I walked towards the entrance to see what she was pointing to. I stood in the doorway, my brain struggling to keep up with what my eyes were relaying.
George lay outside on the gravel, a ladder toppled over and lying at his side. One of his legs was hoisted upwards, tangled in a mass of Christmas lights that still partially dangled from the canopy above. He was staring at the sky, rain falling onto his face. Miles was poised over him with his arms straight, his hands over his heart as he administered chest compressions.
I clamped my hand over my mouth as I wordlessly watched the Christmas lights flickering in their merry dance, chasing one after the other around his leg.
I could hear Uncle Fergus on the phone asking how long the ambulance would take.
A hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me. I looked around to find Callum with a glazed, far-off look in his eyes as led me back inside. I glanced back over my shoulder to see Miles giving George mouth-to-mouth.
‘We think he fell,’ Callum managed. ‘Or– or maybe he had a heart attack.’ He squeezed my arm tightly and we held on to each other, Martha joining us as we huddled together, unsure of where to go and what to do with ourselves.
‘I can’t believe it,’ I said shakily. ‘This is just awful!’ I pressed the kids into me, burying my face in their hair and holding on for dear life, hoping for their and Miles’s sake that this wasn’t going to be as bad as it looked. Perhaps George would miraculously pull through…
That’s when I noticed Jeannie, sitting ramrod straight in a carved wooden chair next to the grandfather clock. Her eyes locked onto the open doorway.
‘You’re letting all the warm air out,’ she snapped. ‘Shut the door please, Martha.’
I blinked, my mind lagging. Was the old shrew more concerned about the open door than her husband lying lifeless in the rain? Perhaps what she meant wasYou’re letting all the warm air out… and George back in.
‘Um, o-okay,’ Martha said as she released herself from my arms. She crossed to the entrance, and before she closed the door, I saw that Fergus was now crouched next to Miles. He stared down at George and fisted his hands into the eight grey hairs he had left.
‘Do you think he’ll be okay, Mum?’ Callum asked quietly.
‘I hope so, darling,’ I said, his brown hair ruffling under my breath. I could hear a siren in the distance, and I breathed deeply to try to steady the hammering of my heart against my ribcage.
A moment later, the door flew open again and slammed into the wall behind it, causing me and the kids to jump out of our skin. Fergus stood there breathlessly.
‘Is the ambulance here, Fergus?’ Jeannie asked, as if he hadn’t nearly ripped the front door off its hinges.
‘It’s here,’ Fergus replied dourly, ‘but this is why we hire help, Jeannie!’ he shouted, red in the face.
But Jeannie just sat with her hands folded in her lap, waiting.
4
SECRETS, SAUSAGES AND STIFF UPPER LIPS
12thDecember 2025
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me… George Weiss trussed up like a Christmas tree. He’d moaned about those lights for days. Perhaps subconsciously he knew they’d be the death of him.
He had no idea I’d stripped back the wire.
As I watched him decking the halls, he called down to me and put his thumb up to signal I should turn them on. I whacked the plug into the outlet. The lights burned brightly– too bright– pink, blue, red, yellow. Then the sparks flew. He held onto them for dear life, almost as if he was incapable of letting go. But it wasn’t that that killed him– no, what finally put an end to his miserable life was when I gave the ladder a good kick from under him and he went crashing down onto the patio.
‘Mrs Harlow is an absolute gem, really she is.’ Jeannie’s voice sounded raw. It was the first time she had spoken in the three hours since men in smart suits had come to take George’s body away. Blots of mascara clustered in the corners of her eyes, the only visible sign that she’d had any sort of reaction.
The family sat in silence, the rain beating an incessant drum upon the windowpane outside. No one had the ability to respond; a shell-shocked silence permeated the sitting room.
She continued, voice wobbling, ‘Not only has she said she would see to the– the arrangements, but she’s also offered to help me with the tropical Christmas party.’
Fergus let his let his hand drop from his face as he studied her with his mouth open.
‘What’s this?’ he exclaimed. ‘Tropical Christmas party? You’ve got to be bloody joking, Jeannie!’
‘No, I’m not joking, Fergus!’ she said, wide-eyed. ‘And don’t you swear at me. It’s our turn to host our friends this year, the invites have been out for months, and I’ve already spent a fortune on it.’
‘Mum,’ Miles began, ‘do you really think that’s appropriate?—’
