’

Arthur chuckled. ‘You have entered my childhood bedroom. I’m not ready for you to see all this – the posters, the books, everything. I’ve got to save some embarrassment for tomorrow, haven’t I?’

‘I suppose so,’ I said, smiling as I fought the urge to flick the light switch and see it all right this second.

He turned his phone around, throwing the screen’s light my way as I shed my clothes. ‘Hurry up and get in here.’

I smiled wider and climbed in next to Arthur on a bed that was a fair bit smaller than we were used to.

‘You know,’ I said, ‘Matt really has nothing to worry about regarding any headboard banging.’

‘Not if you’re as bloated as I am right now.’

‘I think I’m worse.’ I laughed. ‘I’d be worried I’d get motion sickness, bring up all that dinner and wine. What a mess, can you imagine?’

‘Not what Matt had in mind when he told us to keep it down.’

I laughed again, prompted by that perfect combination of a full stomach, a warm buzz from the wine, and the utter contentment of being in Arthur’s company. ‘It would make this Christmas unforgettable, that’s for sure.’

Arthur turned onto his side and shuffled over to rest his head next to mine on my pillow. His hands reached up to either side of my face, bringing it in front of his own. ‘It already is unforgettable.’

‘In a good way, I hope?’ I said, resting my forehead against his.

‘In the best way.’ He sighed as he leant back against the pillow and stared up at the dark ceiling, idly trailing his hand up and down my side.

I said nothing, only watched. His brow, nose, lips and chin silhouetted against the curtain as he blinked slowly, his breathing calming.

Then into the silent darkness, easy and unselfconscious, like he hadn’t really thought it through or intended to voice it aloud, Arthur said, ‘I love you.’

I couldn’t help stiffening at the words, not due to what they meant, but just from hearing them so unexpectedly.

‘Oh!’ Arthur said, whipping his head around as he propped himself on his elbow. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew the look of horror that must be there. ‘I – uh – I didn’t mean – well I did mean it, but I didn’t mean to—’

‘Arthur,’ I said, wishing more than anything that he would be quiet, that I could see him properly, and that he could see me right back. I knew it’d help dispel his anxiety, convince him I meant what I was about to say. ‘I love you too.’

Then, to silence any further potential rambling or protest, I pulled him in close and pressed my lips to his. The moment he relaxed into the kiss, I pulled back. ‘Did you think I’d brave Christmas dinner with the in-laws if I didn’t love you?’

‘I suppose not.’ Arthur laughed. ‘I don’t know why I put off telling them for so long…’

‘We all have to do it in our own time,’ I said, planting a peck of a kiss on his forehead.

‘I’m glad you came.’

‘I’m glad I came, too,’ I said, and I realised I meant it. Just like Arthur had put off coming out to all the people most important to him, I had put off properly committing to something or someone, anything vaguely relationship-flavoured. But now I had, with Arthur, and it was so worth it. ‘I love you, Arthur.’

‘I know you do,’ he said. ‘I mean, how could you not?’

I rolled over on top of him, pinning him down with my knees to either side of his waist, his hands trapped in mine. ‘You arrogant little—’

Arthur shot his head up, locking his lips onto mine to shut me up, as I had done only moments earlier. I smiled at the press of his lips. Then when he dropped his head back onto the pillow, breaking contact, I knew I couldn’t let him get away with that.

I thought again how this bed was smaller than was suitable for two fully grown men, but that just meant I had to get in closer, which was absolutely fine by me.

I smiled down at Arthur and dived in for a proper kiss.

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The Milverton Mysteries has all the fun of the Rise and Shine series, just with a little added murder!

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