A Proper Family Christmas Read Free Page B

didn’t want to risk missing out just because he wasn’t really hungry.
    William cut himself one and a half slices of bread, and spread the half slice with marmite and the full slice with butter and jam, topping both bits with a layer of strong cheddar cheese. This done, he began the rather precarious journey across the hall. Mrs. Arncott had suggested that if he ate his tea in the kitchen it would mean fewer crumbs for her to clear off the sitting-room carpet in the mornings, and less chance of him tripping over the hall rug and breaking something - whether a cup or a leg she didn’t specify. William, who knew she’d do anything to make less work for herself, had pointed out that the T.V. was in the sitting-room, and he could hardly be expected to eat a meal with nothing to look at but his plate.
    He turned on The Bill , wincing at the statutory Christmas decorations adorning the Police Station despite the suspiciously full-leaved trees in the exterior scenes. Scratch placed a paw against his leg, and when that was ignored, stressed his point with a strategic amount of claw until he was given a bit of cheese and marmite. The pair of them settled down to a peaceful evening.
    Something bleeped somewhere. William ignored it. He was beginning to get hold of the plot of The Bill . This greasy-haired yob had stolen something from the black one, and the third one, who was really a goodie despite his earring and leather jacket…
    The bleep became louder, more and more insistent. William knew what it was - that annoying machine Stephen and Ratso had bought him “because you don’t always seem to hear the phone, Dad.” It had buttons and aerials and little red lights, and if you ignored it, it went on and on bleeping louder and louder until you pressed and pulled the right combination of things to make it stop.
    But William had discovered an easier solution, and slowly, with a lingering eye on The Bill , he went out and picked up the receiver on the proper telephone in the hall.
    â€œWell?”
    This uncompromising greeting usually put off any caller persistent enough to get him to answer the phone in the first place. But this one knew William.
    â€œHello Dad.”
    â€œHuh.”
    â€œHow are you?”
    â€œHaving my tea.”
    Stephen paused in vain for an echo to his polite enquiry, then answered it anyway. “Bit of a panic here.”
    There was always a bit of a panic where Stephen and Ratso were concerned. William waited to hear whether little Tobias had caught a snuffle, or whether their local shops had run out of Christmas pudding, and strained to pick up on The Bill round the corner of the sitting-room door.
    â€œSeems our damp proof course has broken down.”
    â€œWhat a shame.”
    As he’d thought, they’d arrested the wrong youth, leaving the greasy-haired one free to walk over to that block of flats…
    â€œYes, it is rather,” said Stephen acidly, knowing full well his father’s mind was elsewhere. “The house is quite untenable - you know how dank Oxford gets in winter.”
    â€œCan’t you buy a new one?”
    â€œWe can hardly move again so soon. And we’d never find such a…”
    â€œI mean a new… What did you say had broken down?”
    â€œThe damp proof course, Dad! Apparently they don’t last for ever in these old Victorian houses. Lesley’s already found mould at the bottom of one of the curtains, and of course Tobias has a tendency to weak lungs…”
    William’s contact with his grandson so far had given him quite the opposite impression, but he didn’t argue. With a bit of luck Stephen was leading up to the news that they couldn’t have him to stay after all! He prepared a speech of polite regret and reassurance that he would be perfectly all right on his own.
    â€œSo Lesley and I really don’t feel we can have you to stay for Christmas.”
    â€œOh, what a pity!