last bout. She was flushed and hot in the bed in the spare room. Eddie had come in from the pub well pissed and was snoring, oblivious. It was five a.m.
Della was utterly browned off. They could hardly go to Dublin if Kathryn was puking. The doctor had said not to have her around other children, as the bug was highly contagious even if it was
only a twenty-four-hour thing. She felt like crying. Such rotten luck. Christmas ruined. She supposed she should soak some aduki beans and take a leg of lamb or a joint of beef out of the freezer,
seeing as she had no turkey. She went to open the door and paused. She’d give it another hour or two. If Kathryn didn’t puke any more she’d take her chances. She wasn’t
going to let a bloody bug spoil her Christmas jaunt to Dublin.
Bobby stirred in the bed, conscious that he was cold. His feet were like two ice blocks. He was sleeping in his childhood divan and the duvet had slid off him. Noel,
parsimonious at heart, did not believe in keeping the heating running all night and the house had grown chill. He shivered and pulled the duvet back over him, burrowing down into the warm spot his
body had created. He had slept badly, his body tense and restless. He wanted to go back asleep but his mind was racing.
He knew Noel had been dismayed when he’d made his offer to go to Midnight Mass. ‘Carrie’s coming with me,’ his father had assured him hastily.
‘No, I told her to go to bed early. She’s tired from her pregnancy. I told her I’d go with you,’ he’d said firmly.
‘You’re grand. I can go myself; you go to bed. I’m sure that you’re tired after travelling. Go to Mass in the morning with the family,’ Noel urged.
‘I promised Carrie that I’d go with you and besides, I like Midnight Mass. I love the carols.’ Bobby dug his heels in.
‘Have you a proper coat? It’s cold,’ Noel said gruffly. The silence hung between them. Bobby knew well that his being cold was not the issue. The younger Bobby would have stood
his ground and resisted; the older, more mature young man that he now was let it pass.
Bobby had gone to Mass wearing an old green parka over his maroon jacket. He knew it was a compromise, but for Carrie’s sake he’d made a decision to try to get through the few days
at home with as little hassle as possible. If Shauna hadn’t been going abroad in the New Year, he might not have bothered coming home this year. But it might be their last time together as a
family for a while. He wanted to make the most of it.
‘Tanta Plause.’ Chloe stroked the cuddly miniature Santa at the end of her Christmas stocking and listened with delight to the musical chimes emanating from the
little xylophone Shauna was playing for her. It was seven forty-five a.m., the turkey was stuffed and in the oven, Greg was asleep and Shauna was playing with her daughter and sipping a welcome cup
of tea.
The aroma of roasting turkey was beginning to fill the kitchen and she inhaled it appreciatively. She wanted everyone to enjoy their Christmas dinner. The caterers that she used had delivered
several dozen tasty canapés, starters, soup, pudding and a selection of desserts, but she’d prepared the potatoes and vegetables that Carrie had brought. The ham was cooked and the
marrowfat peas were steeping. She and Greg had done as much preparation as they could the previous evening but had managed to get to bed before midnight so she wasn’t too exhausted.
She wouldn’t have minded some help stuffing the turkey and lifting it into the oven. It was very heavy and just about fitted, but Greg had rolled over when the alarm clock had shrilled
earlier and made no offer to help. Sometimes her husband could be decidedly selfish. His family was coming as well as hers; it wouldn’t have killed him to muck in a bit more.
Once the Christmas dinner was cooked and served she was downing tools, she decided. They could all help themselves to whatever they wanted afterwards and
Della was utterly browned off. They could hardly go to Dublin if Kathryn was puking. The doctor had said not to have her around other children, as the bug was highly contagious even if it was
only a twenty-four-hour thing. She felt like crying. Such rotten luck. Christmas ruined. She supposed she should soak some aduki beans and take a leg of lamb or a joint of beef out of the freezer,
seeing as she had no turkey. She went to open the door and paused. She’d give it another hour or two. If Kathryn didn’t puke any more she’d take her chances. She wasn’t
going to let a bloody bug spoil her Christmas jaunt to Dublin.
Bobby stirred in the bed, conscious that he was cold. His feet were like two ice blocks. He was sleeping in his childhood divan and the duvet had slid off him. Noel,
parsimonious at heart, did not believe in keeping the heating running all night and the house had grown chill. He shivered and pulled the duvet back over him, burrowing down into the warm spot his
body had created. He had slept badly, his body tense and restless. He wanted to go back asleep but his mind was racing.
He knew Noel had been dismayed when he’d made his offer to go to Midnight Mass. ‘Carrie’s coming with me,’ his father had assured him hastily.
‘No, I told her to go to bed early. She’s tired from her pregnancy. I told her I’d go with you,’ he’d said firmly.
‘You’re grand. I can go myself; you go to bed. I’m sure that you’re tired after travelling. Go to Mass in the morning with the family,’ Noel urged.
‘I promised Carrie that I’d go with you and besides, I like Midnight Mass. I love the carols.’ Bobby dug his heels in.
‘Have you a proper coat? It’s cold,’ Noel said gruffly. The silence hung between them. Bobby knew well that his being cold was not the issue. The younger Bobby would have stood
his ground and resisted; the older, more mature young man that he now was let it pass.
Bobby had gone to Mass wearing an old green parka over his maroon jacket. He knew it was a compromise, but for Carrie’s sake he’d made a decision to try to get through the few days
at home with as little hassle as possible. If Shauna hadn’t been going abroad in the New Year, he might not have bothered coming home this year. But it might be their last time together as a
family for a while. He wanted to make the most of it.
‘Tanta Plause.’ Chloe stroked the cuddly miniature Santa at the end of her Christmas stocking and listened with delight to the musical chimes emanating from the
little xylophone Shauna was playing for her. It was seven forty-five a.m., the turkey was stuffed and in the oven, Greg was asleep and Shauna was playing with her daughter and sipping a welcome cup
of tea.
The aroma of roasting turkey was beginning to fill the kitchen and she inhaled it appreciatively. She wanted everyone to enjoy their Christmas dinner. The caterers that she used had delivered
several dozen tasty canapés, starters, soup, pudding and a selection of desserts, but she’d prepared the potatoes and vegetables that Carrie had brought. The ham was cooked and the
marrowfat peas were steeping. She and Greg had done as much preparation as they could the previous evening but had managed to get to bed before midnight so she wasn’t too exhausted.
She wouldn’t have minded some help stuffing the turkey and lifting it into the oven. It was very heavy and just about fitted, but Greg had rolled over when the alarm clock had shrilled
earlier and made no offer to help. Sometimes her husband could be decidedly selfish. His family was coming as well as hers; it wouldn’t have killed him to muck in a bit more.
Once the Christmas dinner was cooked and served she was downing tools, she decided. They could all help themselves to whatever they wanted afterwards and
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