Her problems are my problems.
I don’t think Ms Evergreen believed me, but she had no choice but to send Lee and me to Isolation (a room where kids were put for extended periods of time to keep them from disrupting lessons). There, we chatted and I guess taking the fall for my sister went a long way to impressing him because from that day on, he thought I was OK. Predictably, being on the receiving end of attention from a cool, good-looking guy resulted in me developing a silly, schoolgirl crush on him. My sister went on to marry him, so all is well that ends well. I’d be mortified if either of them knew that, and it’s safe to say that, post GCSEs, my crush soon died.
The point is, other than that occasion, I’ve never really been in trouble because I’ve never really done anything wrong. I’m just not very good at it – even a harmless little white lie fills me with guilt. That’s why I’ve been staring at my phone for half an hour now, thinking about whether I should do what I’m planning on doing. It feels wrong, but…when Seb first came into the shop, I felt just like I did at school – flattered that someone out of my league was giving me attention, and I don’t ever want to feel like that again. Being so easily flattered doesn’t make for a very good feminist, does it?
Speaking of good feminists, I pick up the phone and dial and, after a few seconds, I am connected with Prue Honeywell, our local MP.
Prue is exactly the kind of person you want speaking for your town, because she really cares about everyone – especially women. And, look, my plan isn’t to lie to her, it’s just to tell her about the kind of man Seb Stone really is.
‘Hello, Ivy,’ she says brightly. ‘How are you?’
Prue and I have spoken on many occasions. I’m one of the first people to help out when it comes to all of her charitable causes for the town.
‘I’m not too bad, thank you. How are you?’
‘Oh, you know,’ she says. ‘Stressed but blessed. What can I do for you today?’
‘It’s about Seb Stone, the man who is hoping to buy the land my shop stands on, to build holiday homes,’ I start. ‘I just…I don’t think he’s right for the town, and I know you have a meeting with him today.’
‘Tell me more,’ she says curiously.
‘Well, he’s been quite underhanded about it all. He came in to scope the place out, without telling me why – and now he’s buying it from under me. He’s obviously a big, important businessman—’ it’s hard to hide the sarcasm from my tone ‘—and it just seems like he has no respect for the place. He’s going to build these modern-looking homes and he thinks he can just do whatever he wants, so long as he smiles and winks while he’s doing it.’
‘He sounds dreadful, based on that character reference,’ Prue agrees. ‘Ivy, if you know one thing about me, it’s that I want what’s best for this town, and I take care of us without taking any stick from men. Let me meet with him this afternoon and, if he’s not right, I’ll make sure he knows it, and I’ll put a stop to this, OK?’
‘OK, great,’ I reply, a wave of relief washing over me.
‘Why don’t you meet me in the deli afterwards, say 3 p.m.? And we can discuss any concerns you still have.’
‘Thank you so much,’ I say, emotion prickling my throat. It’s just nice to feel like someone has my back.
After the call, I shut up shop for the day, which is fine because, until I figure out how I’m going to draw in more customers, it’s not like people will be beating the door down to buy baubles.
With Holly resisting all things festive more defiantly than usual this year, I am trying extra hard to make things special for Chloe and Harry. They don’t have school today because, thanks to a dusting of snow last night, someone skidded off the road and crashed into one of those green boxes that are something to do with the phone lines.
Holly sounded especially stressed to be entertaining the kids today, so I have offered to take them to see Santa Claus – the only Santa in town, at Wilson’s garden centre.
‘Thanks for doing this,’ Holly says, as she fastens the kids into the back of my car.
‘I should be thanking you,’ I say enthusiastically, mostly for Chloe and Harry’s benefit. ‘I’m more excited than the kids.’
‘I’ll get my jobs done while you’re gone, hopefully. Let me know when you’re on your way back.’
‘Will do, sis,’ I reply, lowering my voice. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘You just seem a little flustered.’
‘I’m fine,’ she says firmly, although not entirely convincingly.
I know my car is old, but it’s safe. She seems even more worried than usual to be sending her precious cargo off with me.
‘Well, we’re going to have more fun than your mum is, tidying up all day,’ I say as we make the short journey to the garden centre.
‘Mummy is going out,’ Chloe informs me.
‘Is she?’
‘Yep, I heard her on the phone,’ she says. ‘She was saying she would see someone.’
‘Are you sure?’ I ask. It’s not like my sister to lie to me.
‘Yep,’ Chloe says confidently.
Could she be right? Holly did say Chloe had been paying more attention to things lately, hanging around, listening to the adults. And Holly has been acting a little odd recently.
‘We’re here,’ I say, pushing any thoughts of my sister being up to something from my mind. She’s probably just organising their Christmas presents or something. No matter how Holly feels about what she calls the so-called most wonderful time of the year, she always buys her kids presents.
I hurry to keep up with the kids as they charge through the various departments of the garden centre, before we finally reach Santa’s grotto, a small log cabin surrounded by sparkly fake snow, stuffed reindeer and plastic elves – none of which lend well to the legitimacy of this Santa Claus. Well, it’s 2018, and our children have Google. They watch Marvel movies and read Harry Potter books, and know exactly what is real and what isn’t, so if we want them to buy into this Santa character, we need to do a much better job of selling it. Fake snow, stuffed animals and plastic people aren’t going to cut it, although perhaps that’s just my cynical, grown-up point of view because Chloe and Harry are happily caught up in the excitement, gleefully unwrapping their candy canes as we join the queue. They’re not worrying about the aesthetics and I really miss that about being young.
‘Ho, ho, ho,’ Santa bellows, as Chloe and Harry cautiously make their way towards him. I suppose, to them, he’s a superstar. It would be like me queuing up to sit on Henry Cavill’s lap.
I suck on my candy cane as I glance around Santa’s grotto. It’s not up to much this year, but it is the only one in town so I suppose it will do.
‘And how is Mummy doing today?’ Santa Claus asks.
I quickly turn to face him, widening
