‘It’s not all the time, just whenever you’re near,’ she answered, her voice hot. ‘Why do you always think you know better than everyone else?’
‘Nobody panic!’ Dad shouted from the bottom of the garden as Cerys and I faced off. ‘There’s a loose wire, that’s all. I’ll have it all sorted in a minute.’
‘I do not,’ I blustered, heat burning out of my cheeks as our neighbours turned their attention away from my dad and towards the two of us. ‘You’re the one who thinks you’re better than the rest of us because you went to Oxford and married a complete tit.’
‘I don’t think I’m better than you because I went to Oxford!’ Cerys retorted.
‘And I’m not a tit,’ Oliver added.
‘Shut up, Oliver,’ we both said at the same time.
‘Confirmed tit.’ Manny put a mittened hand on my shoulder and squeezed. ‘Come on, Gwen, leave it. Let’s go home and I’ll make you a hot toddy.’
‘Yes, Gwen, leave it,’ Mum said, an awkward smile on her face as she rolled her eyes theatrically at Mrs Ahmed from two doors down.
But there was no stopping me now, I was on a roll. Everything I’d been holding down rushed up to the surface: losing Michael, the nonsense at work, living in a shit flat, the time Cerys drew a moustache on my favourite My Little Pony.
‘No!’ I knocked Manny’s hand away, all at once consumed by the rightful vindication of every wronged sibling ever to walk the earth. ‘It’s about time we had it out; what’s the problem, Cerys? Is this because I got a job at Abbott & Howe and you’re wasting your degree suing roadside cafes for making their coffee too hot?’
‘Almost there!’ Dad yelled, his face buried in a pile of gaudily decorated TNT. ‘Let’s have a countdown. Five!’
My sister’s dark eyes burned black.
‘That’s it, Gwen, I don’t care anymore. I’ve had it up to here with you.’
‘Have you now?’ I replied as half the village counteddown with my dad and the other half hung on our every word. ‘Well, that makes two of us.’
‘Four!’ roared the crowd.
Dad dashed back up the garden and threw his arm around Mum’s shoulders, blissfully unaware of the catfight of the century.
‘I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of Mum and Dad,’ Cerys snapped. ‘But I don’t know how you dare insult my job.’
‘Three!’
‘Hang on, have I missed something?’ Dad looked at me and Cerys, burning with rage, and Mum and Manny, burning with embarrassment. ‘Are you two arguing again?’
‘Two!’
‘Because it’s a shit job,’ I replied, prodding her in the chest. ‘You’re ripping people off for a living and you know you are.’
‘At least I have a job,’ she shouted at the top of her voice, before turning to our parents and bellowing with a victorious smirk. ‘Gwen got sacked for attacking a client!’
‘One!’
‘Merry bloody Christmas,’ Manny groaned as all the rockets exploded, Mum and Dad’s shocked faces awash in red, green and gold light. ‘And a Happy New Year.’
CHAPTER SIX
The ground beneath us shook as rockets whizzed up into the air, filling the snowy sky with multicoloured sparkles before the Widow Makers detonated with an ungodly roar. Gazing at the firework display, I wondered if there was still time to chuck myself on top of the Apocalypse Now rather than deal with the fallout of Cerys’s accusation.
‘Gwen?’ Dad looked at me with misty eyes, his face a picture of confusion. ‘What’s she talking about?’
‘Oliver’s friend works at Abbott & Howe and he told us everything,’ Cerys answered before I could even try to explain. ‘She attacked a client, beat him up with a staple gun, and they fired her. It happened weeks ago and she hasn’t had the guts to tell you.’
‘That’s not – not true! That’s not what happened!’ I protested, Dorothy’s punch bubbling in my stomach as the Catherine wheels whirred into life, sparks flying everywhere.
‘You mean you didn’t attack a client?’ Dad asked, heartbreakingly hopeful.