Better Than Easy by Nick Alexander Page A

won’t.”
    Tom nods. “I just think, take it a day at a time and see what happens,” he says, tipping his head sideways.
    And though I’m not quite sure why, I can sense that the communication is lost for now. That there’s no common ground, no meeting of the paths, and nowhere, following my or Tom’s logic, for us to go here. If we push this to the end of either road there’s only one conclusion. We are
doomed
. And I don’t want to go there. I’m not ready for it. I still want to believe.
    â€œYeah,” I say vaguely. I sigh. “I guess that’s all anyone can do.”
    Tom looks relieved as if he just got released from a job interview. “On a more practical note,”he says. “Shall we go and get some food in?”
    I nod sadly and stand. “Yeah,” I say. “Let’s do that.”

Surprise Guest
    I can’t believe you’re both abandoning me,” I say, taking the knives and forks from Jenny’s grasp.
    Tom’s shouts his contribution from the next room. “You see what I have to put up with?” he whines.
    Jenny smiles at me good-naturedly. “We’re hardly
abandoning
you,” she says.
    â€œAbandoning,”
Tom wails mockingly.
    â€œWe’ll both be back for New Year’s Eve,” Jenny continues as she searches for five identical spoons, “but it’s just, well, my mum
needs
me around at Christmas.” She holds out the spoons. “I
have
to go home, at least for Christmas.”
    I move to the other room and start to distribute the cutlery around the table. “You’re such a hypocrite,” Tom says, his eyes following me around the room, his lazy smile revealing that he’s only half joking.
    â€œHow?” I say, glancing up at him. “Why a hypocrite?”
    â€œOnly yesterday you were complaining that France is supposed to be secular – but that the secular rules only apply to religions
other
than Catholicism.
    Jenny enters the room with glasses and napkins. She puts them on the table and ruffles Sarah’s hair. “How does
that
work?” she says.
    â€œI
…
” I start to explain.
    â€œOh he was going on about how, you know, Muslim girls aren’t allowed to wear headscarves to school, but crosses are still everywhere, and all the public holidays like Ascension and Easter are all still Catholic holidays – and how all the the Pope needs to do is fart and French TV covers it immediately in HD stereo.”
    Jenny nods and pushes her bottom lip out. “Well, that’s true,” she says. “They even tell you which saint’s day it is at the end of the weather forecast for God’s sake.”
    I raise an eyebrow and nod at Tom in a,
you see
, kind of way.
    â€œOh yeah, it’s true all right, but
…
”
    â€œNot
what you said yesterday,” I mutter.
    â€œBut
…
” Tom pauses pedantically, before continuing, “You can’t then start having a go at me because I’m not going to be here for Jesus’ birthday.”
    â€œI was talking about the French state banning Muslim stuff in the name of secularity but not
…
Anyway, it’s not
about
Jesus’ birthday.”
    â€œWell, it
is
actually,” Jenny says, laughing.
    â€œI know, but I mean, for
me
it’s not about that at all. It’s simply the one day a year when you’re supposed to spend the day eating and drinking and cuddling up with your loved one. Christmas isn’t a day you’re supposed to spend on your own looking at the cat.”
    â€œChristmas,” Sarah repeats.
    Jenny shoots her a smile. “Yes,” she says. “Christmas,” then to me, “I suppose you think I’m indoctrinating her.”
    I frown. “Not at all. As long as you’re not telling her that she was born in sin or any of that mediaeval rubbish.”
    Sarah frowns at the opaque turn the conversation has