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Without making eye contact with any of us, she sweeps back to the kitchen. I roll my eyes.Okay, so we’re playing that game, are we? Bring. It. On.
“Hey Nick, did I ever tell you about my time at the Tibetan monastery?”
“No Steve, but I’d love to hear it.”
“You spent time at a monastery?” Michael enthuses, coming around to my side of the table.
“Yes, back in ’93. Just after I returned from Singapore.”
“Tell me when, Carly,” Michael says. He’s about to pour the wine when I place my hand over the glass.
“Er, no thanks. I think I’ll stick with water tonight.”
“It’s Christmas. Surely you can have at least one glass?”
I release my hand and let him pour. “Okay, just one, but that’s it.”
“There’s a girl.”
Placing the bottle on the table, he takes a seat next to Nick and the two of them listen to dad’s hair-raising stories of Tibet. Ten minutes later Mum returns with the beef and we all settle down to eat. Every now and then I glance up at her to check if she’s softened at all. Nope. She still looks like somebody’s died.Oh give me a break!
I raise my eyes heavenward. This is getting unbearable.
“So what do you do, Mike?” Nick asks, breaking the ice.
“I work in construction,” Michael replies.
“Construction? That sounds interesting. What sort of construction?”
“Oh, new builds, renovations, that sort of thing.” Happy to be holding court, Michael tells a story I’ve heard dozens of times before, the one about how he left school at sixteen and went straight into an apprenticeship before starting up his own company, Hilltop Construction at the tender age of twenty. The rest, as they say, is history.
“My big break came when I got a contract with Croydon Council,” he boasts. “That’s where the money is, council contracts. If you have friends in the Town Hall, then you’re sorted. Are you familiar with the Mansfield Estate, the one near East Croydon train station?”
Nick nods vaguely. “Yes, I think I passed it on the way down.”
“Well, that estate was one of our first big jobs. Once we got it, everything else just fell into place. Like I said, once you’ve got a foot in the Town Hall, you’re head and shoulders above the competition. It guarantees a steady stream of work and over the years, they’ve become our biggest client. I’ve also just been very lucky. If I was starting over today, it might not be so easy.”
“Oh, don’t be so modest,” Nick laughs. “I’m sure you worked very hard to make your ‘luck’ happen. I congratulate you on your success, it must feel good to have finally achieved your dreams.”
“It certainly does.” Michaels pauses and takes a sip of his wine. He is clearly enjoying Nick’s compliments.
“Whatever Mike wants, Mike gets,” Dad says with a touch of steeliness to his voice. “Take this house for instance. I remember we used to pass it every day on the way to school, and Mike used to say, “one day I’ll have that house.” All the other kids laughed and thought it was a pipe dream, but now look, here we are fifty years later, sitting in it. I mean, isn’t that something?”
“It most definitely is,” Nick agrees.
“Positive affirmations go a long way to getting what you want.” Dad hesitates, weighing up his next words. My mother shoots him a withering look. We all know where this is heading, but Dad just can’t help himself. “It even works when you apply it to your love life. It can get you any woman you want, even if that woman is already taken.”
“Please, Steve,” Michael begs. “We’re just trying to have a nice evening. Give it a rest, huh?”
“But it’s true,” my father says innocently. “You’ve got everything you want: the house, the wife, the career. I take my hat off to you. I don’t know a better example of a self-made man.”
Michael throws down his napkin in exasperation. “All right Steve, if you want to punish someone, then fine, punish me. But please bear in mind that there are other people present who don’t deserve to have their Christmas ruined by two squabbling old men. Now look, you’ve just survived a stroke, and your lovely daughter here is getting married. You should be on top of the world. In fact, I can’t think of any reason for any of us to be unhappy right now. Getting you out of hospital is the best Christmas present we could ask for. Sure, we’ve all had some shit to deal, but for once, can everybody please just agree to get along?” He glances around the table. “Agreed?”
The room goes quiet for a beat. Mum stabs a carrot onto her fork and chews it like she’s chewing leather.
“Agreed?” Michael repeats more forcefully.
“Agreed,” we all bleat.
