I’ve got to admit, this has become a bit of a hard slog for me.  Coming back every week to analyse my youthful pretensions in great detail…  It takes a lot out of me.  But I’ll soldier on, because there’s only six chapters after this one, and after that I’m free.  Free, I say.

Oddly enough, this is around the point where fifteen-year-old me started getting fed up of this story, too.  It took me three or four months to write the first thirteen chapters, but a whole year to write the last seven.  I can’t remember exactly why- I think I just got fed up of fannying around with no plot in sight.  So I started writing a story in which most of the world’s population suddenly disintegrated instead, which was much more fun.

This chapter is called “Shrinking Violet.”  That’s probably not the worst pun in this story, but it comes close.

I could hear the cries of “Mummy!  Santa’s been!” from Cherry’s room.  Apparently Ben had decided it was time for us to wake up.

Cute Ben moment number 167.

Gary was still asleep, as usual.  As I looked at him, I wondered how a person could get away with looking as gorgeous as he did. 

He doesn’t get away with it.  He pays for it in sheer woobiedom, as well you know.

If you ignored his daft haircut and the worried look he always seemed to have, you noticed.  The first things I noticed were that his eyes were the size of saucers and bluer than any ocean I’d ever seen (mind you, since I live in Britain that isn’t much of an achievement), and aside from a few faded scars I wasn’t allowed to ask about, his skin was just, well, pink. 

“On closer inspection, Gary was made entirely out of candyfloss.  He was delicious.”

You might think that’s normal, but there aren’t many people in the world whose skin is pink (or brown for that matter) all over.  I know mine is covered by moles, pressure marks, spots, and the BCG scar that just won’t go away.  But Gary was lucky as far as his looks went.  Well, he had to be lucky somewhere. 

Shut up, Anja.  Remember what Gary said.  You’re not allowed to feel sorry for him.  Even now, years later, after so much has happened, I’m still not allowed.

Fifteen-year-old me was protesting a bit too much with this whole “Anja isn’t allowed to feel sorry for Gary” thing.  I think I realised that I hadn’t really written Gary to inspire any emotion but pity.  And, while fifteen-year-old me most definitely thought that pity was enough to sustain a relationship, I decided it was probably best not to be too blatant about it.

I stuck my hand on his shoulder.  “Hey, Gary,” I whispered, “Ben the Destroyer reckons it’s time to get up.”

Gary looked up at me with a lazy smile.  “We’d better do what he says.  It sounds like Cherry’s suffering enough already.”

He was right.  Cherry had clearly refused to move from her bed, and in response Ben was jumping on it.  Such is the desperation of a two-year-old boy to get down to some serious present opening.   

Cute Ben Moment number 1020.

Joe was the last to get up.  I couldn’t believe his nerve when he gave me a creepy grin, which I was almost certain was directed at my chest.  It probably was, now I come to think of it.  Even though I was wearing a turtleneck jumper.  That probably shows something about his character, but I can’t think what right now.

Oh, come on.  You were coming up with creative insults for Joe all last chapter- no need to be shy now.

“Merry Christmas, Ginger,” he sniggered.  My dye job was beginning to look slightly less glaring red by now, admittedly, but I still wasn’t having any of it.

“Name’s Anja, Joe,” I mumbled, “Having to call myself Honour half the time is bad enough without you adding ‘Ginger’ to the mix.”

Joe seemed to take this as a joke.  Well, he might have.  It was hard to tell with someone who spent a lot of time making fun of everyone.   

…When was the last time we saw Joe making fun of anyone who wasn’t Mr Daly?

In any case, he didn’t seem to acknowledge my wariness around him.

This is how Anja confronts all her enemies.  By thinking evil thoughts at them until they can take no more.  It’s not very effective.
By the time we got downstairs, the living room already looked like a bombsite.  In the dim, colourful light of the Christmas lights, Ben was enthusiastically ripping the paper off all the presents under the tree.  Apparently he’d never heard of labels, especially since he looked so shocked when Cherry told him that maybe, just maybe, not all of the 50 to 100 presents under the tree were for him.   

Cute Ben Moment number 1,000,003.

Viewing the carnage, I suggested that everyone opened three of their own presents (not half of Joe’s like Ben had done) before having breakfast.

When we eventually managed to eat something (Ben was very choosy about which gifts he opened), poor old Cherry only managed to take a bite or two out of her toast before the doorbell rang.

“Who do you think that is?” I asked.  In my family, the tradition was to deny the existence of the outside world on 25^th December. 

Well, in this story, your tradition has been to deny the existence of your family and any grief and suffering they may have experienced due to your actions.  So I don’t think you get to complain about somebody disrupting your Christmas.
Cherry shook her head in confusion, and opened the door to a nervous dark-haired boy who seemed creepily familiar.

“Um… Hi, Cherry,” he said in a strangled way.  Apparently, Joe wasn’t the only one who had feelings for my cousin. 

“Hi, Vick.  What’s up?”

Vick…  Where had I heard that name before?   

Well, there are fewer than twenty named characters in this thing, so it shouldn’t take you too long to guess

Before my memory could answer, this Vick person was talking again.  “Well, we’re going out to this restaurant at around seven tonight, and my dad said it would be good if you and Ben could come.  He also said to bring your sister and her boyfriend, too.”  He smiled awkwardly.  “It could be fun.  I haven’t met your sister before, see, and neither has Robbie.  So, can you come?” 

Gosh, they’re going to the This Restaurant!  The most exclusive place in town!

Cherry looked worried for a moment, but she managed to hide it with a jokey reply.  “Well, there was this Christmas special I wanted to watch on telly, but I guess I could tape it.  OK, V, pick us up at seven.”

By the time Vick closed the door, I’d worked out who he was… 

…two or three paragraphs after the readers did.

…and why it was a very, very good thing that he couldn’t see Joe in the kitchen. 

These people fail at being in hiding, don’t they?

“Hey, Joe,” Cherry shouted, “Your brother just came round.  I said we’d go out with him and your parents at seven.  Is that OK?” 

At seven-thirty, I was sitting at a restaurant table with Gary, Cherry, Ben, James Foster, Melissa Foster, Jack, Robbie, Vick and Leah Foster, and, surprisingly enough, Ditsy Emily from Blaze.  I’d known her for nearly two months and she’d never mentioned that she was Jack’s fiancée.

Maybe she mentioned it but you didn’t listen.  After all, you’ve managed to memorise exactly two of your co-workers’ names- you don’t seem like the sort of person who’d take an interest in their love lives.

“I proposed to her in September,” Jack was explaining, “But we’ve known each other for ages.  She got the job in Blaze so I could see her more, didn’t you, honey?” 

This is how people in a long-term relationship talk.

As he looked at Emily, my heart jolted.  Jack’s smile had turned into a smirk that reminded me that he and Joe were identical twins.  For a minute, I thought that Joe had turned up to surprise us.  That would quite possibly have ruined the whole night. 

“Yeah!  We’re having a lovely time, eating dinner with a murderer.  We don’t want Joe to turn up and ruin it!”

“It’s such a shame,” Melissa trilled…

 How do you “trill” the words, “It’s such a shame”?  Is Melissa a budgie?

…”I thought your wedding would be the thing that brought the family back together, but there’s so many people whose seats are going to be empty.  Joe’s, Jean’s, Vi’s…”

That got my attention.  First I was just vaguely wondering who Vi was, then I remembered about Violet…  Maybe Vi was Melissa’s name for her?  Maybe they were friends?  Maybe…  Why was Violet’s seat going to be empty? 

 Anja’s been pretty slow on the uptake for the last few chapters, hasn’t she?

James’ face dropped, Jack went red, and Cherry whispered, “Now she’s done it.”

“It might all have been different if Violet was still alive,” James sighed, “Violet might have persuaded Joe to stay with his family, and then he’d never have gone near the wretched bus.  Underneath it all, Joe was like the rest of us, always was.  He’d do anything she said…”

“So why do you never do anything I say?” Leah snapped.  Apparently all this Violet business was really getting her goat.

“He liked Vi better,” Robbie sniggered, prompting Leah to hit him on the head with her mat.  I wasn’t planning on telling anyone, but I made a mental note to buy Leah some sweets later as a reward.  Robbie had been a horrible little brat all evening, and he was finally getting what he deserved.  Also, I saw that Leah wasn’t the perfect goody-two-shoes Joe had made her out to be.  I should have known that I couldn’t trust Joe as far as I could throw him.

 “Joe has a slightly rose-tinted view of his sister’s behaviour!  Therefore, he is eeevil!”

Still, how come Leah and Robbie knew about Violet?  I don’t have first-hand experience of this, but usually if your dad’s cheating on your mum, he tries to keep it a secret from everyone. 

 Like I said- slow on the uptake.

And apparently, Melissa knew as well.  She looked as sad as James did, but she could still see the malign effects on her younger children.  “James, can you please stop talking about her?” she hissed, “You know Leah doesn’t like it.  She gets the impression that you’re comparing her to Vi.”

Now I was really confused.  Why would someone compare their daughter to an ex-girlfriend? 

OH, FOR CLIFF’S SAKE.

I couldn’t find out about anything, because Jack and Vick were giving me strong “Don’t ask” signals with their eyebrows.  Fortunately, someone had enough sense to change the subject.

“I fell over outside!” Ben announced to all and sundry.  Leah wasn’t the only one I’d be buying sweets for.

“Poor Ben!” Melissa squealed, more out of relief than concern really, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Ben replied, “Gary picked me up.”  Gary was rapidly becoming Ben’s favourite person (not least because he did everything Ben said), and one of the advantages of that position was that Ben talked about him all the time.  “Gary draws all the time, Auntie Melissa.  And he likes Auntie Annie a lot.  And he…”

 Cute Ben Mo…  Oh, forget it, we’ll be here all day.  It is nice to see somebody appreciating Gary without harping on about his tragic, tormented soul, though.

Cherry told me later that she was worried that any minute Ben would mention Joe, which would require an elaborate cover story…

Again- these people fail at hiding out.  And why would you put a two-year-old in a story and then not have him do the things that a two-year-old would do in real life?  Like, for instance, blab the big secret to everyone he meets?  That could have been a useful source of tension, there.

…(we’d already had to make something up about why he called me “Annie” instead of “Honour”). 

We will not actually hear this elaborate cover story, but trust Anja when she says it was a good ‘un.

But at the time, I had no idea why she suddenly turned round and said, “Robbie, do you want to take Leah and Ben to get some ice-cream?  They’re 20p each, I think.”  She ferreted around in her purse for three 20p pieces, then handed them to Robbie.  This, in my opinion, was a bad move.  Robbie would probably try to use all three 20ps to buy something big for himself.  (He did, but fortunately his plan was thwarted when Leah twisted his arm behind his back and took the money.  Definitely not a goody-two-shoes.  I know all this because Ben delightedly told me in the car on the way home.)

Ben’s very articulate for a two-year-old, have you noticed?

Emily looked from side to side.  “It was funny, you talking about Vi earlier,” she said, changing the subject back and therefore ruining all of Ben’s good work, “‘Cause I can still remember what she was like.  She and Leah definitely look and sound a bit like each other.  Did Leah ever know her?”

“Not really,” Vick replied, “Leah was only… um… five or so months old when Vi died.”

Apparently, this wasn’t as important a piece of news to Emily as it was to me.  “Oh, right,” she replied, staring into her pizza, “Only I thought Leah might have copied the way Vi spoke or something.  You know, so you wouldn’t miss her as much…?”

James nodded, still looking miserable.  “In a way, Violet’s spirit lives on through her little sister.  But nothing can stop us missing her.  You never get over losing a child.”

Suddenly, everything made sense.

THANK YOU.  You know, when the murderer you’re trying to catch has to spell out a vital piece of information before you get it, you’re really not that great a detective.

Violet hadn’t been James’ girlfriend at all.  No wonder he felt free to talk about her in front of Melissa and his children.  No wonder Leah thought her dad was comparing her to Violet.  Violet had been her older sister, someone she was expected to take the place of.  Expected by James, anyway.

And the “unforgivable” thing that Joe had done to his sister wasn’t necessarily something he’d done to Leah.  It could have been something he’d done to Violet.

And considering that Violet was dead, one guess seemed glaringly obvious.

 Join us again for chapter 15, in which Anja reads Melissa’s mind, and I wonder why Melissa wasn’t the protagonist.  I think she’s the third character I’ve said that about.