ingredients.’
Scarlett pulled a face. ‘Like what?’ She put the glass to her lips.
‘Powdered kelp.’
Scarlett swallowed a gulp of the yellow liquid and gagged. ‘Yeugh.’
Ellie sipped hers and pulled a face. ‘It’s awful, isn’t it?’
‘Truly horrible, but I don’t want to hurt Heidi’s feelings. Can we chuck it in a plant pot?’ Scarlett headed for a large aspidistra in the corner of the room.
‘I don’t think so. It might not soak into the soil and the plant will probably wilt on the spot. Quick, open the French doors.’
Scarlett took both glasses and stepped into the garden. The contrast in temperature with the cosy house made her chest tighten. Overnight, a cold front had blown in, coating the flagstones with a film of sleet. Her bunny slippers weren’t ideal for venturing too far so she quickly threw the eggnog into a flowerbed and hurried back inside.
‘Brrr. So much for this being the Cornish Riviera. Look at my bunny slippers.’ She held up a foot to Ellie.
Ellie laughed. ‘They are a bit soggy. Let me put them in front of the fire, while you get the laptop ready.’
‘Thanks. You know … I’m starting to have cold feet in other ways. I’m a bit nervous now it’s come to the crunch.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ Ellie said, placing the damp slippers on the hearth tiles.
Even though all three of the Latham children were the wrong side of thirty, their parents still gave them stockings, although the ‘fillers’ had long since ceased to fit inside the actual stockings. They always contained small bottles of posh ‘smellies’, the latest book by their favourite author, chocolates and a ‘silly’ gift. This year everyone had received a pair of novelty slippers – even Marcus, who had groaned when he’d opened a pair of size eleven badger slippers.
Ellie was wearing fleecy alpacas, while Scarlett’s feet were cocooned in the fluffy rabbits. They were ridiculously impractical and probably lethal on the polished boards of Seaholly Manor, but wasn’t that the point of a stocking present? It had to be fun and, above all, silly. It was a stark contrast to Marcus and Heidi’s gift – a subscription to a health and fitness magazine and app.
‘I know you both want to turn over a new leaf,’ Heidi had said, with a dazzling smile. ‘But perhaps not today.’ She patted her stomach. ‘Even I’ll be relaxing my regime. Might even treat myself to a smidge of Christmas pud. After all, we can work off all the fat and sugar with some hill training on our run along the coastal path tomorrow, can’t we, Marcus?’
Marcus had almost snorted his Bailey’s onto the rug. ‘Um … Maybe not in these, eh, Heidi?’ He held up his badger-clad feet and everyone had laughed. Even Heidi had managed a titter before remarking,
‘Perhaps not, but you can definitely try out your new Christmas trainers tomorrow, darling.’
As Marcus sought refuge in the Good Beer Guide that Scarlett had given him, Scarlett hugged her sister-in-law. Over Heidi’s shoulder, she and her father had exchanged a knowing glance. He was now the proud owner of a Fitbit, whether he wanted to be or not.
‘Thank you, Heidi – and Marcus. I’m sure I’ll be very grateful for the subscription in the new year,’ Scarlett said. ‘Aren’t you going to try on your piglet slippers? Mum and Dad spent ages choosing an animal to suit each of us. The piglet was my idea,’ she said brightly. ‘Fabulous, aren’t they?’
Heidi’s eyes narrowed behind her forced smile. ‘Hilarious … but what made you think a piglet was appropriate?’
‘Well, you know, you’re so not a pig, are you? You’re so slim and healthy and you never pig out …’ Scarlett back-pedalled frantically. ‘And, um, a piglet is very cute. And pink.’
‘Cute and pink?’ Heidi raised her perfectly arched brows.
Marcus glanced up from his book. ‘I’d like to know whose idea it was to make me a badger.’
‘Dad’s, I think,’ Scarlett said, moving to her father’s side and perching on the arm of the chair next to him. ‘Wasn’t it, Dad?’
Roger waggled his feet. ‘I shouldn’t take offence, Heidi,’ he said wryly. ‘At least you’re not an elephant like me.’
‘That’s something, I suppose,’ Heidi muttered, eyeing the pink furry footwear with disdain before brightening up. ‘Now, does anyone want to try my healthy Christmas cocktail? I got it from an Instarecipe and it’s a superfoods version.’
Scarlett rubbed her hands together, trying to mollify her sister-in-law. ‘Luvverly. Sounds delish.’
‘In that case, I’ll pour you an extra large one,’ said Heidi, and scooted off to the kitchen.
As well as the stockings, their parents had given Ellie a tiny model Porsche along with some cash to help get her ancient car repaired. Scarlett had already received a contribution towards the new laptop she was now setting up next to the TV in the sitting room. They were very thoughtful presents, even Heidi’s – she probably thought she was helping to save her sisters-in-law from a whole raft of health problems caused by addiction to Bombay Sapphire and Hotel Chocolat.
At least, Scarlett thought, she hadn’t received A Self-Help Guide to Dating and Relationships, although it might have come in handy, considering her lack of progress since she’d split with Rafa. He’d been dark and handsome in the best Spanish tradition, a keen triathlete and a tennis player like his namesake. Maybe Heidi was hinting that Scarlett should take more exercise than the regular group swim sessions she enjoyed at her local ‘baths’ in Birmingham, although Scarlett went to the class as much for the social side as the workout.
There was one thing for sure. She had no intention of taking the plunge while in Cornwall. A toe-dip in the waters the day before had proved that was out of the question. These folk who did Boxing Day swims were barking, she’d decided.
Ellie opened the bottle of crème caramel liqueur that Scarlett had given her and topped up the empty eggnog glasses.
Scarlett connected the cable from the computer to the TV, surprised to find her fingers fumbling with the connectors. She was used to giving client presentations when pitching for a copywriting project but now the moment had come, she was nervous. She’d held onto the secret for over two months now and the suspense was killing her. It seemed like forever since she’d come down to Cornwall bearing the small box that had arrived from TreeFynder, a DNA testing company and ancestry website.
It had been Scarlett’s idea to arrange the test, which had been billed on the site as ‘The Ultimate Family Christmas Gift’. Her father, a retired civil engineer, had an interest in history and had often joked that the Lathams had Viking heritage. Marcus had often mentioned he’d be interested in finding out more too. It had seemed like the perfect celebration of the Latham family’s close bonds and an entertaining way to spend Christmas Day. She and Ellie had both agreed that Auntie Joan, who’d loved her extended family dearly, would have been delighted at the gift.
Admittedly, the initial DNA test had been slightly gross. Scarlett and Ellie had had to
