They would giggle together, eyes fixed on the bedroom door in case they were caught being naughty, the sense of conspiracy making her feel secure. Her great-grandmother knew everything, and if Shelly ever strayed from the facts, Gran Gertie fixed her in a stare and slowly pulled in her chin. Shelly’s heart would pound and in seconds she would breathlessly blurt out the truth, regardless of the consequences.

When times became difficult, Shelly would scramble into Gran Gertie’s lap, her head resting on that pillowing bosom as she stuck her thumb in her mouth. Gertie was the only person in the world who didn’t tell her off for sucking her thumb. Shelly still smiled at the thought of her.

She stared into the junk room. Her mother’s treasured doll’s house, the ivory teething ring with a silver teddy dangling, a box of diecast cars, and the brass steam engine that really worked were loved toys.

‘They’ll be worth a few bob now,’ Dad had muttered, but he still packed the toys away. She slid the lid off another box, and found a pile of seasonal sweaters.

*

Physically and emotionally exhausted, Shelly slipped into bed at midnight and quickly fell to sleep thinking about that last Christmas. For the three days of the holiday, Mum made Dad wear a different Christmas jumper. Shelly felt a giggle hopping around in her belly as she remembered how he hated them.

‘If you love me, you’ll wear it,’ Mum challenged as she tugged the green crewneck that bore a ridiculous, grinning Rudolf with square, white teeth over his head.

Their happy marriage was glued together by compromises. ‘I’ll only do it if . . .’ was commonly uttered, and Shelly was captivated by the sometimes bizarre deals struck to secure their relationship.

However, Shelly was not granted this bargaining power, she simply had to do as she was told.

‘Mum, I’m sixteen! I did realise some time ago, there isn’t really a Santa Claus, you know!’

Mum threw her head back and laughed. ‘Shelly, darling, stop being a pain! You can pout all you like, you’re not coming into town with me.’

‘But why not? We always shop together on Christmas Eve. The sales will be starting this afternoon.’

‘I’m going to pick up a special present and I don’t want you around. That’s the end of it. I’m leaving you in charge of the mince pies. Take them out of the oven when the timer goes and pop them onto the wire rack. Mind you don’t burn yourself. I’m just going to have a word with your father.’ Her big brown eyes sparkled with all the merriment of Christmas as she pulled on her coat. ‘He’s around the back, having a Christmas jumper sulk and picking sprouts for dinner tomorrow. So, give me a kiss, my darling daughter, and don’t let the mince pies burn.’