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they don’t. Not if you go to antique fairs and do someone a favour and find a little emerald for a special small girl,’ said Dad.
    He unhooked the ring from its little velvet cushion and put it on the ring finger of my right hand.
    â€˜It fits perfectly!’ I said.
    â€˜Well, I had it made specially for you, Princess Emerald,’ said Dad.
    â€˜But however much have you spent on all of us?’ Mum said, shaking her head as if she’d been swimming underwater.
    â€˜Never you mind,’ said Dad. ‘I wanted this to be a special Christmas, one the kids will remember for ever.’
    â€˜But we owe so much already—’
    â€˜Leave it, Julie,’ Dad said sharply.
    So Mum left it. We had a big Christmas cuddle, the five of us – six, counting Dancer – and then we heard Gran going downstairs to put the kettle on.
    Vita insisted on having Dancer on her lap at breakfast time. Maxie held onto his felt tips too, balancing them across his bony knees. I stuck my hand out after every mouthful, admiring my ring.
    â€˜Haven’t we got the loveliest dad ever?’ said Vita.
    Gran sniffed. ‘What have you done now, Frankie, robbed a bank?’ she said.
    Dad laughed and put his arm round her. ‘Now, Ellen, no po-faces, it’s Christmas. Come on, you old bat, you know you love me really.’ He gave her a kiss. She pushed him away, shaking her head, but she couldn’t help smiling. She actually burst out laughing when she opened
her
present from Dad. It was a pair of tight designer jeans.
    â€˜For God’s sake, Frankie, I’m a grandma!’
    â€˜And you’ve got almost as lovely a figure as your daughter, so flaunt it, eh? You’ll look great in the jeans, much better than those baggy old trousers. Try them on!’
    â€˜Don’t think you can get round
me
,’ said Gran – but she changed into her new jeans after breakfast.
    Dad was right. Gran had a really good figure, though we’d never noticed it before. From the waistdown she didn’t look a bit like our gran. Dad gave her a wolf whistle and she told him not to be so daft – but she blushed.
    â€˜I’m not going to wear them
out
of course,’ she said. ‘Still, they’re fine for the house.’
    She had to go and change out of them again after Christmas dinner. We normally all eat separately. Vita and Maxie and I have our tea after school. Mum just has snacks while she’s waiting to have a meal later with Dad. Gran heats up her own Lean Cuisines and eats them off a tray when
EastEnders
and
Coronation Street
are on television. But Christmas is different. We all eat together with a proper tablecloth and Gran’s best white-and-gold china from the cabinet where she keeps her pink crinoline lady and the balloon-seller and the little mermaid with a green scaly tail and the little girl and boy in white china nightgowns.
    We had crackers so we all wore paper hats and shouted out silly mottoes. Vita snorted with laughter while she was drinking her Ribena ‘wine’ and it went right up her nose and then spattered the white embroidered cloth. Gran would have gone mad if Maxie or I had done it, but she just shook her head fondly at Vita and told her to calm down.
    Vita made a fuss about her Christmas dinnertoo. She wouldn’t eat a single sprout or parsnip and only one forkful of turkey. She just wanted a plate of roast potatoes.
    â€˜Well, why shouldn’t the kid have exactly what she fancies on Christmas Day?’ said Dad, scraping everything off her plate and then piling it high with potatoes.
    Maxie started noisily demanding a plate of roast potatoes too. Mum and Gran sighed at Dad for starting something.
    â€˜Still, at least our Em’s eating her plateful,’ said Mum.
    â€˜Em always eats everything. It’s a wonder she doesn’t gollop the plate down too,’ said Gran.
    She’d started to nag me about calories and