The turkey hit the wall and slid down, leaving a trail of grease.
My mum stood at one end of the table, nostrils flared, still wearing her apron, her sleeves rolled up showing the bruises on her arms, the knife shook in her hand.
My dad sat, his eyes distant. Suddenly, he banged both fists on the table. I snatched the carving fork and stood next to mum. My sister cowered behind us.
He rose from his seat, swayed a little and looked like he was about to speak. Instead, he turned and left.
It was the best Christmas ever.
My mum stood at one end of the table, nostrils flared, still wearing her apron, her sleeves rolled up showing the bruises on her arms, the knife shook in her hand.
My dad sat, his eyes distant. Suddenly, he banged both fists on the table. I snatched the carving fork and stood next to mum. My sister cowered behind us.
He rose from his seat, swayed a little and looked like he was about to speak. Instead, he turned and left.
It was the best Christmas ever.
