“The same time we have always done presents. Stockings before breakfast, main presents afterwards.”
They used the bathroom and pulled on clothes, Jenny wearing the festive red dress she wore every year.
They headed down to the kitchen, treading hard on the creaky stair several times until Jamie yelled, “why are you treading on the creaky stair?” to which his father replied “it’s revenge,” and then they sprinted to the kitchen giggling like children.
Half an hour later when the turkey was in the oven and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, people started to emerge.
“I mean, if you want to wake us up, Mum, just set an alarm,” Rosie said sleepily. “All that creaking made me think I was in a haunted house.” She was wearing red pyjamas covered in smiling white snowmen and her hair was tousled from sleep. The innocent effect was slightly ruined by the fact that the top fastened with a single button that was challenged by Rosie’s curves.
The back door opened and Percy shot into the kitchen, bringing with him snow and cold air. Martin followed, stamping snow off his boots. “Chilly out there. I hope Santa was wearing his thermals.”
“Martin, wipe the dog’s paws!” Jenny caught Percy and took him back to the door before he could leave snowy prints through the house.
“Dad, close the door!” Rosie shuddered and moved closer to the oven. “It’s freezing. I’m going to get inside the oven with the turkey.”
“Why is everyone yelling at me?” Martin closed the door. “Merry Christmas to you too. And you’re only freezing because you have flesh showing.”
Jenny grabbed the towel and dried Percy. She looked at Rosie, trying to remember the time when she’d had perfect smooth skin. “You’re not wearing enough clothing.”
“I’m not six, Mum. I can decide what I need to wear. And I was wearing plenty of clothing until Dad decided to open the door.”
“Why didn’t you get dressed before coming down?”
“Because of all the creaking. You obviously wanted us to get up, so I got up. Like a dutiful daughter. Here I am. Also, I have a special dress and I don’t want to drop my breakfast on it.”
“Who was going up and down the stairs?” Becky walkedin next, wearing jeans and a hoodie that hadthis is a Christmas jumperemblazoned on the front of it. “It was torture.”
Martin removed his boots. “Now you know what you put us through for all those years.”
Jamie walked in next, with Hayley. “I just bumped into Granny. She wants to know what the creaking sound was.”
“If Granny is up, then you really should get dressed, Rosie.” Jenny started laying the table.
“Why? It was Granny who gave me these pyjamas. It will be nice for her to see them.”
“You’re showing too much boobage,” Becky said. “Grandad is too old for that much flesh on display. Why are you laying the table for breakfast? We have to open our stockings first.”
Grumbling, Rosie left the room to dress in something more suitable and then they all convened in the living room.
Hayley opened the contents of her stocking and for some reason this was an emotional moment because she and Jamie exchanged looks and Jenny thought to herself that even when you thought you knew your family really well, you could never really know everything and perhaps that was good.
Later, after they’d all consumed breakfast (and her father had commented that it was good to have an actual meal at the right time of day), they went back to the living room to open the gifts piled under the Christmas tree.
And Jenny watched them, her amazing, complicated, surprising, wonderful family, and decided that this was her best gift. Being all together for Christmas. That was what she wanted.
“Why are you gazing at us in that weird way, Mum?” Rosie folded a ribbon. “Like you’re going to cry?”
“I’m not going to cry,” Jenny said. “It’s Christmas. Why would I cry?”
“Because you often cry at Christmas. You say things like ‘when you were little’ and then you come out with some hideously embarrassing story about something we did when wewere little and didn’t know better, something that is very probably still being held against us, and then you cry.”
“It’s true,” Jamie said. “You do that, Mum. So maybe this is a good time to give her our present.”
Rosie rummaged under the Christmas tree and pulled out a box. “Here,” she said. “Happy Christmas. From the three of us. This really will make you cry. Sorry not sorry.”
Jenny removed the paper carefully (so that she didn’t incur the wrath of her mother) and opened the box. Inside was a large photo album.
“Oh, it’s an actual physical album. What a great idea. I’ll be able to print some photos instead of having them all living on my phone where I never see them. In the sky, as Granny would say.”
