‘Because it’s tradition. Traditions are important.’
‘Then it should at least have the decency to be delicious,’ he sulked. ‘Come on, let’s get it over with.’
‘Be there in a sec,’ I pointed to the rest of the dishes. ‘Don’t start without me.’
‘Why not? You’ve already suffered through this once already, do yourself a favour and don’t bother.’
Manny opened the kitchen door with his hip and carried the pudding into the dining room. I heard a chorus of cheers go up around the table.
‘I didn’t even get any bloody pudding though, did I?’ I muttered to myself, staring into the remains of theparsnips and wondering whether or not it was worth putting what was left in the fridge.
And then it hit me.
I didn’t eat the pudding.
‘What if it’s not a curse?’ I said aloud. ‘What if it’s a wish?’
My pale reflection stared back at me from the kitchen window. Whoever finds the sixpence in their pudding makes a wish. What if the person who found the sixpence made a wish and trapped me here?
‘That’s got to be it,’ I whispered, a very certain feeling running through my bones. ‘It’s that bloody sixpence. Someone made a wish.’
And, I realized as another cheer went up in the next room, there was every chance they were about to do it again.
‘Nobody touch that pud!’ I yelled as I tore into the dining room wild-eyed and desperate.
‘Gwen?’ Dad replied, serving spoon in his right hand. ‘Are you all right?’
The Christmas pudding sat on the table in front of him, already alight, blue flames licking at its sides and flickering worryingly close to the centrepiece. Mum really had gone to town on the brandy this year. But I could google whether or not Sylvanian Families were flammable later, right now, I had to get my mitts on that pudding,en flambéor otherwise.
‘Don’t panic!’ I shouted, immediately inciting panic around the table. ‘I’ve got it!’
Without another thought, I grabbed the platter, flaming pudding and all, and turned around, running out of thedining room, through the kitchen, and was out the back door before anyone could stop me.
‘Gwen! Come back!’
I heard Mum calling my name as I sprinted it down the garden, the flaming pudding rolling around in circles on the platter as I went. My slippers were long gone but I didn’t stop to look for them, the sooner I got rid of this thing, the sooner things could get back to normal and that was worth a potential splinter and a pair of singed eyebrows. Puffing and panting as I reached the swings, I looked over my shoulder to see the entire family, bar Nan, watching from the other end of the garden.
‘Is it the pudding?’ Manny called.
‘It’s the pudding!’ I confirmed with a yell. ‘I have to get rid of it!’
‘Yeet it!’ he screamed joyously at the top of his lungs. ‘Yeet it into the sun, Gwen!’
And yeet it I did.
With all the momentum of my spirited run, I pulled my arms back and hurled the pudding as far and as hard as I could, using the platter as a launching pad to chuck the flaming ball of suet and dried fruit over the fence. It flew through the air like a Christmas comet, the blue flames burning out as it arced gracelessly over the fence into the neighbour’s garden and crashed, face first, into Dev Jones.
‘Dev!’
I leapt over the fence and raced to the spot where he lay flat on his back, spreadeagled in his lovely grey coat and well-fitting trousers, his eyes closed.
‘I didn’t see you,’ I said as I fell to my knees at his side. ‘I swear I didn’t see you!’
‘That’s a relief, I suppose,’ he murmured. His eyelids fluttered open and his big, unfocused eyes met mine. In spite of his current condition, my former friend smiled as he realized who I was and in spite of everything else, I smiled back. ‘Hello, stranger.’
‘You’re engaged,’ I said, the words falling out my mouth before I could stop them.
‘Good work, Gwen, you’ve concussed the neighbour.’ Mum pushed me out of the way, crouched down on the ground beside me and took Dev’s hand in hers, patting it gently. ‘Now, Dev, can you hear me? Did you bump your head? Can you taste pennies?’