One Step Closer to You Read Free

beautiful glass candlesticks, gold candles, ivy, berry and ribbon decorations and our special red star-patterned tablecloth with matching napkins. I made some place names using my gold marker pen. Mum also bought some crackers, but we’re saving those for tomorrow.
    As Mum dishes out piping-hot fish pie, she talks about going to church tomorrow. ‘It’s hard timing it with the turkey,’ she says, her brow furrowed. ‘Maybe we should eat in the evening, but the children are exhausted by then.’ Mum is
always
worrying about something. Granddad Arthur says she’ll be flapping and worrying in her grave.
    I notice her watching as Granddad pours the last of the wine into his glass. ‘Why do we eat turkey every year? Makesyou windy.’ He winks at me and I giggle as he helps himself to another drink from a new bottle and offers some to Auntie Lyn. ‘Same goes for stinky sprouts!’
    Auntie Lyn places a hand over her glass, pursing her lips.
    Granddad frowns. ‘Oh come on, Lynny, it’s Christmas! Get legless!’
    ‘Dad!’ Mum says, but I find it very funny.
    ‘I’m driving,’ she replies, refusing to look at him.
    There’s a strange silence. Mum’s face reddens.
    ‘Anyway, this fish pie is delicious.’ Dad raises his glass. ‘Three cheers for the chef.’
    ‘Be careful of the bones,’ Mum warns in her worried little voice.
    ‘Behave,’ I hear Granny Sue muttering to Granddad.
    I feel sorry for Granddad. He’s always being told off.
    *
    ‘I am very
very
proud of our family,’ Granddad repeats over pudding, his eyes watering. ‘We’ve had some tough times but Hugo is an inspiration. That little boy …’ Granddad takes a deep breath, ‘he’ll have one heck of a life ahead of him and it won’t be easy.’ He wags a finger. ‘But he’s a strong little lad and … well … I can see great things …’ He stumbles on his words, takes another gulp of wine. ‘He’s got balls.’ Granddad hiccups. ‘You know, it’s a big bad world out there, but he’s a brave boy. And then there’s beautiful you, Polly. You’ll have the boys eating out of your hand, I bet, bees round a honey pot.’
    Shy, I play with my spoon, not sure exactly what he means.
    ‘Polly, you have such a happy future ahead of you … oh boy, if I could have my life again …’
    ‘What would you do differently, Arthur?’ asks my dad.
    ‘Oh … everything, right, Sue? Wifey here thinks I’m a failure.’ He nudges Auntie Lyn, who smiles at him awkwardly.
    ‘I do not,’ Granny Sue tuts. ‘When have I said that?’
    ‘You don’t have to.’ He wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.
    Dad has told me Granddad Arthur hasn’t worked much in his life. He lost jobs as quickly as he found them.
    ‘Why?’ I’d asked.
    ‘It’s complicated,’ Dad replied.
    ‘I
am
a failure,’ Granddad says, pushing his food to one side, ‘and it’s all my fault.’
    I sit up. ‘What’s your fault?’
    ‘Can we change the subject?’ suggests Granny Sue. ‘It’s Christmas.’
    Why does everyone keep on saying, ‘It’s Christmas’?
    ‘We’ve always been very good at changing the subject, Lynny,’ Granddad says. She squiggles in her chair. He leans closer. ‘They never want to talk about
the truth
.’
    ‘You’re drunk,’ she says, edging away again. ‘Very drunk, Arthur.’
    He edges towards her once more. ‘Well, as Churchillsaid, “You’re ugly, you’re
very
ugly. But I shall be sober in the morning!”’ He leans back in his chair and roars with laughter, but no one else does. I’m not sure what’s so funny. Mum and Dad look angry and Granny Sue furious, as if she might explode.
    ‘Dad,
please
,’ Mum says, gesturing to me. ‘You promised.’
    ‘All right, all right, loosen up everyone.’ He finishes off his wine and reaches for another bottle.
    ‘Arthur, you’ve had enough.’ Dad swipes the bottle from him.
    ‘Says who?’ he snaps, before knocking over the pot of salt. He takes a large pinch in his