Clean Break Read online

  ‘Come on, babe, come and cuddle up,’ said Dad, hitching Vita and Maxie along to make room for her.

  He ruffled Mum’s hair like she was a little kid too. Mum didn’t moan, even though she’d just made it perfect. She waited until Dad was helping Maxie with his stocking and then she quickly patted her hair back into shape, smoothing down her fringe and tweaking the ends. She wasn’t being vain. She was just trying extra hard to look nice for Dad.

  We had this tradition of opening presents in turn, starting with the youngest, but this wasn’t such a good idea with Maxie. He was so slow, delicately picking out the first tiny parcel from his stocking, prodding it warily and then cautiously shaking it, as if he thought it might be a miniature bomb. When he decided it was safe to open he spent ages nudging the edge of the sellotape with his thumbnail.

  ‘Hurry up, Maxie,’ Vita said impatiently. ‘Just pull the paper.’

  ‘I don’t want to rip it, it looks so pretty. I want to wrap all my presents up again after I’ve seen what they are,’ said Maxie.

  ‘Here, son, let me help,’ said Dad, and within a minute or two he’d shelled all Maxie’s stocking presents out of their shiny paper.

  Maxie cupped his hands to hold them all at once: his magic pencil that could draw red and green and blue and yellow all in one go; a silver spiral notebook; a weeny yellow plastic duck no bigger than his thumb; a tiny toy tractor; a mini box of Smarties; a little watch on a plastic strap; a green glass marble; and a pair of his very own nail clippers (Maxie always wants to borrow Dad’s).

  ‘How does Santa know exactly what I like?’ said Maxie.

  ‘How indeed?’ said Dad solemnly.

  ‘Will you help me wrap them all up now, Dad?’

  ‘Yeah, of course I will.’

  ‘I’m unwrapping mine!’ said Vita, spilling her goodies all over the duvet, ripping each one open with her scrabbly little fingers. She found a tiny pink lady ornament in a ballet frock; sparkly butterfly hairslides; a set of kitten and puppy stickers; a miniature red box of raisins; a weeny purple brush and comb set; a little book about a rabbit with print so tiny you could hardly read it; a bead necklace spelling I LOVE VITA; and her very own real lipstick.

  ‘I hope Santa’s given you a very pale pink lipstick,’ said Mum. ‘Go on then, Em, open your stocking.’

  I was getting too big to believe in Santa but he still wanted to please me. I found a little orange journal with its own key; a tiny red heart soap; a purple gel pen; cherry bobbles for my hair; a tiny tin of violet sweets; a Miffy eraser; a Jenna Williams bookmark; and a small pot of silver glitter nail varnish.

  ‘I love that colour,’ said Mum. ‘Santa’s got good taste, Em. I wish he’d leave me a stocking.’

  ‘You’ve got our presents, Mum,’ I said.

  They weren’t really special enough. We always made our presents for Mum and Dad, and so they looked like rubbish. Maxie did a drawing of Mum and Dad and Vita and me, but we weren’t exactly recognizable. We looked like five potatoes on toothpicks.

  Vita did a family portrait too. She drew herself very big, her head touching one end of the paper and her feet the other. She embellished herself with very long thick hair and silver shoes with enormously high heels. She drew Dad one side of her, Mum the other, using up so much space she had to squash Maxie and me high up in either corner, just our heads and shoulders, looking down like gargoyles.

  I felt I was too old for drawing silly pictures. I wanted to make them proper presents. Gran had recently taught me to knit, so at the beginning of December I’d started to knit a woollen patchwork quilt for Mum and Dad’s bed. I knitted and knitted and knitted – in the playground, watching television, on the loo – but by Christmas Eve I had only managed eleven squares, not even enough for a newborn baby’s quilt.

  I sewed the prettiest pink square into a weird pouch done up with a pearly button. It was too holey for a purse but I thought Mum could maybe keep her comb inside. I sewed the other ten squares into one long scarf for Dad. It wasn’t exactly the right shape and it rolled over at the edges but I hoped he might still like it.

  ‘I absolutely love it, Em,’ he said, wrapping it round his neck. ‘I’ve wanted a long stripy scarf ever since I watched Dr Who when I was a little kid. Thank you, darling.’ He stroked the uneven rows. ‘It’s so cosy! I’ll be as warm as toast all winter.’

  I felt my cheeks glowing. I knew he probably hated it and didn’t want to be seen dead wearing it, but he made me believe he truly loved it at the same time.

  Mum gave him a V-necked soft black sweater and he put it on at once, but he kept my scarf round his neck.

  ‘What about my present?’ Mum asked, as eagerly as Vita.

  ‘What present?’ said Dad, teasing her. Then he reached underneath the bed and handed her an oblong package. She felt the parcel and then tore off the wrapping. A pair of silver shoes tumbled out, strappy sandals with the highest heels ever.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Mum shrieked. ‘They’re so beautiful. Oh darling, how wicked, how glamorous, how incredible!’ She started kissing Dad rapturously.

  ‘Hey, hey, they’re just shoes,’ he said. ‘Come on then, kids, open your big presents.’

  He helped Maxie unwrap an enormous set of expensive Caran d’Ache colouring pens and a big white pad of special artist’s paper.

  ‘But he’s just a little kid, Frankie. He’ll press too hard and ruin the tips,’ Mum said.

  ‘No I won’t, Mum!’ said Maxie.

  ‘He will,’ I mouthed at Mum. Maxie had already totally ruined the red and the sky-blue in my set of felt pens. I couldn’t help feeling envious of Maxie’s beautiful set, so superior to my own.

  ‘My turn, my turn, my turn!’ Vita shouted, tearing at her huge parcel. One weird long brown twisty thing poked through the paper as she scrabbled at it, then another.

  ‘What is it?’ Vita shrieked.

  Then she discovered a big pink nose.

  ‘Is it a clown?’ Maxie asked fearfully.

  Dad had taken us to the circus in the summer and Maxie had spent most of the evening under his seat, terrified of the clowns.

  ‘Try pressing that nose,’ said Dad.

  Vita poked at it, and it played a pretty tinkly tune.

  ‘That’s “The Sugar Plum Fairy” from some ballet. We did it in music,’ I said.

  Vita tore the last of the paper away to reveal the huge sweet head of a furry reindeer, with two twisty plush antlers sticking out at angles. She had big brown glass eyes, fantastic long eyelashes, and a smiley red-lined mouth with a soft pink tongue. She was wearing a pink ballet dress with a satin bodice and net skirt.

  ‘I love her, I love her!’ Vita declared, hugging her passionately to her chest.

  The reindeer had long floppy furry legs with pink satin ballet slippers, but she couldn’t stand on them. I lifted the net skirt and saw a big hole.

  ‘Don’t look up her bottom!’ Vita snapped.

  ‘Um, Em’s being rude,’ said Maxie.

  ‘No, I’m not! I’ve just realized, she’s a glove puppet!’

  ‘You got it, Emerald,’ said Dad. ‘Here, Vita, let’s get to know her. We’ll see if she’ll introduce herself.’

  He pressed her pink nose again to stop the ballet music and stuck his hand up inside her.

  ‘Hello, Princess Vita,’ he made the reindeer say, in a funny fruity female voice. ‘I’m Dancer. I was one of Santa’s very own reindeers. Maybe you’ve heard of my fellow sleigh artistes, Dasher and Prancer and Vixen? Then there’s the so-called superstar, Rudolph, the one with the constant cold. Such a show-off, especially since he got his own song. Of course I was always the leading runner, until I realized that all that sleigh-pulling wasn’t such a good idea. I have very sensitive hooves. Santa was devastated when I gave in my notice but we artistes have to consider our talent. I am now Princess Vita’s dancing companion and trusty steed.’

  Dad made Dancer bow low and then twirl on her floppety legs. Vita clapped her hands, brigh