to switch over to something lighter and brighter, which failed to have the desired effect, he turned his attention to me and began a rambling series of anecdotes about his life as a dance musician. The amount of cigarette smoking going on in the film revived memories of Arthur Lane’s addiction, his trick of pinching out fag ends between his foot-operated cymbals and the famous occasion when he set fire to his bass drum while the band was playing ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes’. ‘And did I ever tell you about Sammy Black’s wig? A lovely trombonist Sammy was, but he wore a terrible wig . . .’ If Maxine had not been otherwise occupied, she might have been an interested auditor, but I had heard all the stories before, several times. I was desperate for some peace and quiet, longing to prise the hearing aids, which I had been wearing all day, out of my hot, sweaty earholes, and to enjoy a spell of silence. So after about a quarter of an hour I pretended that I was going to go to bed, which persuaded Dad that he should go too, and having seen him to his room I bade him goodnight and slunk back downstairs to my study.
Went the day well? It could have been worse, I suppose, but it didn’t pass without some squalls and squabbles, conflicts and complaints. Dad woke early, came downstairs to make himself a cup of tea, and set off the burglar alarm. I had gone to bed and to sleep before the others came back from Midnight Mass, and Fred set the alarm on the assumption that I had reminded Dad about it, whereas I thought we had agreed not to set the alarm with a houseful of guests and to rely on locking and bolting the external doors - a misunderstanding no doubt caused by my hearing problem. I didn’t hear the alarm go off for the same reason, and was woken from an early-morning doze by Fred’s elbow in my ribs and a grunted command to do something. I found Dad at the bottom of the stairs, in his dressing gown and slippers, with a hand cupped to his ear and a puzzled expression on his face. ‘Hallo, son,’ he said. ‘Can you hear a funny noise?’
I de-activated the alarm, and phoned the security company to tell them it was a false one. ‘Have a nice day,’ said the man who took my call, when he had taken down the details. ‘Well, it hasn’t been an auspicious start,’ I said. He laughed uncertainly. I don’t think he was sure what ‘auspicious’ meant. I expect he was feeling sorry for himself at being on duty on Christmas Day, but I imagined him sitting all alone in a quiet, warm office, with a book and a portable radio to hand, and only the occasional telephone call to disturb his peace, and I envied him.
I made Dad some tea in the kitchen and gave him a digestive biscuit with it. ‘Ain’t you having breakfast, then?’ he said, inspecting the biscuit with a disappointed expression. ‘It’s too early,’ I said. He looked at the clock on the wall. ‘Blimey! A quarter to six! Is that all it is?’ He hadn’t got his teeth in so he dipped the biscuit in the tea before mumbling it between his gums. ‘I’m going back to bed,’ I said. ‘What will you do?’ ‘I suppose I could take half a pill,’ he said. ‘Get another couple of hours’ kip.’ I encouraged him in this plan, and escorted him upstairs. I crept into our bedroom and into bed. Fred muttered something which I didn’t hear but assumed was an accusing question about the alarm and Dad.‘Don’t let’s talk about it now,’ I said, snuggling up to her, not from any tender or amorous impulse but simply for animal warmth. I find it’s the best way to get off to sleep again when I wake early. It worked, but it didn’t seem very long before she got up herself and went downstairs to prepare the turkey and put it in the oven. It’s an enormous bird, and she believes in slow cooking.
As the morning passed the smell of the roasting turkey filled the kitchen and seeped out into the dining room and front hall and could be faintly sniffed even in my study. ‘Mmm! What a delicious smell,’ the newly arriving members of the family party exclaimed as they took