As the plane pitched and lurched I fought the urge to vomit. Not a chance of getting any sleep on the plane. I would have had better luck on a roller coaster. I wasn't usually superstitious, but  sitting in row thirteen, I began to wonder if there really was something unlucky about it. As we left the cloud bank on the descent, I looked out of the window, hoping to be comforted by the sight of England's green and pleasant lands. Instead, I was confronted by the image of sky, runway, sky, runway, sky, much closer runway... The aircraft slammed onto the tarmac, and skidded to a screeching halt. Waiting to get out of the aircraft was agony. I clutched my hand luggage, ready to use it as a weapon if anyone in front of me dawdled. On the way out I thanked the pilot and cabin crew, as did everyone else, but I actually wanted to slap the idiot for having chosen to fly in such dangerous conditions. I raced for the ladies, trying to keep the contents of my stomach down. I pushed open the door, and was immediately sick all over the floor. I had almost made it. Oh well. I rinsed out my mouth, splashed water on my green face. The door started to open, 'Don't come in unless you're desperate! Someone has puked everywhere. It's disgusting!' I shouted. The door slammed shut.

I felt lightheaded, and although I knew I should probably find a cleaner to mop up my mess, I was having enough trouble remaining upright. I followed the flow of humanity through passport control, glad that the line was moving quickly. I went to turn on my phone and found I'd never turned it off. Ooops. My thoughts were interrupted by the passport officer asking me if I knew my passport was about to expire. I did. I headed out to arrivals where my eldest brother was waiting for me.

I hadn't seen him for six months. His hair had turned from salt-and-pepper to white. He looked so much like Mum that my heart jumped into my mouth. I wanted to throw my arms around him and hold him so tight. I wanted to break down in tears and sob and tell him how much I missed him, and how much I missed Mum, and how sad and lonely I'd been. I wanted to tell him how great it was to see him. Instead, we had a quick, perfunctory hug. 'Good flight?'

'No.'

'Oh well. You're here now. Let's get you to the car and head home.'

'Do you mind if we stop for a moment? There was so much turbulence, I feel a bit peaky.'

'Sure. Ok. Erm... are you alright? You need to sit down. Erm... Let's go... let's go over here.' He guided me to a seat and I slumped down into it. He patted my hand awkwardly. ‘Is there anything I can do?'

'I'd really like something to drink. Something sweet. Please.’

By the time he got back the world had stopped spinning. The drink tasted divine. 'I'm really sorry about this,' I said ‘I haven't been well, and the flight was unbelievably rough. And I hardly slept last night, and …'

'It's fine, it’s fine,' said David. 'You're here, safe and sound. You'll feel better in a moment.' 'Thank you.'

'Erm.... I might just call Louisa and tell her we're running a little bit late.' I could hear my mother's voice in my head saying, 'That wife of his! How did your brother end up being such a doormat? '

I could tell David was being told off, as if my delayed flight and nausea was somehow his fault personally. He got off the phone and said, 'We have to pick up a few things at Waitrose on the way home, if that's fine by you. If not, I could drop you off and go back out again.'

'Of course it's fine. Let's go.'

My brother was very pleased that he'd found a parking space so close to the terminal. It was a relief to get into the left-hand passenger seat. Despite years of living on the continent, I still felt that other Europeans drove on the wrong side of the road.

The storm had calmed to heavy rain. Driving conditions seemed reasonably dangerous. The journey was punctuated with my brother apologising for the wet roads. He turned on the car radio to a very boring political discussion. He turned it off and suggested we have a chat instead. The tone of his voice made me wonder what bombshell he had to drop.

'So… I phoned Dad a while back to tell him what happened to Mum.'

'OK.'

Silence.

'We've spoken a few times since then.' Silence.

'I take it you'd rather not talk about Dad.'

'David, I don't know what you want me to say. Are we supposed to have sort of nicey-nicey conversation where I ask you all about him, and you tell me he wants me to know that he loves me despite everything that happened twenty years ago, I should let go of my grudges, not that he can understand my hostility after so much time has elapsed, and I have some great epiphany and get in touch with him myself, and we all walk off into a pastel sunset?'

'I shouldn't have brought this up yet.'

'No, you shouldn't have brought this up at all. If you want to have contact with him, that's your choice. You know how I feel about the situation and I'd appreciate it if you could respect how I feel.'

'There's something I want to...'

'David, I don't want to hear about it.' I turned the radio back on. Not one word of our conversation had risen above a softly spoken tone. We were not a family of shouters. Sometimes I wished that we were capable of expressing extreme emotion.

The car ride was uncomfortable, but Waitrose cheered me up enormously. I'd forgotten how good English supermarkets could be. Being so close to Christmas, there were special offers on mince pies and sparkling wine. I could see from the contents of David's basket that he was intending to make mulled wine, and I wondered how I'd avoid drinking it. I didn’t like it at the best of times, and right now, the very thought of it made me feel sick. While we were standing in the checkout queue, David sang along to the carols that were being piped into the crowd. I joined in. Why was it that shouting was not permitted in our family, but silliness was?

By the time we got back to the car park, the rain had stopped. As we drove out of the car park David asked, 'Are you excited about seeing the house?'

I'd only seen their new place once, about a year ago. My mind had been too focused on Mum to take in many details. All I remembered was a lot of dust. I hadn't visited after that. I couldn’t remember why I'd agreed to stay with them over Christmas instead of a hotel. Perhaps as some sort of penance for not being in touch enough. I really didn't want to go there at all, but it seemed important to David so I said, 'Honestly I can't wait. Have the kids settled in a bit better?'

'Sort of. Alice has finally stopped talking about the old house. She’s still having asthma attacks. At first we just assumed it was from the dust, but that’s gone and it’s not getting any better. And she refuses to go to the doctor.' I sensed a story and said nothing. It took three sets of lights before he spoke again. 'When we first moved in, Alice had some quite bad nightmares. Louisa wanted to take her to a psychologist. Apparently Alice had recently seen some old black and white film where the family tricked the daughter into a mental hospital….'

'And she thought that would happen to her?'

'I'm not sure Louisa handled the situation brilliantly, suggesting sedatives and so on. And anti-psychotic meds. I think she could have been a bit more tactful.'

I had no doubt Louisa had been unnecessarily cruel. That was my sister-in-law’s modus operandi. David said, ' I do love my wife, but sometimes … '

… Sometimes she is a caustic bitch, I thought. She could occasionally be pleasant, when there was something in it for her. There are very few people she was nice to, and my brother wasn’t one of them.

David said, 'Alice's birth was hard on both of them, and I can understand that must have affected the relationship greatly, but...'

But that was thirteen years ago. Maybe if Alice had been a boy, Louisa would have been 

less openly hostile. But Alice wasn’t, and Louisa hadn’t. Still, things must have been very 

hard lately for David to want to talk about any of this with me, I reflected.

We were turning into Mildmay Road, gliding towards the 1950s house in a row of Victorian terraces. I knew that our brother John had done some research on the history of the house, and was going to present it to David and Louisa on Christmas Day. Being an architect, this sort of project delighted John, and as he'd had a hand in the renovations, he seemed to feel a sense of propriety.

I could see Alice looking out of one of the bedroom windows. I waved to her and she moved away. She had always been so shy.

 

Before I'd got out of the car properly, the front door was flung open and Louisa 

strode out. She berated her husband – ‘Finally ! Let’s check what you’ve forgotten to get’ 

- before greeting me with, 'Lovely to see you! You look good with a few extra pounds!' I 

was bustled inside. Alice stood on the stairs, smiling and blushing.

'Alice,' said her mother, 'Stop standing there like a mute. Come and greet your aunty properly.'

I held my arms open for her, and she gave me a hug. She was nearly as tall as me these days. Up close, I could see how pale she looked, with huge dark circles under her eyes .

'We had an asthma attack this morning,' Louisa said.

'You don’t need to tell everyone!' Alice looked close to tears.

'I don't know what you're so ashamed of! You wouldn't get these attacks if you did more exercise! You have no one to blame for your weakness but yourself.' My sister-in-law’s voice was sickly sweet and she smiled as she spoke.

'You know,' I said, 'I had asthma as a child  and the doctor told my mother that exercise brought on the asthma attacks.'

Louisa ploughed on, 'Well, that was rather a long time ago. I expect there have been some advances in the medical word since then. Now I expect you'd like to see the house.'

I gave Alice a sympathetic look, and allowed myself to be dragged around. Louisa talked endlessly about her son, how wonderful he was, and how well he'd done at school. I pretended to admire light fittings and ignore unfinished paint work and putty smudges on the newly double glazed windows. Alice trailed behind looking miserable. My nephew was locked in his room at the top of the house, and when we knocked on the door, he shouted at us to go away. Louisa seemed delighted. ‘Boys!’ she tutted. ‘I suppose your brothers were exactly the same at their age.’

‘Not really.’ My mother would never have put up with that sort of behaviour, was what I didn’t say.

'You haven't seen the new kitchen yet, have you?' David chipped in. He led the way to the new extension spreading his arms out.

'It's very nice,' I said, although I found it cold and unwelcoming, the opposite of how I liked kitchens to be. David demonstrated gadgets and 'features', and I thought about my own chaotic kitchen in Krakow that smelled like coffee and toast. I wondered how long I'd have to politely sit in this sterile place.

'John helped us,' said Louisa. 'He really is extremely talented. So ambitious!'

When David and Louisa married, a lot of people wondered if Louisa had chosen the wrong brother. She and John seemed much more suited to one another, him, with his ruthless ambition and lack of concern for anyone's feelings, and her, with all the tact and warmth of a 1960s tower block. If David hadn't been lonely and heartbroken after the love of his young life went off to pursue a career in New York, I knew he would have made a better choice. I had told him at the time to go after his ex-girlfriend and insist they get married. Instead, he had chosen Louisa.

David urged us to sit down at the table. 'You must be hungry Kate,' he said.

'Actually, my stomach's still feeling a bit delicate.'

'How about some toast with your tea?' I knew he wouldn’t give up until I accepted. I relented.

'Tea and toast would be lovely, thank you.'

Alice was sitting next to me, and summoned up the courage to say, 'There's a film on telly this afternoon. Would you like to watch it with me?'

'Not one of your silly old black and white films, is it? Why would Kate want to watch a boring old film?' scoffed Louisa.

'What's the name of the film?' I asked.

‘ “It's A Wonderful Life”. Have you seen it before?' asked Alice. 

'Yeah, but ages ago. It’s very special. What time does it start?’.

'In about ten minutes.'

'Why don't you both go and get settled and I'll bring the tea and toast to you in the front room?'  asked David.

'We don't eat in the front room, we eat at the table,' said my sister-in-law.

'Well, you can make an exception for me today, can't you?' I got up. 'Let's go.'

As we walked to the front room, the stair cupboard was flung open, and my horrendous nephew leapt out, shouting. It scared the hell out of me. He laughed and laughed.

'What a nice welcome!' I said. 'How about, hello Aunty Kate, how was your flight?'

Josh snorted and smirked, then pushed Alice hard as he ran past her and up the stairs.

'Are you OK sweetheart? You hit the wall pretty hard.'

From behind us, her mother said, 'She's fine.'

I turned around. 'Did you just see what he did to her? And how he scared me? Are you going to let him get away with that?'

‘Boys will be boys.'

Alice said very softly, 'It's no use. She won't do anything.'

'Are you complaining about me?'

'No Mum.'

'Good!'

Alice and I went into the front room and settled ourselves on the sofa. David came in with the tea and toast.

'David’ I started, ‘What are you going to do about Josh? He scared me half to death and hurt his sister!' My voice sounded like Mum's.

'I’ll have a little chat with him.'

'You should probably do a bit more than that.'

'Let me deal with my son my own way.' He left the room in a huff. It was going to be a long five days.

Alice turned on the huge TV. 'I really love Christmas films,' she said.

'Me too.’

She looked at me for a second, then threw her arms around my neck. 'I'm so glad you're here!' 'I'm glad I'm here too. ' I hugged her back tightly.

Normally, I hated children. I had never been the sort of woman who goes gaga over a newborn baby. But Alice was different. I had always liked her.

I could feel emotion rising in me like bile. It was guilt. I felt guilty that I wasn't around to protect her from her horrible mother and brother. David was lovely, but wet.

 

The film started, and Alice sat up straight and excited. After about fifteen minutes, David joined us again. I gave him my best did-you-have-that-chat-with-Josh look, and he gave me a mind-your-own-business frown.

Around the time they started singing 'Buffalo gals', I heard my niece’s voice a million miles away saying, 'Aunty Kate! Wake up! '

'I'm just resting my eyes for a moment....'

'Don't fall asleep! Stay awake! Watch the film!' She sounded anxious. The relief of sleep overtook me, and I drifted further and further away from the film and the front room and Alice.

I could smell fire and brick dust. I couldn't see a lot because of the smoke. What sounded like an air raid siren howled, and I knew it was signalling the all clear. I could make out a woman nearby, wearing an ambulance uniform. She was carrying a wheelbarrow with a bucket hooked over the handle. She stopped, climbed into the rubble, and started picking up lumps of flesh. Most of it was unrecognisable, but I saw a foot, and a jaw with teeth in it. She emptied the bucket into the wheelbarrow, then climbed back into the rubble and started again.

I woke up, gasping for breath. The television was off, and Alice was sitting on the floor in front of me holding my hand. The curtains weren't drawn and it was already dark outside. Alice looked intense. She said, 'Did you have the wheelbarrow dream?

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