‘No,’ she said as I mimed the whiskers with my fingers. ‘I didn’t.’
‘Show’s over, let’s get back inside.’ Dad put his arm around her shoulders as they peered at me with the exact same uncertain expression on their very different faces. It must be nice, I thought, to share everything with someone, right down to facial expressions. Even if those expressions were deeply suspicious and aimed squarely at me.
I rose to my feet, about to follow them in, when I caught sight of a small, smouldering ball out of the corner of my eye. The pudding peeked out of the long grass that grew around the stream, looking as tasty as it had ever been (which was to say, not very). I climbed to my feet and walked calmly over to the fence before pulling back my leg and booting it into the water. With one sad splosh, it sank into the stream, never to be seen again.
‘And that’s the end of you,’ I declared, dusting off my hands as I set off to get on with my day and, hopefully, the rest of my life.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Gwen? Are you up?He’s been!’
I held my breath against an attack of accumulated carpet fluff that tickled my nostrils. The underneath of this bed hadn’t seen a vacuum cleaner in months, Nan would be furious.
‘Gwen?’ Dad said again, mildly befuddled as he popped his head around the door. ‘Where are you hiding?’
I said nothing.
‘Must be in the lav.’ He closed the door and made his way down to Manny’s room to inform him of the status of the bacon butties. As the door creaked shut, I breathed out, the slats of the bed base above me, the cream carpet below and nothing but existential dread as far as the eye could see. Raising the bottle of Baileys I’d already liberated from the kitchen to my lips, I looked at my phone again.
Rhiannon Liberty Conners, born at 4.47 a.m.
Punting the pudding hadn’t worked.
It was still Christmas Day.
The presents had been opened, Mum was in the kitchen, Dad out for his walk and Manny upstairs in the shower when I sat down at the dining table to gather my thoughts and fight off a panic attack. I need to come at this like it’s a case, I told myself, all I had to do was find the facts and let them lead me to the answers. But it was hard to look at facts when you were reliving the same day for the third time and you’d necked a quarter of a bottle of cream liqueur before breakfast. The sixpence was the culprit, I just knew it, but knowing wasn’t enough. Throwing the pudding away hadn’t worked because the wish was already made, nothing I did to it now would change a thing. It was time to try another tactic. The first thing I did when building a case? Gather as much information as possible. Know thine enemy.
‘Mum?’ I called through the serving hatch. A clattering of saucepans confirmed she had heard me. ‘Where did you get the new sixpence for the Christmas pudding?’
‘Where did I get the sixpence?’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘The new one?’
‘Yes, Mum.’
Her neon pink face appeared in the serving hatch, completely consumed by Christmas-cooking panic. ‘Amazon, I think.’
I’d been expecting her to say she found it down a little back alley or bought it from a man wearing a cloak and carrying a staff, but actually this made more sense. Amazon really did have everything, even magic sixpences.
‘Have you still got the packaging?’ I asked sweetly.
With a tut and a sigh, she pulled open a drawer,rummaged for a moment then chucked me a small, blue cardboard box through the hatch.
‘Thank you,’ I said, turning the box over to read the back. The Little Silver Sixpence Company, a division of Globotech Ltd, a subsidiary of Phetazon Inc. Sixpence is not safe for consumption. If Sixpence is consumed, seek medical attention. Sixpence is not dishwasher safe. Wishes not guaranteed.
‘Well, that’s useful,’ I said, making a mental reminder to go online and leave them a terrible review. Very shiny but may cause time loops. Two out of five stars.
‘Will that be all?’ Mum asked. ‘Because I’ve still got to pull a three-course meal for nine people out of my backside with no help.’
Dropping the box back on the table, I waved a hand in her general direction and nodded.
‘Very good, madam,’ she said with a brief curtsey. ‘Just once I wish one of you would offer to help.’
‘What did you say?’ I replied, my ears pricking.
‘I said it would be nice to have some help, but don’t you trouble yourself, Gwen, I’ll do it all, as usual.’