How the In-Laws Wrecked Christmas. Fiona Gibson
of her veil.
‘I just feel a bit uncomfortable,’ I add.
Ben’s face softens. ‘Look, I know they’re a bit stiff. They probably don’t know how to be with you. I haven’t brought anyone back since Louisa and I split up. But they’ll warm up, and it’ll be fine …’
‘What did your mum mean when she said, “I didn’t expect …”’
Ben looks baffled.
‘When we arrived,’ I prompt him. ‘She looked a bit shocked …’
‘I’ve no idea,’ he says with a shrug.
‘You did tell them I was coming, didn’t you?’
‘Of course I did!’ he exclaims. ‘D’you really think I’d just spring you on them?’
‘No idea,’ I say truthfully, because in fact I don’t know what to think.
In the vast bathroom I sit on the loo, figuring that maybe it’s normal in these circles to display wedding pictures, even post-divorce. And maybe it’s me who’s weird, and not properly grown-up, still living with friends like a student.
I get up and study my reflection in the gilt-edged mirror above the wash basin. Cheap hair, cheap dress … even my red lipstick looks wrong. It seemed perfect when I chose it, but maybe there is
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