Page 96 of On Circus Lane

“He also had an affair with his half-sister,” Clara says rather tartly, but I ignore that in the wave of excitement that rushes through me.

“That is anexcellentidea,” I say, banging the table for emphasis.

Sal looks up from where she’s rooting through the mess on the table for the cracker gifts. “What’s a good idea, and did it really come from Arlo?”

My brother sticks his middle finger up at her. “Tom should speak to Bee.”

She blinks and then turns to examine me. “Hmm,” she finally says. She looks around. “Who got the teeny tiny tape measure in their cracker?” She goes back to sorting through napkins.

My mum stirs. “Do you like this boy, Tom?” she asks.

I look at her affectionately. Her long, dark hair is pulled up in a lopsided bun, and her blue eyes are shining.

“Yeah, I do.”

She and Clara share a smile, and Clara pats her hand affectionately. She loves my mum above everyone in the house. My dad comes in, setting a huge platter of biscuits and cheeses on the table. He nods at Jack. “Go and get the chutneys, babe.”

Jack disappears into the kitchen, and my dad settles back at the table. “What are we talking about?” he asks, slinging his arm over my mum’s shoulder. It always makes me smile. They never go anywhere without holding hands, and our childhood may have been eccentric and filled with rockers and drama, but we were surrounded by so much love and laughter, too.

“Tom’s young man,” my mum says. “He really likes him.”

“I do,” I say, staring at them. “He’s clever and funny and quirky.”

“Oh, that’s good. They’re thebestsort of people,” my mum says, smiling at me.

“Is he kind?” my dad asks. It’s always his first question.

I think back to the holiday. “Yes, but he hides it.” An idea occurs to me, beautiful in its simplicity, and I stand up. “I’m going to get him.” They all stare at me, so I elaborate. “I’m going to turn up on his doorstep—” I stop to hiccup. “—his doorstep and bloody tell him how I feel.”

“Oh, good heavens,” Clara mutters.

Arlo starts to laugh. “Yay,” he shouts. “Go for it.”

I grin at them. “I feel so much better now I’ve got a plan.”

“Is this a plan or a drunken idea?” Clara enquires.

“Both,” I announce. “I’m pretty sure he likes me. He did shag me all holiday, after all.”

“Goodness, it’s like Barbara Cartland sat down at our table,” my sister says and exclaims in triumph, holding up the tiny tape measure from the cracker. “I got it. Now, who’s nabbed the little bookmark?”

“You don’t read physical books,” my mum offers.

Sal shakes her head. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“Right, I’m off,” I announce, excitement fizzing through me at the thought of seeing Bee again.

My dad sits up straight. “Hang on. Let’s think about this.”

“Thank you,” Clara intones. “Finally, a word of wisdom.”

“You’d better have another glass of eggnog,” my dad continues. “It’s cold out there. You’ll need it for the walk.”

Arlo rolls his eyes. “Dad, if Tom has any more of this he’ll be over the limit for walking, let alone driving.”

“Nonsense,” my dad says. “Good things happen when you drink this.” He winks at my mum who smiles happily back.

“Yes, like alcoholic comas,” my brother mutters.

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