24December I told my wife, Emily, and my sister, Sarah, that we were inviting them over for NewYears Eve. Will you have time to get everything ready? I asked that evening.
Emily sighed with relief, Finally, the longawaited weekend! she said, slipping off her boots and plopping onto the hallway pouf. Ten whole days off ahead of us. She stretched, relaxed her tense muscles and smiled at the thought of a leisurely fortnight.
Great! I nodded, leaning against the door frame. I was just on the phone with Sarah. She said they still havent decided where to ring in the New Year, so theyll come to us.
Emily raised an eyebrow. And Mum will come too, of course. She always celebrates with them. I could see the shift in Emilys mood.
You realise NewYears is tomorrow, dont you? Emily snapped. Ive been pulling late shifts all week to hit my targets. And now you tell me my fate tomorrow is to spend the whole day juggling pans?
Nothing fancy, just a couple of salads, a main, some cold cuts, maybe a few snacks, I replied casually.
Mark, youd better stay clear of me for a while, or youll get hit by a frying pan, Emily said seriously. If your relatives want to drop by, they should bring something themselves. Give them a ring and let them know. I remember one NewYears when we were all together. I ran around with platters while your friends lounged on the sofa, sipping wine under the blue glow of the TV.
Emily, why are you like this? I asked, taken aback by her sudden outburst.
How should I be? she retorted, storming off to change into her homeclothes.
Emily was furious, even though the weekend had just begun. The only thing that soothed her was the fact that this month shed earned oneandahalf times her usual £2,000 wage. She paused before the mirror, removed her makeup slowly, and began mapping out tomorrows plans.
Ideally she wanted to sleep until at least noon, then have a lazy breakfast, tidy up, order groceries, and whip up something light for the celebration. She craved peace, exhausted from the endless sprint at work, and dreamed of a quiet, cosy holiday.
How can I make sure everything goes to plan? she mused, running through every possible scenario in her head.
Trying not to notice me darting about the flat, Emily headed to the kitchen, poured herself a hot lemon tea and settled to eat. Snowflakes drifted outside, glittering under streetlights, creating a truly festive atmosphere.
She stared out the window for a moment, forgetting her dilemma, then shook her head and returned to reality. A brilliant yet risky idea sprang to mind.
The next morning unfolded exactly as Emily had planned: at twelve oclock she stretched lazily, only to find Id already risen and was bustling in the kitchen a rarity on the eve of a holiday. I slipped on a soft robe and joined her.
What are you up to? Emily asked, squinting in the bright light.
I thought Id treat my beloved with a festive breakfast, I said, stirring something in a bowl.
It looks like the pans on fire, Emily laughed as a wisp of smoke rose.
When we finally sat down, Emily pressed me for my guest plan, noting wed bought nothing and the flat was still a mess.
I couldnt say no to Sarah, I admitted without looking up from my plate.
Of course you couldnt, Emily muttered, raising an eyebrow. Your sister is hard to refuse.
Did you have any suggestions? I saw you looking thoughtful yesterday. I was actually impressed by how you held it together I thought youd have torn the whole place apart.
First thing, call Sarah and ask whether theyll bring any snacks or salads. There are four of them: two adults and two kids.
I nodded and grabbed the phone, my nerves evident.
Hey Sarah, its Mark. Emilys sorting the table and I just wanted to check what youll be bringing so we dont duplicate anything.
A burst of laughter crackled on the other end. Mark, are you serious? When am I supposed to cook? Ive got two children! We were hoping Emily would sort something out, as always, she replied cheekily.
Theyre not babies, both schoolage, I countered.
A sudden clatter interrupted us. Oops, sorry Ive broken something again. Talk later, love, Sarah said, hanging up.
She returned to me, puzzled.
Theyre not bringing anything, right? she asked, hopeful.
Right and Mum too. Both said they just want to relax and enjoy, not cook, I summed up.
Got it, Emily said, biting her lip. Im thinking of going to my parents for NewYears. They invited us on Thursday; I just didnt tell you because I wanted to stay home. Will you come with me? We dont have much time to decide.
Thatll upset the family, I said, looking bewildered.
Or youll argue with your wife, Emily teased.
Honestly, Id choose you, I replied, raising my hands in peace.
Emily set about tidying the flat so we could return to a clean apartment after the holidays. I headed out with the shopping list shed prepared. The shopping centre was awash in festive cheer: twinkling lights on shop windows, decks of Christmas trees, and Santa figures everywhere.
Merry Christmas trees! I muttered, spotting a perfect little fir. How could I have forgotten?
I abandoned the rest of my errands and rushed to the Christmastree market. I chose a modest but charming spruce; its branches brushed my face as I lugged it home on my shoulder.
When I opened the door, Emily turned and gasped. A tree? she beamed.
Will you decorate it? I havent bought anything from the list yet. I just wanted to surprise you.
Youve always been against a live tree, she said.
I dont know, I felt like a change this year.
The flat instantly felt festive. Emily fetched a box of ornaments from the top shelf and began hanging baubles and tinsel with affection. With each decoration the room grew more magical.
By the time I finished my shopping, the bags were piled high with groceries and a few souvenirs.
Did you get everything? Emily asked, eyeing the load.
Everything except the fish it wasnt fresh. Well stop at another shop on the way, I replied, and she felt a warm glow spread through her.
Great, she said, surprised by my sudden eagerness to help. She had feared Id reject her ideas and that wed spend the whole evening entertaining relatives.
We packed the car, the clock showing only seventhirty, and the relatives were due at ten. The drive to Emilys parents country house took about an hour, so we left early to be on time.
Standing by the open boot, overloaded with bags, Emily brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and asked, Do you think weve forgotten anything?
Just the dessert, I answered. We can pick something up on the road.
She nodded, and we set off.
The cottage belonged to Emilys parents, the Thompsons, who had moved out of London ten years ago, trading a flat for a tidy countryside home. Even in their later years they kept a lively spirit. Festive lights draped the exterior, giving the place a cheerful glow.
We never took the lights down last year, Mr. Peter Thompson chuckled when Emily remarked on them.
Yes? I didnt notice when we visited in summer, Emily replied with a smile.
We began unloading, and I handed a sack to Mr. Thompson.
Weve brought a bit of everything. Not sure what youll be cooking, but it might come in handy.
Let me pop everything inside quickly, he said. While youre in the kitchen, Ill fire up the sauna I built out back.
Peters selfmade sauna was a small wooden hut with a proper steam room, always scented with essential oils he bought for guests.
Meanwhile, Emily and her mother, Margaret, turned on a classic British NewYears film, lost in the bustle of preparation. When the clock struck nine, my phone erupted with calls.
Mark, open up! Were at the door, shouted Sasha.
Were not home, I replied weakly.
Where are you? When will you be back? she asked, irritated.
Weve gone to the countryside. Everything got a bit chaotic. Well be back in two days, I tried to explain.
Off to the country? What about NewYears? she protested.
Well celebrate here, in the village, I said.
Really? Sashas tone turned sour. What about us?
Theres still time for you to come back and have a familystyle celebration, I answered calmly.
Are you suggesting I spend the whole night looking after the kids? she asked, stunned.
I I dont know. If its necessary, well manage, I stammered.
Youve really surprised me, Mark, she said. Maybe the keys are hidden under the mat?
Now I see why you always go to someone elses house for NewYears, I laughed. My wife outfoxed you, I added, wishing her a Happy NewYear before hanging up.
I counted to ten in my head and then saw my mothers number flash on the screen.
Yes, weve left, I began before she could speak. Well be celebrating in the village. No spare keys.
How can you treat us like this? We were counting on you! my mother erupted.
I get it, but its how it turned out. Honestly, Im tired of every holiday being squeezed into our tiny flat. Why dont you and Sasha ever invite us over? Yet you always expect us to show up with everything ready. Both of you have spacious threebedroom houses! she retorted.
Did I give birth to you just to endure this? she added bitterly.
I Im sorry, I said, feeling the weight of years of unspoken grievances.
She fell silent, unsure how to reply.
Alright, I understand, she said softly. We wont bother you again.
She hung up, and I let out a long breath. The conversation had been hard; Im not the type to break ties over trivialities, but a lot of resentment had built up.
Everything okay? Emily asked, resting her head on my shoulder.
Mom called, I replied briefly.
Do you think we did the right thing? she wondered.
Absolutely, I said, turning to her. Were expecting them, theyre preparing for our arrival. And my side? It feels like Im just being used for my kindness. Ive tolerated it far too long.
She hugged me, trying to soothe my frustration.
Lets just get ready for the celebration, I added, trying to lighten the mood.
This NewYears turned out to be unforgettable. We spent a couple of days at my parents cottage, enjoying quiet evenings by the fireplace, sledging down the hill like children, and sharing long conversations. It was the most heartfelt holiday Id had in years, far from the hustle and noise of the city.
Soon enough well have to slip back into our usual routine, but the memory of that simple, warm gathering will stay with me.
Lesson learned: good communication and realistic planning keep the festive spirit alive, and a little honesty can save a lot of hurt.
