10PM—I don’t know if what happened today really happened. I’m a bit confused. I’m going to write it all down and see if it makes more sense.
So today was Christmas Day which is always one of the best days of the whole year in our house ’cos we sort of do the same stuff every single year like a little pattern. We pull Christmas crackers and we open a tin of Quality Street chocolates and me and Cava-Sue argue over the green triangles and we all get a bit tipsy on Bucks Fizz and we eat a massive meal of turkey and vegetables that makes you feel proper farty.
Nan comes round and she always gets new Christmas fluffy slippers and she always falls asleep after dinner with her gob open and we always make jokes about her looking like the Dartford Tunnel. About twenty minutes after Christmas dinner finishes Mum starts clattering about in the kitchen then produces an extra large lattice-top pork pie and two hundred ham sandwiches and a bread pudding then gets the hump when no one will “pull their weight” and eat any.
We always wear stupid paper hats all day and Dad always tries to claim he saw Santa when he was up at 5AM cooking the turkey and Mum always wears a smart outfit all day and lipstick that gradually slides down her face. And at night we sit down and watch a movie on BBC1 but everyone always talks all the way through it and the phone keeps ringing with mad relatives who only call up once a year to say Happy Christmas and my mum talks to them all using her posh phone voice and we all giggle and eat After Eight mints and feel happy but a bit sick.
This year was totally the same as always, but different too.
For a start Nan brought Clement with her, who was in a proper happy mood and he turned up in a Santa hat with a big bottle of rum. So right away Dad and Clement started having a “wee nip just to test its consistency” and being proper silly and not concentrating on the brussels sprouts which was their job.
Everyone—Cava-Sue, Lewis, Mum, Murphy, Nan, they were laughing and joking and I thought I was too but I can’t have been ’cos folks kept asking me “What’s wrong with your mush?” and telling me, “Cheer up, it might never happen!” When of course I wanted to shout “IT HAS HAPPENED! I’VE CHEATED ON WESLEY BARRINGTON BAINS II WITH JOSHUA FALLOW AND I THINK I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE!!!”
Eventually Wesley turned up wearing his new navy Ralph Lauren Christmas sweatshirt from his mum. He was holding a big box which was all fancy-wrapped like Sonia Cathcart had been at it giving it the full yee-hah with some glitter and tinsel bows. The moment Wesley stepped in the house everyone cheered then started making funny comments about the big fancy present he was holding saying, “’Ere, Wesley, don’t get too excited about your gift from Shiraz! ’Cos we’ve all had ours. Flipping heck! No expense spared, mate!”
And this was when I started to realize I’d PROPER MESSED UP with Wesley’s present. ’Cos Wesley loves Christmas and Wesley loves giving presents and here he is with a big sparkly box of something amazing and here’s me with a can of antifreeze. And now I see that in no way is this going to be funny, like it was when Cava-Sue opened her Swiss Army Knife.
I thought we could do with some privacy so we went to my room. Wesley sat on the bed and looked at me and it was horrible ’cos it was like he KNEW about Josh but he couldn’t have, it was just me being paranoid. Then he passed me his present which I unwrapped, and it was something proper amazing. It was this well expensive desk lamp called an “anglepoise” like proper writers have. It was from that posh shop that Carrie always goes on about called Habitat.
“Do you like it?” Wesley said.
“I love it,” I said, feeling even more terrible now. “When did you get it?!”
“Oh, I drove to London for it last week when you were at Mr. Yolk,” he said.
“You went all the way to London?!” I said.
“Yeah.” He smiled. “Proper nightmare that place is. Well smelly.”
It was when I gave him the antifreeze that things started going properly tits up. Wesley started saying having no time is no excuse at Christmas ’cos everyone is busy. How I never have no time for him anymore. How ever since I started Sixth Form it’s like I’m a different person and he don’t know if he can put up with the new me.
So I said, “Oh bloody BUGGER OFF then, Wesley. ’Cos this is me now and I’m going to keep on being me and I AIN’T BLOODY CHANGING!”
Wesley picked up his antifreeze and his new scraper and his car keys and said, “Well, that’s that then, Shiraz, innit. See ya around.” Then he gave me a kiss on the forehead and walked down the stairs, out the door, and drove off.
I sat on the edge of my bed for a bit and felt well upset and sick and relieved all at the same time. Then I went downstairs into the kitchen where Nan and Clement were dancing together by the sink to a song by Shakin’ Stevens on Radio Essex. They had their hands around each other’s waists, looking into each other’s eyes like they were a bit in love with each other. When I walked in they both stopped.
So, reading this through all again from the top, it seems that me and Wesley Barrington Bains II are over. And my Nan is getting it on with Clement.
That Jesus Christ is quite obviously celebrating his birthday by having a right old giggle at my expense.