How the In-Laws Wrecked Christmas. Fiona Gibson

of her veil.

      ‘I just feel a bit uncomfortable,’ I add.

      Ben’s face softens. ‘Look, I know they’re a bit stiff. They probably don’t know how to be with you. I haven’t brought anyone back since Louisa and I split up. But they’ll warm up, and it’ll be fine …’

      ‘What did your mum mean when she said, “I didn’t expect …”’

      Ben looks baffled.

      ‘When we arrived,’ I prompt him. ‘She looked a bit shocked …’

      ‘I’ve no idea,’ he says with a shrug.

      ‘You did tell them I was coming, didn’t you?’

      ‘Of course I did!’ he exclaims. ‘D’you really think I’d just spring you on them?’

      ‘No idea,’ I say truthfully, because in fact I don’t know what to think.

      In the vast bathroom I sit on the loo, figuring that maybe it’s normal in these circles to display wedding pictures, even post-divorce. And maybe it’s me who’s weird, and not properly grown-up, still living with friends like a student.

      I get up and study my reflection in the gilt-edged mirror above the wash basin. Cheap hair, cheap dress … even my red lipstick looks wrong. It seemed perfect when I chose it, but maybe there is