‘For god’s sake, Frank. We said one present each.’ Nancy’s words sounded like they got stuck behind her teeth. Her gifts were like her love for us and always came with a sense of economy. We sat impatiently in our familiar seats in the lounge. I sat closest to the Christmas tree and the fireplace, and instantly went from being too cold to too hot, so I took off my jumper. I was wearing a red woollen V-neck dress underneath, covered in white lace snowflakes. It was a gift from Nana, and I wanted to wear it every day.
‘I know we said one present each, but I couldn’t resist. I found this in a little shop in Vienna and thought of you,’ Dad said, giving Lily a small pink parcel.
‘Good to know they weren’t all last-minute duty-free purchases from the airport,’ mumbled my mother beneath her breath. She tutted for good measure.
Lily ripped off the paper and beamed when she found a tiara inside. It was covered in fake jewels.
‘Because I’m a princess!’ she said.
‘Yes, you are,’ said Nana, walking into the lounge wearing a pink and purple apron, and speaking in an ironic tone I was too young to appreciate at the time. She gave Lily a withering look before putting a tray of warm mince pies on the table. Nana – always preferring to do things her own way – made savoury mince pies at Christmas. They contained minced beef, onions, and a secret splash of Tabasco, and were served with tiny jugs of gravy.
Lily pouted. ‘Why can’t we have normal mince pies?’
‘Because normal is boring,’ Nana replied. Then she hugged her son, my father, and sat down next to Nancy. I think she always wished that our parents would get back together just as much as we did, forever orchestrating family reunions that she hoped might actually reunite us.
The camera turns to Rose, and zooms in on her face. She was holding a box wrapped in tissue paper that was turquoise – her favourite colour. Unlike Lily, she opened her gift slowly, without tearing the paper at all, while we waited to see what was inside.
‘Wow! Thank you, Dad,’ she said, holding up a telescope.
‘You’re very welcome, and just in case the stars don’t always shine for you . . .’
Rose opened a second gift, and I remember what it was before seeing it on the TV screen: a box of glow-in-the-dark stars.
‘Thank you!’ she said again, giving him a huge hug. It made me realize that Lily never thanked him once.
‘I want stars!’ Lily whined, folding her arms.
Dad ignored her. ‘And this gift is for Daisy, my little pipsqueak,’ he said, passing me a box.
Inside, there were five new books. They were all beautiful hardbacks, and I couldn’t wait to start reading them. ‘It’s always important to have adventures, even if only in your imagination. Sometimes those are the best adventures of all,’ he said, sounding more like Nana than himself. Then he gave me a second gift, and I didn’t understand what it was when I first saw it.
‘It’s a View-Master,’ explained my father, leaving me none the wiser as I stared at what looked like a red plastic pair of binoculars. ‘I know it must make you sad, that your sisters get to go away to school, and I get to travel with my orchestra, and you have to stay behind . . . but now you can look inside this and pretend to be anywhere.’
Dad put a strange-looking reel inside the contraption, then held it up to my face. I remember being scared at first, but then I saw a picture of a forest, so real I thought I might be able to touch it. He showed me how to click the side of the gadget. The reel moved, and I saw a picture of a waterfall. It was like magic. I laughed, and my dad grinned, but his smile faded a little when he noticed the pink scar down the middle of my chest. I watched his reaction as he remembered that I was broken, and felt guilty that it made him so sad.
‘I’ve missed you all so much,’ he said. His words were like a hug, and I wanted to believe them. The camera catches him looking at my mother, and her looking away. I was too young to understand any of what was going on between them back then. When you hold on too tight to something, it can start to hurt.
‘Conor, I was hoping you would be here,’ Dad said, holding out a small gift. ‘Let me take the camcorder while you open it. I hope you like it.’ The camera turns to reveal a ridiculously happy-looking Conor, as though he had never been given a Christmas present before, and it made me wonder if maybe he hadn’t. Nana said there were people who didn’t believe in Christmas, or celebrate it, and just the idea of that made me feel sad.
‘Different people believe in different things,’ she said, when I didn’t understand.