‘And suing Marks & Spencer because some idiot fell on their arse in the changing room then taking seventy-five per cent of the settlement isn’t?’ I replied in a voice so shrill, the holly and the ivy trembled all the way down to their roots. ‘Seriously, isn’t anyone bothered about the post office? What if I needed traveller’s cheques on a Monday? What if I needed stamps?!’
‘Crackers!’ Manny said loudly, waving his Christmas cracker in the air. ‘For the love of God, let’s pull the crackers.’
‘And we haven’t even had our mains yet,’ Nan said, her eyes glinting as we all picked up our crackers and did as we were told for the very last time that day.
It wasn’t even half past three by the time the turkey was cleared away from the table but Oliver was already glassy-eyed as Dad opened a third bottle of wine.
‘Did you know I was a silver service waiter when I was at Magdalen?’ he slurred, snapping at a napkin with his fork and spoon, clutched between his thumb and forefingers like salad servers. ‘I’m amazing at this. Kids, watch Daddy.’
‘For God’s sake, Oli,’ Cerys muttered as he dropped his cutlery, both children sniggering behind their hands. ‘You’re almost as bad as the kids.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Manny said. ‘He’s much worse than the kids.’
She glared at him over the pointy grey ears of the Virgin Mary but he continued to drink his wine calmly, giving her nothing but a wink.
‘Here comes the pud!’
By the time Mum came sailing into the dining room, carrying the most beautiful Christmas pudding I’d ever seen, things were almost back to normal. Against all odds, we’d made it to my favourite part of lunch – not the dessert itself, no onereallyliked Christmas pudding – but a very special tradition. The Baker family Christmas wish.
‘None for the kids if it’s got brandy in it,’ Cerys said as Mum set the pudding platter in the middle of the table with a flourish.
I leaned in to give it a sniff then reared back, my eyeswatering. ‘None for the kids then,’ I told her, choking on the fumes.
‘Oliver can’t have any because of his nut allergy and don’t cut me a massive piece because I won’t eat it.’
‘No one eats it, you mush it up and push it around your plate until we all agree we’ve suffered enough,’ Manny said, checking the time on his phone then pulling a face. ‘Let her get on with it so we can leave the table while we’re still young.’
I nudged him with my knee. ‘Expecting a call?’
He made a variety of mumbling, clucking noises under his breath before shaking his head and slipping his phone underneath his thigh, out of sight.
Hmm, I thought, curious. It wasn’t like Manny to be anything other than spectacularly and brutally honest.
‘You all know the drill,’ Dad said, waving at the pudding platter. ‘Whoever finds the sixpence gets their wish granted but you can’t tell anyone what it is or the wish won’t come true!’
‘What about last year when Manny almost choked on it?’ Cerys asked. ‘He hardly kept that to himself.’
‘And my wish clearly didn’t come true, did it?’ he replied, staring directly at her very drunk husband.
‘It’s a new sixpence this year,’ Mum said brightly, a huge serving spoon in her hand. Ignoring our bickering was her superpower. ‘I wasn’t sure how hygienic it was to use the old one after … the unpleasantness.’
‘She means when you threw it up,’ Cerys stage whispered to Manny.
‘Steve, have you got the matches for the pudding?’ Mum’s eyes glowed maniacally as she gestured to the glossy dessert.
‘Matches, matches, matches.’ Dad patted himself down, a gentle frown on his face. ‘Must be in the kitchen, excuse me a mo.’
‘If anyone’s going to throw up this year, it’ll be your husband,’ Manny hissed, peering around the centrepiece at my brother-in-law. ‘He’s gone the full Bruce Bogtrotter over there. Don’t poke him whatever you do, he’ll explode.’
‘Did I tell you Bernard and Lesley across the road put a pool in?’ Mum asked in a high-pitched voice. Truly, her ability to block us out was astounding. ‘They’ve done a nice job, it’s in a greenhouse-type thing so you can use it all year round. She’s going to let us do water aerobics on Wednesdays.’
Oliver clumsily rested one elbow on the table and pointed in Manny’s general direction.
‘Why are you so obsessed with me?’ he asked, his tipsy tongue struggling to make sense of his ‘s’ sounds. ‘You’ve been staring at me ever since we got here.’
‘That’s because I’ve never seen a human put away that many potatoes in one sitting,’ Manny shrugged. ‘It’s very impressive.’
‘I think you fancy me,’ Oliver replied with a sloppy chuckle. ‘I think you’re in love with me.’