The Virtues Of Literature

Part 15

"It's bloody global warming, you know. We'll probably be underwater in another fifty years." Aoife complains, and no one disagrees.

Arthur is eyeing the rather huge pile of presents clustered under the tree, and he sees the others doing it too, but of course they know with frustration the unbreakable rule - everyone must be present for presents.

Dylan puts down his tea and hops off the sofa. "I'll go and wake up the others. Can't be arsed to wait for those lazy idiots any longer."

The stairs creak as he skips up, and Arthur doesn't struggle to hear the shouts and groans going on upstairs as he makes his own tea. After a couple of minutes of attempting to visualise what is happening by the stomps and yells and creaks, Sean crawls downstairs with a I'm-so-done, please-don't-fuck-with-me expression, and heads in a beeline for the coffee pot without a word of welcome or celebration. Dylan comes down a minute later, smiling one of his scary pissed off smiles, and resumes his position on the sofa, while Alistair appears looking tired and ruffled, albeit vaguely amused.

They all have a couple of bites of bacon and toast, relaxing into a less tense mood as they're all together, and the colourfully wrapped gifts draw them in. Since most of the Kirklands aren't even teenagers any more, their mother had a couple of times introduced the idea of perhaps not bothering with the whole Christmas thing, given the faff and expense. But the siblings had been in uproar to the extent that Harriet had almost completely abandoned the possibility, other than deciding to compromise with not bothering with stockings any longer.

A couple of hours are spent ripping open wrapping paper, giving hugs and thanks, laughing over bad presents and good jokes. By the end of the present-opening pandemonium, Arthur is pleasantly surprised by his gifts for the year especially having received far worse in the past. His mother bought him some pans and kitchen utensils; not the most thrilling presents but he respects her liking for practically; as well as a surprisingly good looking coat, another less good looking Christmas jumper, and an IOU for driving lessons next summer. Sean got him the same Yankee candle that he got Arthur and everyone else last year, the years before then, this year, and will probably get next year, while Aoife gave him chocolate, Dylan got him a Waterstone's gift voucher, and Alistair didn't bother with getting anyone anything.

Arthur had thought for a while beforehand about what to get Francis for Christmas, wanting to get something that shows that he can actually care sometimes. It felt a little unoriginal, although it was the best he could come up with, but Arthur bought his a really nice fancy art set, with paints and pencils and charcoal and 'Francis' inscribed on the case. The Frenchman had gasped and delicately examined the gift, showing very little of the fake gratitude and wow-I'm-so-happy expression that is so common. Arthur braced himself for the enthusiastic bear hug that quickly followed.

Arthur doesn't know why he was surprised when Francis pulled out a sparkly gift bag with a grin. It contained a special signed copy of one of his favourite books with an attractive hard cover, and one of those proper designer pens you get from special pen shops. He had expressed his thanks the best he could, though felt a little outdone.

They all gather at the table for Christmas lunch, all of the dishes spread out atop the tablecloth; a huge turkey, piles of steaming vegetables and roast potatoes, jugs of meat gravy, pigs in blankets and a tray of stuffing with both crispy bits and soft bits. The smells and the appearance of such an impressive compilation of food is enough to require Arthur to physically restrain himself from the feast, feeling fidgety and impatient until everyone's plates are suitably stacked.

They all wish each other a "Merry Christmas!" and thank Harriet for the food, before digging in like the pack of ravenous carnivores that the Kirkland's are. Arthur checks Francis seems to be doing well (he feels responsible for him as Francis is his guest), and he looks to be enjoying the food plenty. Meri appears with the prospects of getting a couple of scraps or plates to lick, stalking not very sneakily between chairs and under the table, tickling feet with her tail. Arthur narrows his eyes at Sean sneaking her pieces of turkey under the table - she's supposed to be on a diet but this is probably why it isn't working. He can just about see Crumpets sleeping in a cat bed in the other room, and feels a little pride that his cat is being good and polite and a healthy weight.

Someone points out the Christmas crackers lain on the table, and they pick one up to pull with a partner. His mother to his right offers Arthur her cracker, and they pull it apart with a bang, the small traces of gunpowder inside the colourful cardboard tube emitting a loud crack of ignition. He is left with the short end of the tube, Harriet holding the remainder and digging inside to find the contents, all the while cackling gleefully at her win. Arthur scowls, he hates losing, and turns to use his own cracker with Francis. They pull it apart and Arthur only needs to look at Francis' smug face to know that he has lost again. Francis laughs and gives him the remainder of the tube since he hasn't won yet. Arthur grumpily pulls out the paper crown, setting it on top of his head, as well as a plastic leapfrog and a crappy Christmas joke. Dylan tells his joke enthusiastically, which is guessed almost instantly, and their meals continues over conversation on what makes comedy good or bad.

By late afternoon Arthur is starting to feel tired already as he tries not to fall asleep in front of the Doctor Who Christmas special, the day having soared like always. He jumps as sudden pressure blossoms on his shoulder. Arthur is obviously not the only tired one; he sees and feels Francis leaning against him, obviously having nodded off. He feels a little uncomfortable at first but soon relaxes into the position while only vaguely worrying about how he might fall asleep too, like this, but deciding he doesn't really care.

Later in evening they get up to have some leftover turkey sandwiches and sausages for supper, though Arthur imagines that like him, no one is really actually hungry. After the huge lunch, masses of chocolate and the Christmas pudding that had been heavily consumed earlier in the day, no one could be actively hungry.

Sean and Aoife head up to bed first at around eleven o'clock, and everyone else follows not too long after. It takes a minute for Arthur and Francis to make it up the stairs; they had both had their fair share of wine, sherry and a little beer throughout the day, and Arthur feels rather out of it. He comes very close to booting Meri (looking even fatter than usual, if that's possible) who is sleeping on the landing. Already dressed in Christmas pyjamas, they collapse straight into bed and quickly fall asleep side by side. The temporary bed is yet again forgotten on the floor, and this time Francis hadn't even needed an invite.

~~~~~~~~~~

Okay eeee, I'm sorry I didn't upload again last week, I've just found it difficult to write much faster than I am at the moment without it sounding crap (or at least to me), so I'm afraid that it'll probably be on a two week basis or something most of the time now. Although, I say that, unfortunately there's only going to be one or two (or a slight possibility of three) more chapters I'm afraid, SORRYYY :;(∩'﹏'∩);:. But thanks so much for sticking with me xxx Btw there's also the fact that my proper, real, important maths exams literally start tomorrow and take place over like, more than a week, I might be a little busy, hehe *cries*. Seriously though, we have FOUR exams on just maths (c" ತ,_ತ). Anyway, sorry, I'll see you soon!! Love youuu xxx

(Disclaimer if you're Meri: Hey Meri you're finally reading this lmao! Just making sure you know Scooter is fat, and you are most definitely not lololl. Xxxx)