BooksBarbecue
Back Grow Save as PDF
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Title Page
  5. Intoroduction
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EITHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. SIXTEEN
  22. SEVENTEEN
  23. EIGHTEEN
  24. NINETEEN
  25. TWENTY
  26. TWENTY-ONE
  27. TWENTY-TWO
  28. TWENTY-THREE
  29. TWENTY-FOUR
  30. TWENTY-FIVE
  31. TWENTY-SIX
  32. TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. TWENTY-NINE
  35. THIRTY
  36. THIRTY-ONE
  37. THIRTY-TWO
  38. THIRTY-THREE
  39. THIRTY-FOUR
  40. THIRTY-FIVE
  41. THIRTY-SIX
  42. THIRTY-SEVEN
  43. THIRTY-EIGHT
  44. THIRTY-NINE
  45. FORTY
  46. FORTY-ONE
  47. FORTY-TWO
  48. FORTY-THREE
  49. FORTY-FOUR
  50. FORTY-FIVE
  51. FORTY-SIX
  52. FORTY-SEVEN
  53. FORTY-EIGHT
  54. FORTY-NINE
  55. FIFTY
  56. FIFTY-ONE
  57. FIFTY-TWO
  58. FIFTY-THREE
  59. FIFTY-FOUR
  60. FIFTY-FIVE
  61. FIFTY-SIX
  62. FIFTY-SEVEN
  63. FIFTY-EIGHT
  64. FIFTY-NINE
  65. SIXTY
  66. SIXTY-ONE
  67. SIXTY-TWO
  68. SIXTY-THREE
  69. SIXTY-FOUR
  70. SIXTY-FIVE
  71. SIXTY-SIX
  72. SIXTY-SEVEN
  73. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  74. CLIMATE EMERGENCY
  75. Copyright

Because of walking all the way up and down the high street twice, and doubling back again and again, we’re both exhausted, and flop down in front of the TV with more tea and mince pies. There’s a red glow around Mum’s cheeks. She stares at the screen but she’s not really watching.

‘That wasn’t bad, was it?’ I say.

‘Not completely unbearable,’ she replies a few seconds later; she took a while to realise I asked a question and come out of her trance.

‘I think we did quite well there, considering.’

‘Yes. Considering.’ She reaches across and squeezes my hand. ‘Hey, it is what it is.’

‘Yup. It is what it is.’

‘I meant what I said, Josh. About being here for you now. I’m sorry about the last few… This time of year… it’s…’

‘It is what it is, Mum.’ I smile.

So does she.

FIFTY-TWO

FIFTY TWO

And so we get Christmas out of the way. We get through it. We get to the other side.

In the end, I do put Mum’s present under the tree. She wells up when she opens it, but that’s not unexpected. She gives me a really big hug that leaves a wet patch on my shoulder from her tears. But I think I left one on her, too.

The bags that I wasn’t allowed to look in contain, amongst other things, a new coat. I’m glad of this, as the sleeve of my old one, where I didn’t get all the blood out from the gashes in my hand, is starting to smell a little bit. My hand itself is healing well. As Nanna used to be a nurse, she offers to change my bandage on Christmas eve; both of the deep cuts have sealed well, she says. They shouldn’t scar too badly. The dissolvable stitches are still there, just about, sticking out of the pink flesh like jagged teeth.

At dinner, I’m watched very carefully as I sip a glass of wine. Mum, Nanna and Grandad talk a bit about having responsible, positive role models for alcohol, and that it shouldn’t just be a blanket ban. I feel a little light-headed by the time the Christmas pudding gets set on fire, and the smell of the brandy doesn’t help. Nanna’s been working on it for months, and she looks a little concerned when Grandad jokes about how much booze is in it. He slaps me on the back, and everyone laughs.