“I can’t stand it any more. I’m going to jump off the nearest bridge.” Helen’s outburst got the response she’d half expected – nothing.
She looked round the room. The table bore the remnants of their meal, red, gold and green garlands criss crossed the walls. Dozens of cards covered the mantelpiece, but despite all the glitter, it didn’t feel Christmassy to her. Even the wonderful tree, festooned with tinsel and dozens of twinkling white lights didn’t lift her spirits. All Christmas meant to her was extra work.
As she cleared the table, her brother Bob looked up from the TV. “If you’re going to the kitchen, make us a coffee, will you, sis?”
“I’d rather have tea,” said his wife, Patty, “and the kids could do with some more lemonade.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a sherry,” added Helen’s mother.