‘Oh, Dad, don’t.’ I rushed towards him and wrapped him up in a hug. ‘Please don’t cry.’
First I reduced Mum to tears and now Dad? I really was on a roll.
‘I had all the old videos transferred when I lost my mum,’ he explained in between sniffles. ‘But when they came, I couldn’t bring myself to watch so I hid them. I miss them all so much, Gwen, I really do.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said as he blew his nose on Mum’s commemorative royal wedding tea towel that was very much for display purposes only. ‘When you said earlier, about bringing them back, I thought this would be a good way to remember them properly. It’s like you always used to say about a complicated case, sometimes you’ve got to look backwards before you can go forwards, isn’t it?’
He honked on the tea towel once more before setting it down on the kitchen top.
‘I know you said Granny and Grandad wouldn’t want you to ruin Christmas for everyone else but I don’t thinkthey’d want you to ruin it for yourself either,’ I said as the kettle beeped to let us know it was ready, my dad’s bottom lip starting to tremble once more. ‘Keeping everything inside doesn’t make it hurt less, Dad, you’re just sealing it up to fester.’
And I knew that was true because I’d done it to myself. Burying my sadness hadn’t made me any happier. Pretending I was fine had resulted in chucking a stapler at the son of a billionaire and a two-week suspension from my job. Hardly a stellar recommendation for the keep calm and carry on approach.
‘You might be right about the videos,’ he said quietly as he placed the lid onto the teapot with a decisive clink, two fat tears running down his cheeks. ‘There’s no point hiding them away in the loft, is there? Arthur and Artemis didn’t even recognize them, they don’t even know who they are.’
‘Then let’s go and tell them,’ I suggested as he sandpapered his eyes with a manly sheet of kitchen towel. ‘I bet they’d love to hear your stories.’
‘Do you think so?’ he asked, full of hope.
‘Probably not, no, theyreallywant to watchElf,’ I admitted, smiling when he chuckled. ‘But it’s Christmas and Christmas is about family. Not everyone gets a good one, do they?’
With a nose so red it would make Rudolph jealous, he kissed me on the forehead.
‘You are getting very wise, chicken. Must take after your mum,’ he said before taking the milk out of the fridge and splashing it into each of the mugs. ‘It’s no wonder you’re doing so well at work if you can even make your stubborn old dad see sense, lucky them, I say.’
‘Right,’ I agreed, heart sinking back down into the pit of my stomach as I accepted my cup of tea with a big fake smile. ‘Lucky, lucky them.’
By the time Dad and I sat ourselves down on the settee, the 1980-something Baker Christmas dinner had turned into the 1980-something Baker Christmas party. On the static-y screen, I saw brightly coloured paper crowns on top of everyone’s massive hair, both grandads had taken off their ties and anyone wearing long sleeves had long since rolled them up. Everyone except for Nan, of course, she still looked immaculate. Granny, Grandad and Uncle Jim took it in turns to dance with tiny Cerys, and as big Cerys watched the scene play out, there was a smile on my sister’s face that I hadn’t seen in years.
‘Happy memories, Care?’ I said, poking her with my big toe.
‘Yes,’ she replied as she squeezed my foot until I squealed. ‘Before you were born.’
‘Who’s that?’ Arthur asked, putting down his Nintendo Switch to point at the screen as I rubbed the feeling back into my foot. ‘The man in the stripy t-shirt?’
‘That’s my brother, your Great-Uncle Jim,’ Dad said, hoisting his grandson up into his lap. ‘He’s Uncle Manny’s daddy.’
Arthur’s smooth little brow creased with confusion. ‘Why isn’t he here?’
‘Uncle Jim died before you were born,’ Cerys answered as my dad wiped away another tear. I rose to make a dash for the royal wedding tea towel but there was no need. Nan reached over to hand him a clean handkerchief from her handbag and Dad accepted it with a grateful smile.
‘Handsome devil, was Jim,’ Nan said, ruffling Arthur’s hair as Dad dabbed at his eyes. ‘Now I come to think of it, I’d say there’s a bit of him in you, around the eyes. Don’t you think so, Steven?’
‘I do,’ Dad agreed, sniffing into the hankie then stuffing it up his sleeve. ‘Two good-looking lads, the pair of you. He loved video games as well, couldn’t get enough of Pacman, he had the highest score in the village.’
Arthur scrunched up his entire face and for one minute, he really did look like my Uncle Jim.
‘What’s a Pacman?’ he asked.
‘Christ, I think I just felt myself age.’ Mum pressed a hand against her forehead. ‘Don’t worry about it, Arthur.’ She moved her hand to Dad’s shoulder and he quickly covered it with his own. ‘We should watch these every year, make it a Christmas tradition.’
‘Anything’s better than the bloodyGrinch,’ Cerys said. ‘I’m in.’
Dad leaned over to nudge me gently in the ribs. ‘Thank you, chicken,’ he whispered. ‘This is even better than what I wished for.’
Smiling, I sipped my tea and made a wish of my own, hoping that this time it would come true.
CHAPTER ELEVEN