Max just tapped the side of his nose.
They moved on to red wine after their first drink, inspired by the other table. The pub had started to fill up by the time they ordered their food, including a big table of seven, one of the children wearing the type of red velvet dress you can only get away with under the age of six, and a couple who were wearing his and hers Christmas jumpers.
They were halfway through their roast dinners—Josie had opted for the slightly less traditional beef, which she had to admit was pretty good, tender and juicy, with some of the best fluffy roast potatoes she’d had—when her phone rang. She had to swallow a particularly large chunk of Yorkshire pudding drowned in gravy to get to it while it was still buzzing, and saw that it was a video call from her grandparents. They usually just stuck to Christmas Eve, but having told Memo that Bia was in Argentina, it didn’t surprise her that they’d want to check up on her—in fact, Josie was pretty sure that Bia was the only reason she didn’t get more sporadic calls from them in general, worrying about how she was.
She glanced outside, but Max waved a hand at her. “You can answer it here if you want, don’t go and stand in the cold on my account.”
She hesitated, but gave in and accepted the call—it would be unfair of her to ignore them just because she was having a good time. “Hello, my love.” Her grandmother’s face filled the screen, smiling and wrinkled, her grey bob beautifully curled today and a dash of brown eyeliner under her brown eyes. Her grandad was there too, one bushy eyebrow, half of a stubbly chin, but she couldn’t see Helen.
“Happy Christmas!” Josie said, beaming.
“And to you too,” Memo said, raising a glass of some sort of liqueur.
“How’s your morning been?” Josie asked.
“Oh, you know, Helen had everyone up early with Bucks Fizz and took us all out on a walk. How that woman has that much energy at her age I don’t know.”
Josie smiled. “You’re one to talk. Where’s Helen now?”
“She’s in the kitchen, taking charge of the roast, and I thought it was easier to let her have at it. Do you want to talk to her? I can grab her?”
“No, that’s OK,” Josie said quickly, not particularly wanting to risk Helen and Max interacting over video.
“Anyway, how are you, my love? I’m worried about you, spending Christmas alone.”
Josie glanced at Max across the table, who was taking a sip of red wine, raising his eyebrows at her over the rim. “Well, I’m, umm, I’m actually out at a pub with a friend at the moment having lunch, if that makes you feel any better.”
“It does,” her grandad said, moving his head into the frame. “But we need proof.”
Smiling a bit, Josie turned her phone to Max, who moved his wine glass immediately out of sight, and cleared his throat, giving an awkward little half wave, which made Josie laugh.
Memo made an appreciative “hmm” noise in the back of her throat. “So this is your ‘friend,’ is it? He’s pretty—when are you bringing him to visit?”
Josie laughed again, but they moved on to talk about other things, like what Helen had gotten them for Christmas—a Kegel exercise set for Memo and a smoothie subscription for her grandad, which made Josie a little nervous about opening her own present from Helen when she got home. If Helen could buy her own mother Kegels, there were no limits. “I got the quote, by the way,” Josie said, a smile playing around her lips.
Memo raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Did you know?”
“Love Actually?” At Memo’s sigh, Josie laughed. “Thought you’d got me, did you?”
“I have to admit I thought that might be the one to put me firmly in the lead, but alas, there’s always next time and I’ll catch you out sooner or later.”
Josie was smiling when they hung up, though the interruption meant that her roast had gotten a little cold. Max, one step ahead of her, ordered a jug of hot gravy.
“How come you’re not there?” he asked, gesturing to where she’d put her phone next to her on the table. “With your grandparents?”
Josie took a bite of beef, chewed slowly, then sighed and picked up her wine. “It’s just…it’s too difficult. Going back to where I grew up. Especially at Christmas, on the day my parents died. It makes me sad, and then they get sad that I’m sad and I…” She sipped her rioja, put it down. “I guess that just seems unfair, on all counts.”