Greg and I both reached for one at the same time. There were no plates so I took a bite and crumbs spilled all over my trousers.
Finally, Dad had eased the paper off his present and he held it up to take a closer look. It was a clock exactly like the one he’d always loved that had sat on the mantelpiece throughout my childhood, but that he had lost many years ago, no doubt buried somewhere deep in one of these boxes. Although this would almost certainly follow the same fate, I’d always loved it and hoped he’d understand why I’d chosen it.
‘It’s wonderful, thank you.’ He looked around for somewhere to put it to no avail, so I took it from his hand and placed it next to the Christmas tree on the makeshift table. Its quiet tick was the only sound we could hear for a few seconds as we all munched on slightly dry pastry.
‘Shall I open a bottle of wine?’ I said.
‘Not before dinner.’
‘Oh, I brought you this,’ I said, remembering the bottle of Baileys.
‘Ah thank you Reeny.’ Dad smiled. ‘It’s not Christmas without a bottle of Baileys eh?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?’ Greg asked.
‘No it’s all under control. It will be ready in an hour or so.’ Greg and I had offered to cook but Dad had insisted. I had no idea how he’d even managed to find the oven let alone pots and pans but I didn’t question it.
I sat back for a moment and fiddled with the perfume bottle. The scent was strong, and it was making me feel nostalgic.
‘Can I put some music on?’ I said suddenly.
‘If you like.’ Dad shrugged. ‘Although I don’t know whether the stereo is working; I only ever listen to the radio.’
A quick glance at the stereo didn’t look promising. There was a thick layer of dust across its cover and a wire trailing out from behind it. It was wedged tightly behind a heavy looking box.
Not to be put off, I stood and hauled the box away, coughing as dust floated up my nose.
‘The CDs are in there I think,’ Dad said. I wondered how he knew where anything was among the chaos. Carefully, I prised open the flaps of the tatty cardboard box to reveal dozens and dozens of plastic CD cases. The dust was just as thick in here, and I wiped the top layer away with my sleeve. I pulled a few from the top, then some more. Finally, right down at the bottom, I found what I was looking for.
‘Got it!’ I exclaimed.
‘What is it?’ Greg said.
‘Just you wait.’ I got down on my hands and knees, pulled the plug free and clipped it into the socket, then switched the stereo on. To my surprise it lit up instantly, and I placed the CD carefully in the drawer and closed it, then pressed play. Seconds later, jingling bells crackled from the ancient music station, and it was as though I was eight years old again, Mum and Dad opening presents by the fire, and me surrounded by discarded wrapping paper and endless, forgettable toys, and a soaring, overly large Christmas tree towering over me. A sense of happiness filled me and I stood and brushed the dust from my hands and shuffled my feet in the tiny section of floorspace that was free.
‘Dance Dance Christmas man,’ Dad said, a smile spreading across his face.
‘Isn’t this Jim Reeves?’ Greg said.
‘It is. But I used to call it Dance Dance Christmas man when I was little,’ I said, smiling.
‘Your mother always loved this,’ Dad said. ‘It went on the moment the Christmas tree arrived, do you remember?’
‘I do.’ It was so rare for Dad to talk about my mum these days I didn’t say any more. He’d always loved her so intensely, in a way that he’d never loved anything or anyone else – including me – that I understood how hard it had been for him when she’d stopped recognising him. It had broken his heart and I knew he found it easier not to talk about her at all, although I was in no doubt that he thought about her all the time.
‘Dance with me Dad,’ I said, holding my hands out.
‘Oh I can’t,’ he said.
But I refused to give up, and eventually he pushed himself up and took my hands in his and we stood, swaying gently along to the song until it came to an end. Dad looked happier than I’d seen him in years.
I let the album continue to play in the background as we sat back down.
‘I visited your mother yesterday.’
I started in surprise at Dad’s words. I knew he visited her occasionally, but he rarely mentioned it and I knew better than to ask.
