Christmas Day was not a success. No brawls or even arguments, just a simmering tension that threatened every now and then to boil over until someone – usually Nancy with one of her looks – clamped a lid on it.
Carlene darted around all day like a dragonfly, two red blobs burning on her cheeks as she prepared food, served and cleaned up. She refused Reuben’s attempts to help her with a curt, ‘I’m fine, thanks.’
They all crowded around the small table on the patio and ate stuffed turkey breast with cranberry jus, glazed ham, goat’s cheese quiche and salads containing a dozen varieties of lettuce. For dessert, there was the traditional Christmas pudding, citrus tart with double cream and brandy snap baskets with cognac-drenched strawberries and chocolate jus. The children sat in front of th
