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‘Come on, let’s pull our crackers,’ Mum insists. ‘We can’t start our food, until we’ve got our hats on.’
Everyone naturally turns to the person opposite to them to pull their Christmas cracker. Rocco hovers with his for a moment.
‘Trying to pull?’ I ask him.
‘Yes, I’m sure you can help me out, though,’ he replies.
I win, which I’m delighted about. I remove the small piece of paper before getting everyone’s attention, to hear the joke.
‘Why don’t they play poker at the zoo?’ I ask. ‘Because of the cheaters.’
I have to confess, that’s not the joke on the paper at all, the joke I got says ‘What do they sing at a snowman’s birthday? Freeze a jolly good fellow…’ but I really wanted to try and get a rise out of Rocco. I can’t believe he still hasn’t said anything. I know I haven’t either but I’m the wronged party here.
‘Thanks for having me,’ Kenny says as he tucks into his dinner. ‘I wasn’t able to go back to North Yorkshire to visit my family, I’ve got too much work on.’
‘I would’ve thought this crowd was a bit old for you,’ I say, unable to resist a swipe, not that anyone else gets it.
Kenny laughs.
‘No, just my scene, actually,’ he replies.
Everyone makes small talk as we eat. In an attempt to not ruin my dinner for myself, I try to stick to talking to the women at the table. That suits the boys, who drift into talking about work and then inevitably football. My dad, annoyingly, has always defaulted to talking about football with anyone he’s around long enough, so long as they have a penis, of course. Eventually, the two groups merge again.
‘Times are changing,’ Dad points out. ‘You just don’t see family values like you used to. Look at my girls, neither of them married, and they’re in their thirties.’
Jess shows all the tells of the She Hulk. If there’s one thing Jess hates (well, don’t we all), it’s people flagging the marital/child-rearing status of women, and my sister is the kind of person who always challenges things like this when they’re brought up in front of her. I’m glad that Mum raised us to be strong, fiery women, it’s just that Jess tends to try and combat these situations by dumping petrol on them.
‘All right, Mr Family Values, you’re one to talk,’ she points out. ‘No one’s marital status, or eggs, for that matter, are anything to do with old farts like you.’
Gail winces when Jess brings up her eggs at the dinner table.
I totally see where Jess is coming from, though, I hate it when people ask me questions like this too – and it was worse when I was with Declan. When are you getting married? When do you think you’ll have kids? It’s no one’s business.
‘All right, Jess, the past is in the past,’ Dad tells her.
‘You’re both free to do what you want, when you want,’ Mum reassures us. ‘No one cares. Not even your dad.’
‘It would be nice to see you both married, to get some grandkids,’ Dad continues, trying to make things better, but doing nothing apart from fan the flame.
‘With messed-up kids of divorce like us lot, it’s no wonder we’re all doing such a terrible job, not wanting families or kids,’ Jess replies.
‘I’m going to the loo,’ Declan says. He’s always avoided confrontation.
‘I don’t think that’s fair,’ Gail chimes in – oh, Gail, hun, what are you doing? ‘Your dad has worked hard to change perceptions of him, to be a decent family man, and my boys certainly aren’t messed up.’
I think it’s the slight tone at the end of Gail’s sentence, potentially suggesting that perhaps Jess and I do have some issues, that sends Jess nuclear.
‘Right, okay, well, where to begin,’ she says as she pulls herself to her feet. ‘You say Dad is reformed but he’s definitely having some kind of affair with Mum – or trying to, at least – and as for your perfect little boy, why don’t you ask him who he’s being sleeping with?’
Jess, in a full-on strop, marches out of the room.
‘I should probably, er…’ Kenny’s sentence trails off as he jumps to his feet to follow her. He gets points for being attentive, at least, but Kenny’s quality as a boyfriend is the least of my worries now. Thank you, Jess, for dropping that grenade and then running for cover.
‘Sorry, what’s going on?’ Gail asks me – why me? Then she turns to my dad. ‘Rowan, what does she mean? And who have you been sleeping with?’
Gail’s gaze settles on Rocco, who is looking at me, so Gail naturally follows his line of sight until she’s looking at me once again.
‘You?’ she says.
