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“Mother!”
The word dragged Edina out of a deep sleep with a start. She sat bolt upright in bed, pillow falling from her face into her lap. “Wha?”
“Mother. Are you actually awake or just somnambulating?”
Edina blinked sleep from her eyes and rubbed her face. “I’m awake, sweetie. What is it?”
Saffron stood at the foot of Edina’s bed, arms crossed. “Is it possible that you decided that you were going to decorate for Christmas this year?”
“I decorate for Christmas every year, darling.”
“The array of empty wine bottles and cigarette packets does occasionally resemble a wreath.”
Edina frowned. “I do more than that! You know me, I love the holiday season, with its bright lights and its music and ... you know, things.”
Saffron rolled her eyes. “Did you or did you not decide to decorate this year?”
“I may have put in a little extra effort, sweetie. Why do you ask?”
“You got a Christmas tree.”
“Well, I waited until you were here to decorate it! Mostly, anyway. Just like we always used to do.”
“We decorated Gran’s tree, mum.”
“It’s the same thing! Look, you go downstairs, I’ll be down in a minute, sweetie.”
Saffron sighed sharply and turned, headed down the stairs. Edina waited until she was gone, then spat a couple times. “Last night’s eggnog,” she groused, then wiped her tongue on her bedsheet and grabbed the eighth-full bottle of wine she’d been resting on instead of a pillow, swallowing the remains in one go. “All right, let’s see what she’s complaining about.”
Edina had, as it turned out, acquired a tree. It was a fine, tall Douglas fir, its needles green and fresh, well-shaped and with plenty of room below the last branches to fit into the stand.
It was also sideways on the kitchen table, with tinsel tossed across it and a few ornaments scattered haphazardly about.
“Sweetie?” she asked, looking around the kitchen.
“Here, mother,” Saffron answered from her seat on the other side of the table, behind the tree.
“It is a nice tree, though, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes, it’s quite lovely, and exactly what I’d had in mind for breakfast.”
“Now, darling, I just needed some help getting it moved into place. You will help me with it, won’t you? Oh, sweetie-darling, you’ll help?”
Saffron sighed again and stood up. “Let’s go, then,” she said, grabbing the tree, only to see that Edina had turned around to get a cup of coffee. “Mother?”
Edina whirled, nearly knocking an ornament off. “Oh, of course, of course, sweetie, I’m sorry, here we go…” She lifted one side of the tree, Saffron the other, and together they guided it to the stand toward the back of the kitchen. “Okay, just slide the end in, just like... well, I guess you wouldn’t know about that, sweetie.”
Saffron groaned and worked the end of the tree into the stand. “I’ll hold it upright while you turn the screws, Mother. I don’t trust you not to sway.”
“Yes, yes, nag, nag,” Edina said, kneeling down to anchor the tree. Once that was done, she looked up. “Oh, plug it in, won’t you, darling? The plug’s on your side.”
Saffron picked up the plug and socketed it, and the tree lit up, the lights strung haphazardly about the branches on the side facing the kitchen. “I thought you said you hadn’t decorated it.”
“Mostly, darling, mostly. Well, somewhat. Look, I had the lights shipped all the way from Los Angeles, they’re all the rage, I had to put them on myself because they’re very just so. They’ve got a trick to them, you’ll see. Anyway, your ornament is over there.”
Saffron looked to where Edina was pointing. A single blue ball sat on the counter, with “SWEETIE” written in flaking glittery letters. She sighed, took the ball, and hung it in an appropriate place on the tree.
“Thank you, sweetie. It looks lovely, don’t you think?”
“Mother, why did you do all this? You don’t usually go to this much effort for anything but acquiring a new bottle of wine.”
“I told you, I love Christmas! The bright lights--”
“And the music, yes, except not any of that. You spend Christmas in your bedroom with your blanket drawn over your head so you won’t have to look how many presents you didn’t get.”
“Now, that’s just cruel. I don’t spend Christmas that way. Well, not all of it. Look, just make me some coffee, will you? Make mummy some coffee, sweetie? Darling?”
Saffron threw up her hands and walked around to the counter. As she fired up the grinder, Patsy’s voice came from above. “Oh, it’s just terrible! Me, wearing a fur on Christmas! I should be ashamed! No, don’t come near me!” She came down the stairs, a bulging paper bag in one hand and draped in a long coat with a fur collar. “Hello, hello, happy Christmas--”
As she got to the final step, the pad Edina had placed there before clicked, and the tree sprang to life. The lights began to flash rhythmically as a hidden synthesizer played “We Wish You A Merry Christmas”, and both Edina and Patsy shrieked, screwing their eyes shut and throwing their hands over their ears. “Shut it off!” Patsy cried. “Shut it off, you awful troll!”
Saffron sighed and went to unplug the tree, but the flashing lights and tinny music faded before she got there. “I thought you liked the bright lights and the music.”
“When they’re far off, darling, and preferably where I can’t see or hear them.” Edina settled back into her chair. “Patsy, what’s all this about a fur?”
“Oh, I wore my best coat today. Ermine lining, very chic. And of course there were protesters complaining about how awful fur is and how we shouldn’t skin animals.”
“Did they throw paint on you?” Saffron asked.
Patsy’s shoulders slumped. “No. Didn’t even notice me.”
Edina rose and took the bag from Patsy’s hand. “You poor thing. What’s this? It looks like a watermelon.”
“It’s a watermelon.”
Edina took it out of the bag and shook it. “...a watermelon?”
“It’s a special Christmas watermelon. You know, it’s a tradition.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that tradition,” Saffron chimed in.
“It’s a tradition!” Patsy shouted, and slumped into a chair. “A fellow at work gave it to me. White elephant sort of thing. I told him I didn’t eat melons but he insisted. Said maybe it would inspire me. Bloody Yanks.”
Edina had taken a knife from the drawer and was carefully lining it up. “Mind if I open it up, maybe add some vodka for flavor?”
“Be my guest,” Patsy said, just as Saffron said, “Mum, no!”
It was too late. Edina brought the knife down hard on the watermelon. Then she looked over at Patsy, holding up the knife, bent where it had completely failed to penetrate the melon’s skin. “What kind of melon did you say this was?”
“It’s a bloody watermelon, that’s all I know.”
“Mum, let me do it. Go get your coffee, it’s percolating now.” Saffron took the knife away from Edina and shooed her toward the coffee. She looked at the knife, discarded it, and brought out a proper chef’s knife. “This ought to do the job.” She set the blade against the melon’s skin and sawed; no effect. Again: nothing.
She looked at Patsy. “Congratulations, Pats, you’ve discovered the world’s first stone watermelon.”
“Didn’t feel like stone,” Patsy said. “You’re probably just not cutting it right.”
Saffron knocked on the melon. “Sounds hollow. But it’s hard as iron.”
“Leave it for later,” Edina said, pouring coffee into a snowflake-themed mug. “Why don’t you make us some breakfast, sweetie? Something nice like eggs and toast.”
“None for me, thanks,” Patsy said, lifting a champagne glass neither Saffron nor Edina was quite sure they’d seen her pour.
“Yeah, okay, mum,” Saffron said, hoisting the melon off the counter and setting about making breakfast.
“It’s just that I went to all the effort of wearing the fur,” Patsy said. “Chose it specially from the magazine’s closet. And they didn’t even notice me.”
“There, there,” Edina said. “I’m sure it’s not you. Maybe they were all out throwing paint on Princess Di.”
“I could have been a princess.” Patsy sighed, long and dramatic. “Mostly I blame my mother.”
“What does your mother have to do with you not being a princess?” Saffron asked over her shoulder.
“Well, she wasn’t a queen, was she?” Patsy snapped back.
“Are you doing anything for Christmas?” Edina asked.
“The usual. Well, I might go to Paris. The Eiffel Tower is so grand this time of year. So tall and massive…”
“Bed a little empty lately, then?” Saffron asked.
Patsy scoffed. “Like you’d know.” Saffron smirked and kept cooking. “Anyway, what are you doing?”
“Oh, the usual. Decorating, singing carols, sitting by the fire, roasting a goose…”
“We never do any of that,” Saffron said.
“Well, we should!”
“You know, Dad asked me to come over today.”
“I know he did.” Saffron and Patsy stopped to look at Edina, and she started. “I mean, oh, he did, did he?”
“You knew about it?” Saffron asked.
“Well, he called and told me, and I told him absolutely not, we had Christmas plans,” Edina said.
“And...?”
“And then he said it wasn’t my decision and he’d let you make it.”
“Oh, mum,” Saffron said. “This was all just an attempt to try to get me to stay here today?”
Edina smiled. “Did it work?”
“Sorry, no. I’m going to Dad’s after lunch.”
“Well!” Edina sprang from her chair. “I see the way of things now. Alone, all alone, on Christmas, neither friend nor fruit of my loins to comfort me. Well, fine. I don’t need either of you!” She began to stomp upstairs, but as her foot found the first step, the lights and synthesizer on the tree started up again. In shock, Patsy tossed the contents of her glass at the tree.
It began to spark, the synthesizer took on a funny warble, and then the tree went up in flames.
“I’ll handle this,” Saffron said, pulling a fire extinguisher from the cupboard and pointing it at the tree, which was beginning to blacken the ceiling and counters nearby. She pulled the trigger, and a weak stream of fluid leaked out the nozzle. She looked at the tag: “GOOD THROUGH: 1981”.
Then she looked at her mother and Patsy. “I think we’d better get out of here.”
The next thing any of them knew, they were standing out in the cold, Edina still in her pyjamas but with a blanket wrapped around her, Patsy sipping from another glass, Saffron staring in shock, as firefighters hosed down the Monsoon house.
Patsy shrugged. “I really ought to go if I’m going to catch the new train to Calais.” She turned and left, raising her hand to flag a cab.
Saffron looked up at Edina. “I think maybe it would be best if I went to Dad’s house today.” She squeezed her mother’s arm and left in the opposite direction.
Edina was left alone, looking at her smoking house.
One of the firefighters came up to her, carrying the watermelon. “We found this in the kitchen. Untouched, not even soot on it. Mind telling us what it was?”
Edina looked down at it. “Christmas watermelon,” she said. “It’s a tradition. You can have it.”
She looked to her right, where Saffron had gone. Then she turned to her left. “Patsy, wait for me!” she called, running barefoot down the sidewalk.