Mistletoe & Bastards by Lindy Dale Page A

have my personal space
invaded, that I couldn’t suffer fools at the best of times. Millie
was the only person able to make me see reason when I wanted to go
on a rant about the injustice of one thing or another. She’d have
to get why I didn’t go in for this Christmas carry on.
    “What do you
think, Mil?” I asked.
    “I think it’ll
be fun. Everyone can come to ours. I’ll cook a traditional dinner.
In my new oven. In my new house. With my gorgeous husband.” Millie
puffed out her chest proudly. It seemed the nesting bug had invaded
my one possible ally. Next she’d be suggesting we wear reindeer
jumpers in the middle of summer heat so we could co-ordinate with
Kirby’s outfit.
    I should have
known better than to ask, of course. Millie had been behaving oddly
ever since she got back from her wedding in Bali. Her burbling and
cooing was most uncharacteristic, not to mention nauseating. I’d
put it down to the insane rush of hormones that must have overrun
her body now she was pregnant with twins. It couldn’t be that
Millie had joined the dark side. Hopefully, after the babies were
born in eight weeks time she’d return to her sensible, sane self.
The one I knew probably thought Secret Santa was a silly idea, too.
But for now, I guessed I’d have to suck it up.
    “But it’s such
a lot of effort and the boys won’t appreciate it anyway,” I said.
Which was code for ‘your cooking sucks’. Millie had serious issues
with cooking.
    “But I want to
do it. It’ll be a chance for me to try out my grandma’s pudding
recipe.”
    “I bet it’s one
those ones where the fruit’s drowning in alcohol.” Sasha gave a
little sigh. “All the old time recipes are like that. You could get
pissed just eating dessert.”
    “ Oohhh .
I, like, totally adore Christmas pudding,” Kirby said. “Do you do
brandy custard?”
    Millie
nodded.
    Were they
listening to themselves? Firstly, Millie couldn’t have pudding
laced with booze, being pregnant and everything, and secondly, she
couldn’t cook to save herself. “Ah, steaming chicken and vegetables
for three children doesn’t exactly prepare you for preparation of a
full on Christmas feast, Mil. Besides, I’m positive you have to
soak the fruit for weeks beforehand. What about if I donate one of
those yummy homemade ones from Fresh Prov?”
    “But I want to
do something for everyone.” Millie gave a blasé wave of her hand.
“It’ll be fine. How hard can a pudding be?”
    That was like
asking how long a piece of tinsel was.
    “Do it then, if
you really want to but it’s a big ask, especially when the boys eat
like a famine’s about to be announced. It means you’ll effectively
be making food for twenty, not six or eight. Have you ever even
cooked a turkey?”
    Millie appeared
affronted. “I most certainly have! Well, I sort of have. I’ve
watched Mum and I know how to make stuffing. And I can do gravy
from the packet. It’s easy.”
    Let’s hope we
weren’t going to have a dinner of stuffing, gravy and bread rolls.
I wondered if I should have a caterer on standby, just in case. It
wasn’t wise to leave the menfolk without food for too long. Not
when red wine was involved. And if Millie was cooking, the odds of
the feast being ready prior to New Year’s Eve were slim. Sam would
have been better off buying her a chef, not a house.
    “I can go food
shopping with you,” Sasha said. “We don’t want you lifting too many
heavy things in your condition.”
    “And I can do
the decorations and the table and everything,” Kirby added. “I need
the practise for the business. Who knows when wedding planning
might, like, totally morph into me being the event co-ordinator of
the year?” She expelled an excited giggle.
    “Thanks Kirbs,”
Millie replied, “Just as an aside I will be paying you this time.
You did enough at the wedding without payment. If you want your
business to be a success you have to start charging.”
    At least,
Millie hadn’t lost all