Mary strode into the supermarket, her heart hammering. It was midday on December 24, and she had to be quick if she was to pull off catering for 8 people for a lavish Christmas lunch with all the trimmings.

At the trolley bay, an elderly lady doddered around trying to dislodge the jammed trolley from its host trolley. Mary danced behind her, taking deep breaths, mouthing under her breath “Hurry up you stupid old fucker.”

The old lady turned and smiled, and Mary immediately put a smile on. “Let me help,” she said, roughly pulling the trolley until it dislodged itself with a clang.
“Thank you my dear,” the lady trilled. “You are so kind.”

Mary yanked a trolley out for herself. “A pleasure, no problem at all,” as she pushed past and hurried into the fruit and veg section.

Now she thought, “chestnuts, coriander, eggs….” Her shopping list was written down on a scrap of paper in her handbag, but she dared not stop to search for it, instead she accessed the one she had in her overcrowded mind.

Every shopper was a ditherer and she willed herself to calm down, breathe in deeply and slow her beating heart. Her stomach lurched with hunger. The three black coffees she’d thrown back this morning while doing umpteen chores were churning in her gut.

She hadn’t had time to eat breakfast and now she was running on empty. She began throwing items randomly into the trolley, bananas (we always need them!), a cos lettuce, lemons, limes, a bunch of parsley…. Chestnuts!! Where the hell do I find chestnuts!

The nut aisle!

It was always the same. Dr Mary Creswell, competent, dignified, calm under pressure, respected by her patients and colleagues, became a blithering idiot every year around this time. She always seemed to leave everything till the last minute and there was always something on her list that was impossible to find. This year she needed chestnuts to make the nut roast she had promised her daughter Josie and her boyfriend Carl – both vegans. She wanted them to have more than just roast potatoes and peas like they had last year.

No chestnuts in the nut aisle. There were pecans, walnuts, almonds, macadamias… every bloody nut under the sun.

Angrily, hands shaking, she steadied herself, veering around an approaching trolley, narrowly missing running down a wandering toddler, and headed for the baking aisle where the dried fruit held the promise of potential chestnuts. She waited, foot tapping, while a couple perused the variety of sultanas, her eyes darting from package to package. “Chestnuts, chestnuts,” she mouthed.

No fucking chestnuts!

Mary thought her head would explode. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears and her mouth was so dry she could hardly swallow. I can’t do this, she thought.

And then she made a decision. Abandoning her full trolley, she marched out the supermarket, almost running through the checkout, feeling light and free without the groceries. She ordered a cappuccino and a doughnut at the nearest café and sank gratefully into one of the little cubicles. Rummaging in her bag, she pulled out her mobile and googled “Christmas Lunch in Sydney”. Her eyes landed on a restaurant offering Xmas Lunches and hit the phone icon.

“Good day. Otto. How can I help you today?” said a cheerful voice.

“Do you by any chance have space for 8 people for Christmas lunch?” Mary asked in her sweetest voice.

“You’re in luck,” came the voice over the phone. “We’ve just had a cancellation.”

Mary fought back tears of relief as she made a booking for tomorrow for eight people.