It was Jeffery who’d wrangled a position for her at the enormous accountancy firm in which he was a senior partner. She was now secretary for twenty-five hours of the week to Norman who really did look like a Norman with his little round glasses, small build and shiny domed head. She wasn’t a very good secretary but she was trying and Norman was a very kind hearted man so, they were rubbing along nicely. Stephanie had helped her source her flat which while tiny was in the right location and meant Noah didn’t have to change schools. She’d even started doing her yoga teacher training and the other night when she’d gotten up to draw the curtains and seen a star shooting across the inky sky, she’d made a wish that one day soon, she’d be in a position to open her own studio. For the first time in her life Roisin had a plan and she was determined to stick to it. Now as she stood on the periphery of the room, plate of mince pies in hand she felt disconnected from the tableau. It was a strange thought but it didn’t make her sad.
‘Roisin, what are doing standing there letting the cold air in?’ Elsa brought her back into the room.
‘Sorry.’ She pushed the door shut with her foot and put the plate down on the coffee table.
‘Noah,’ Elsa said, ‘come and sit up here now and have a mince pie.’ She gestured to the low slung Ercol chair. Elsa and her late husband, Errol had bought the set of Ercol furniture not long after they were married and she was very fond of saying, ‘quality lasts you know’.
Noah who knew all about being naughty or nice at this time of year decided to roll with nice. He had one more wistful glance at the shiny wrapped boxes under the tree before sitting down in the chair as his granny had asked him to do. Roisin eyed him and was reminded of an old film, Little Lord Fauntleroy. Her son knew which side his bread was buttered on, that was for sure. She sat down in the matching chair opposite him.
‘Now,’ Elsa said doling out dainty china side plates and red serviettes. ‘Watch what I do.’ Roisin had the unnerving sensation she too was being given a lesson on how to eat a mince pie as Elsa flapped the red napkin before draping it over her lap. ‘That way you’ll catch any stray crumbs.’
Roisin quickly did the same, eager to get the show on the road and shove a mince pie in her gob. Colin was sitting straight backed, napkin in place, looking like he was waiting for his mother to pat him on the head and tell him he was a good boy. Her finger twitched with the urge to flip him the finger. He was such a goody-two shoes where Elsa was concerned, it had always annoyed her and still did, even now when it was no longer anything to do with her. She managed to keep her finger to herself moving her eyes away from him to watch as Noah set about demonstrating a strong future as a flag bearer with his napkin before finally draping it across his trousers. Elsa nodded approvingly before passing the plate around.
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph about time,’ Roisin hissed between her teeth.
‘Did you say something, dear?’ Elsa glanced over, questioning eyebrow raised.
‘Only that you make a lovely mince pie, Elsa.’
Elsa sniffed as a spray of crumbs shot forth unbidden from Roisin’s mouth. Ah well, Roisin thought, Elsa had always thought her an uncouth Irish heathen. In for a penny in for a pound, she might as well knock the mulled wine back too.
She wished she hadn’t when the spices, of which there were plenty, caught in the back of her throat. She felt it begin to close over a split second before she made a holy show of herself coughing and spluttering as though she were on her last legs.
‘I’ll get you some water.’ Colin dashed off to pour her a glass and when he reappeared, she snatched it from him gratefully taking a big gulp only to cough once again and wind up with it dribbling down her chin and onto her dress. Fat lot of good, the fecking napkin was, she thought seeing the damp stain spread over the grey fabric. Her blurred vision cleared and she saw Noah staring at her wide eyed. Ah, poor love, she thought, I frightened him. ‘I’m alright now, sweetheart,’ she rasped, ‘It just went down the wrong way that’s all.’ She refrained from adding his witch of a granny had probably deliberately loaded hers with mixed spice. She really wasn’t feeling her usual sunny self because when her son piped up with, ‘Well, Mummy, you always tell me not to drink too fast.’ It took all her strength not to tell him to cork it if he knew what was good for him. At that moment he looked very much like a little version of his father. They were a bad influence these Quealeys so they were, she decided, finally getting her breathing back under control.
‘Alright now?’ Elsa had watched her carry-on with alarm.
‘Mm,’ she nodded. ‘Sorry about that.’
So, Roisin, tell us how this new job of yours is going,’ Elsa said and she saw Colin’s ears perk up. She opened her mouth to
