“Now, Lesley,” said Mrs. Miles, “I want you to eat a proper breakfast, you don’t know how long it will be before you get your Christmas dinner, you know what your Auntie Mavis is like.”
They were all to go this year for Christmas dinner to Mrs. Miles’s sister and her family who lived at Seaforth; Mrs. Miles’s large family took it in turns, more or less, to preside at the feast.
“No, I don’t, we haven’t had Christmas there before,” said Lisa.
“Of course we have, don’t you remember? Four or five years ago, of course you remember. We didn’t eat until well past three. So you want a proper breakfast. Do you want boiled or fried or scrambled?”
“Ugh,” said Lisa. “Magda says you shouldn’t eat eggs for breakfast, it—”
“I don’t care what Magda says,” said Mrs. Miles. “Magda doesn’t know everything. If you won’t eat your eggs for breakfast you won’t ever get fatter. You’ll waste away. You’re still growing. Just have some scrambled eggs now, I’ll put some bacon in with them the way you like.”
“Oh, okay,” Lisa drawled, “anything for a quiet life.”
“That’s better,” said her mother.
Mr. Miles came in.
“Three eggs,” he said, “fried, runny yolks, and four rashers of bacon. Is the tea made yet? I’ll have some toast too while I’m waiting. I could eat a horse. I’ve seen horses that are fit for nothing else too come to think of it.”
“Can we open our presents now?” asked Lisa.
“What presents?” asked her father.
“Dad,” said Lisa, “do you know what day this is?”
“Oh,” said Mr. Miles, “I suppose you mean Christmas presents. Well, I don’t know about that. That’s your mother’s department.”
“We’ll open our presents after breakfast,” said Mrs. Miles. “First things first.”
The meal was at last concluded and they went solemnly into the sitting room where the presents were ranged at the foot of the Christmas tree. Lisa presented her gifts to her mother and father, the small and the larger, and her mother gave her father one large package and then gave her one small and two larger packages. An episode of unwrapping was followed by exclamations of surprise and gratitude, at the end of which time it was suddenly apparent that Mr. Miles had made no contribution to the exchange.
“Now then,” he said, “I suppose you’ll both be wanting something from me. I suppose that’s fair enough. It’s Christmas after all. Let me see what I can find.”
He fished in his pocket and found some coins. “That won’t do,” he said. He fished in another pocket. “That’s more like it,” he said. “Here now, Lesley, you take that,” and he handed her a ten-pound note. “And this is for you, Cora,” he said. “Happy Christmas both.”
Mrs. Miles looked down, bemused. He had given her a twenty-pound note. The sight of it alone was a novelty.
“Gee. Thank you, Ed,” she said. “That’s lovely.”
Lisa had been squealing with delight the while.
“Gosh, Dad,” she said. “Thanks!”
“All right then,” said the paterfamilias, “let’s get going. Seaforth, eh? We might have a swim first. What do you reckon? We’ll catch the Christmas tide!”