I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day - Milly Johnson Page 0,81
host of aromas competing with each other for dominance in the air; and most importantly there was a cornucopia of conviviality. Charlie’s heart felt as Christmassy as if it were stuffed with Radio Brian’s carols. What a precious memory in the making this was. The others wouldn’t feel the intensity of it as he did, but he hoped they’d keep this picture in the treasure boxes of their minds, bring it out to look at occasionally, remember it all – and him – with a smile.
‘We would like you to say grace, Charles, before we plough in,’ said Luke.
Charlie got up from his chair, a little stiffly but he wanted to stand. He thought for a few moments before he began to speak. Heads dipped, eyes closed.
‘Dear God in heaven, thank you for the food we are about to receive. Look after the loved ones whom we cannot be with today, keep them safe and may we be reunited with them soon. And may the people around this table here be joined together by the spirit of Christmas in peace and love and take everlasting happy memories of this time with them, wherever our journeys take us. Amen.’
They opened up their eyes, no one saying a word. Charlie’s prayer had touched them all deeply, they knew he had chosen every word with care.
Jack picked up a cracker, held it out towards Mary. It was made out of newspaper and the inside of a toilet roll, the ends twisted and tied with red string that Luke had found under the bar.
‘You have to say “bang” when you pull,’ Luke commanded.
‘Really?’ said Bridge, her nose wrinkled.
‘Yes, really,’ said Luke, adding proudly, ‘I had to decimate six toilet rolls in the store upstairs to make them. I came over all Blue Peter and channelled the god that is John Noakes.’
Bridge shook her head, bit her lip to stop herself grinning. They’d had a framed photo of John Noakes and his dog Shep in their bathroom. The mad-bonkers presenter had left Blue Peter before they’d even been born, but he was one of Luke’s idols nevertheless. This new Luke reminded her a little of John Noakes: fearless, magnetic, hair that defied a comb.
‘Okay, I’m ready,’ said Jack.
‘Yep, me too.’
Everyone shouted ‘BANG!’ Jack won the lion’s share. He offered it to Mary but she pushed it back at him saying he’d won it fairly and squarely. Jack pulled out the joke, scribbled on a rectangle of paper. He read.
‘What did one snowflake say to the other?’
He was met by a sea of faces eager for the punchline.
‘He didn’t say anything in case it offended him.’
A tumbleweed silence and then groans of laughter rapidly ensued.
‘Or her,’ put in Bridge, with mock indignation.
‘Oh shut up,’ said Luke, picking up a sprout and pretending to lob it at her.
‘What’s the present inside, Jack?’ asked Charlie.
Jack poked around to try and extract it because whatever the present was, it had lodged inside the toilet-roll inner.
‘Oh, it’s one of those things that you put your fingers and thumbs in and open and close. We used to make them at school,’ said Bridge, when Jack had succeeded. ‘What were they called?’
‘Not sure I ever knew they had a name,’ said Mary. ‘Fortune tellers, maybe?’
‘What do I do?’ said Jack.
‘Oh come on,’ said Bridge with incredulity. How could anyone not know that?
‘I’ll show you.’ Mary reached over, pushed her two index fingers and thumbs into the paper corners. ‘Pick a number between one and four.’
‘Four.’
She moved her fingers in and out. ‘One, two, three four.’ She read from the choices that were revealed when she stopped on ‘four’. ‘Pick from a car, a plane, a helicopter or a bus.’
‘A helicopter.’
Mary unfolded the paper, lifted the flap. ‘Oh.’
‘What does it say? Come on, Mary,’ urged Charlie.
It couldn’t have been any worse.
‘ “I love you”,’ said Mary.
Bridge noticed Mary’s cheeks had started to flush. She grabbed the fortune teller from her hands in an effort to divert attention from Mary and onto herself.
‘Luke, pick a number.’
‘Four. Then I pick a helicopter.’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Okay, three.’
‘One, two, three. Bike, ship, skateboard, submarine.’
‘Submarine. And I swear to you, I have no idea what I wrote behind it.’
Bridge unfolded, swallowed hard.
‘What does it say? Come on, Bridge,’ urged Robin this time.
‘You never left my heart,’ she said, reading automaton style, distancing herself from the words with a deliberate lack of emotion. ‘Word of advice, Luke, don’t take up fortune telling if your company folds.’