26
Cissie braced herself before entering the front door at Lovain. The entire family was going to be there except George. Christmas Day and she didn’t feel much like celebrating. George had already been gone three weeks; they had never been apart that long. Having to make conversation with his sisters all day, not to mention 30-odd nieces and nephews running about, made her consider turning around and heading back home.
A shout resounded from inside the house. ‘Get out, the lot of you!’
Cissie had to concede a wry smile as she pictured old Frank waving a beefy hand at his youngest descendants from his armchair.
Then it was George’s mother’s turn, her words muffled yet tone clearly terse. ‘Frank! It’s Christmas. Please don’t speak to the children like that.’
Behind Cissie, a car pulled
