Four Weddings And A White Christmas

Screw that shit. Harry thought. All that apologising and keeping tabs on each other. He hated it. It was one of the reasons he was so looking forward to his Christmas – nowhere to be, no one to check in with, no one to expect anything. With the meeting cancelled and Wilf snoring away in front of him, his hands under his head like a pillow, Harry wondered if perhaps he should start the celebrations now. Mosey up to London, find a decent bar and drink away his jet lag.

But then a tiny wail started in the kitchen.

Annie looked round from where she was now standing on top of a table moving the garland a fraction of a centimetre to the left. ‘That’s Willow.’

Harry nodded.

Annie opened her eyes wide at him. ‘It’s Willow.’

‘I’m sure it is,’ he said.

‘Is Wilf going to get her?’

‘Wilf’s asleep.’

‘Well wake him up,’ she said, as if Harry was being an idiot.

Harry raised a brow and then gave Wilf a shove. Nothing happened. The guy was comatose. The wailing got louder.

‘He’s not waking up.’

‘Oh for god’s sake.’ Annie put her hands on her head, clearly at the end of her tether. ‘Well go and get the baby.’

‘I’m not getting the baby.’

‘Don’t be such a baby,’ she shouted down from the ladder.

‘I’m not a baby. The baby’s a baby.’ Harry scowled.

‘Just get the baby.’

The teenager had taken his headphones off and was smirking at Harry being told what to do by Annie.

Harry sloped out of his booth seat, chewing on the inside of his cheek in annoyance. Why couldn’t she get the baby? He didn’t want to get the baby.

The noise was emanating from the black pram in the corner.

He walked closer, wincing at the sound. This was not good for his jet lag.

The kid inside looked like a prune with a huge mouth.

‘Oh Jesus.’ He sighed. He had vague memories of his younger sister being born and the noise tearing through the house. He leant over the pram and watched the little face get redder and redder.

He looked around.

He exhaled.

Then he leant forward and picked the squirming little bundle up. The wailing rebounding off his ear like an aeroplane engine. He suddenly realised that Wilf probably wasn’t asleep at all, just keeping his eyes tightly closed so he didn’t have this racket rolling round his head.

He nestled her into the crook of his arm like he used to do with his sister.

She was really tiny. All dressed in yellow.

He peered out the kitchen hatch to see that Annie had squatted down on the table and was checking to see what he was doing. He waved as if he had it all under control. Refusing to give her the satisfaction of another tell-off.

The noise was incessant. He winced again.

Fumbling around in the bag hanging from the pram handle he found a bottle and a carton of formula. What was the etiquette here? Could you just feed someone else’s baby without asking them? He looked up again through the hatch and saw Wilf’s mouth open as he snored gently. The kid was screaming. Annie was looking worried, like she’d have to come in and help if he didn’t sort this out pronto.

Tearing the carton and pouring it into the bottle he shook it once and then pop in the mouth, crying stopped. All the muscles in his body relaxed. He could feel the creases in his forehead iron out. The little prune guzzled away. He made a face of distaste at it then walked back into the café.

‘Ahh.’ Annie sighed from where she was standing on the top of the ladder, her arms above her head as she pressed another drawing pin into the ceiling to hold up a garland. ‘You look like an Athena poster.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Harry said, sliding back into the booth. ‘You want the baby?’ he asked her.

‘No, I’ve got decorations to hang. You know Athena posters? Black and white, bloke with no top on holding a baby? On teenagers’ walls?’

Harry shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

Annie raised her brows and looked away as if she’d tried hard enough with this guy and had more important things to deal with. ‘River, how are the trees going?’

Harry frowned. ‘Your name’s River?’ he asked the kid with the headphones.

‘Yeah,’ he said, glaring at him from behind a hot-pink tree. ‘What about it?’

‘Nothing. Just a crazy name.’

Matt, who was trying to fix a flashing reindeer to the wall, while clearly pretending he was less drunk than he actually was, glanced over at Harry and said, ‘We were young when we had him. I liked the river.’

‘Kudos to you,’ Harry said and looked back down to the baby sucking the bottle as if her life depended on it. ‘Willow and River. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a place called Cherry Pie Island.’

‘Are you mocking us?’ Annie asked.

‘Yes.’ Harry nodded.

‘Just because we don’t all live in New York City…’ She got cut off as the door opened and a brown-haired woman poked her head around it. ‘Oh my goodness. Everyone leave!’ Annie shouted. ‘Leave. Matt, go!’ she said, as Matt, clearly relieved to be able to leave the light-up reindeer, jumped down from his ladder and skedaddled out the back door with his son. ‘The dress is here.’

Harry watched the brunette looking nervous on the threshold. She seemed to be waiting until everyone left, including him.

‘Come in, come in,’ Annie called. ‘Ignore Harry. He’s an idiot with a baby.’

Harry tipped his head to one side. ‘Touché,’ he said, but the tired-looking brunette didn’t glance his way again. She was clutching a blue dress bag tightly to her chest. She had the kind of bags under her eyes that they show on ‘before’ models in commercials. He wondered if she was ill.

‘Is there somewhere we can go?’ she asked.

Annie shook her head. ‘I’ve got new tenants in the flat upstairs. Don’t worry, I’ll just lock the door.’

Harry pretended not to be really interested in what was going on. He looked at the baby. It had fallen asleep. Gently pulling the bottle from its mouth he tried to shift position, but she did a little whimper when he moved. He was stuck where he was. His left arm had gone numb.