Every year Mother would say the same thing: ‘We have to invite her, we’re all the family she’s got.’
‘But why can’t she be nice?’ one of us would ask.
Mother would smile sadly, ‘It’s only once a year,’ was all the answer she could supply.
And so every year Auntie Vi would spend Christmas Day with us.
Father would collect her after Mass and she would arrive with bundles of carefully wrapped and utterly crap presents. We didn’t have to open them to know. They were always crap.
She would be barely in the door before the nasty comments began, she had at least one for everyone, she must have worked on them all year round. I guess it gave her something to live for.
‘A girl as big as you shouldn’t wear stripes.’
‘I guess you will never get a promotion.’
‘You should try to smile more dear, no boy falls for a grumpy face.’
‘The turkey is dry again, I wonder what it is that you keep doing wrong…’
But Auntie Vi passed away last month, so for the first time ever we might have a pleasant day.
She was right about the turkey though.