I only wanted one thing for Christmas - a happy Christmas. But with my parents arguing, Grandad feeling sad, and houseproud Auntie Celia pouncing on every speck of dust, I didn't see how my wish could come true.
“Christmas again? It comes round quicker each year!” Dad leaned over the kitchen table to sniff the warm scents of cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger rising from Mum’s biggest mixing bowl. She playfully pushed him out of her way. “I’m late this year. I usually make the Christmas puddings in September, but what with looking after Father on top of everything else, I clean forgot about them.” She held out the wooden spoon to me. “Come on, Jenny. Your turn. Make a wish.” I shut my eyes tight and stirred the mixture three times. I wish … I wish we could have a real Christmas like the ones we used to have.