Page 62 of Break the Ice

‘Elf-is Presley.’

He howls, making Norah look over, and she smiles and does a signal asking if he’s had too much to drink. He’s stopped drinking though because he knows he has to drive home. Seriously, I think this is just him drunk on joy.

‘So, esteemed children and family,’ my dad says, rising. ‘I’d like to say this is all me but I just did the shopping and got the tables out of the shed, this is all Norah, Flo and Ben and their handiwork, so a toast to them and us and Christmas and—’ He stops for a moment. ‘All being here together, it’s my favourite thing.’

I see him go a bit misty-eyed as he scans the table, and I raise my glass high, proud to be here. ‘To Christmas!’ I yell, because Joshua might not be drunk but I am, just a little bit, because I needed to restore the warmth to my body. There are toasts, clinks of drinking receptacles and kisses to the tops of heads and then the loudest clamour, of the meal being declared open. The way we all pass around steaming dishes of stuffing, veggies, meat and gravy and pile our plates high. There are kids running off to the kitchen to give Steve some pigs in blankets, Ben smelling the gravy before flooding his plate, Flo licking cranberry sauce off her fingers. I see Josh taking it all in.

‘Are those Yorkshire puddings?’ he whispers to me, pointing to a plate.

‘They are. Are you familiar with them?’ I ask him.

‘Yeah, with roast beef, right? I had a Sunday lunch in a pub once. I kinda don’t know where to start,’ he says, looking completely overwhelmed by it all.

‘Well, maybe start here,’ I say, passing him a bowl.

‘These are mashed potatoes,’ he says.

‘Yeah. We normally wouldn’t have these on Christmas Day but I rang ahead and said it was important that the chefs provide. Give you a taste of home,’ I say. He holds the bowl for a moment, staring at it. ‘They make frigging good mash too. Butter and cream…’

I smile at him as he furrows his brow for a moment, then leans over and kisses me on the cheek. I see Norah catching that and nudging Ben, next to her.

‘I didn’t make the potatoes,’ I remind him.

‘But that’s a nice thing to have done, thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. Now eat, because Theo there is a demon for the cauliflower cheese and you don’t want to miss out on that.’

He sighs and starts piling his plate. I nudge him playfully. Is he crying? Over potatoes? I really hope not, because we had sex and I really don’t want him to be known in the future as the crying potato boy.

‘You’re a bloody cheat and I hate you. Take it. All of it. Sister, my arse…’

All of us sit around this Monopoly board in hysterics. Norah, as per usual, is losing, and is really intent on throwing her toys out of the pram to let us know how she feels about that. The children watch in horror as she throws a red plastic hotel in Flo’s direction and Ben tries to referee.

‘So tell me why you’re not allowed to play Monopoly again?’ Joshua asks me as we sit on the sofa by the fire, digesting our Christmas lunch. It was a feast of epic proportions and my stomach is so very happy to be here, to be swimming in all this festivity and be around all these beautiful people I get to call family. I feel full in every sense of the word, sitting here in an almost dreamlike state. I mean, I’m also drunk, but it’s Christmas – it’s tradition to be a nice gentle mix of all the spirits.

‘Oh, you think Norah gets mad, I had a proper rage one year and threw all the money in the fire,’ I explain.

‘We had to buy a new board!’ Flo says from across the room.

‘We are generally a loving family until Monopoly comes out,’ I add.

Joshua takes another spoon of Christmas pudding drowning in double cream.

‘So how’s that working for you?’ I ask, grinning as I remember the moment when my dad brought it out of the kitchen, all lit up, and he clapped. It’s the most American thing he’s done thus far.

‘It’s fruity,’ he says. ‘You Brits like it rich, eh? With the pudding and the mince pies and the cheese and the port.’

‘It’s our one big day of excess. We go big,’ I tell him.

‘Indeed.’

I watch him as he scans the room from his place on the sofa, looking at the kids playing with new toys, my dad snoozing by the fire, The Sound of Music on in the corner of the room, the volume low. The floor is a big mess of wrapping paper, a selection of cups and glasses are lying around, and Joshua looks so peaceful, so happy. He fits into all of this so nicely. His phone pings and he reaches over and reads the message. I don’t want to mention that ex of his again but I also hope he’s not engaging with her. She doesn’t deserve his good energy today of all days. ‘Oh…’ he says, staring at the screen.

I feel ready to fight that Avery girl, I really do. ‘It’s just an alarm telling me to feed your sister’s fish,’ he says, sitting up, almost like he’s remembering where he is and where he’s supposed to be. He brings up some weather and traffic reports on his phone. ‘I guess I really should be thinking about making a move.’

‘Oh,’ I say sadly. A part of me really doesn’t want him to go. I’ve strangely loved having him here. Without him I would have been the single sibling, the fun aunty, the one getting shitfaced with Dad and dancing on my own, so it’s been nice to have a companion here, a warm body next to mine with whom to share a bowl of Christmas pudding. Plus, in this light and with this alcohol in my system, he is looking fit. I can understand why last night happened. He has excellent teeth. I bet he flosses. But I shake my head to put those sorts of thoughts to bed. You’ve known the man for a mere twenty-four hours. You don’t need him. The fish need him or they’ll die. At Christmas. And then your beautiful nieces won’t have any pets at all because it turns out one of them is allergic to dogs.

‘I’m really sad,’ I say out loud, wondering if that was too impulsive.