CRISPY OUT. Caspar grinned, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, while inhaling the freshness. Perfect for Christmas Eve. Might even snow tonight.
Everyone was coming over in a few hours. His turn to host the Bell family this year, and he looked forward to the chaos, although his wife was super stressed, had chased him out into the cold because apparently every word he offered was criticism. It wasn’t and he knew Adele knew that; her perfectionist nature just made her so grumpy. Laughing, he wandered across the park opposite their home, heading to the small fishpond.
He also looked forward to unveiling his repaired camera with Tilio present, wondering at the same time what she’d give him this year. His sister sourced the best gifts, but man, the camera she gave him last Christmas needed work. He’d enjoyed every moment of it. Luckily, she found a box camera, circa 1880-ish, which used celluloid, and that meant it was fixable. A fixed-focus lens and single shutter speed that in the old days came pre-loaded with enough film for a hundred snaps or so, which then needed to be sent away to be developed and the camera reloaded with film. Simple as the concept was, that had been the part he had trouble with, as in sourcing the small parts to enable him to reload himself, never mind finding someone reliable to supply him with film. The shroud turned out to be a sales gimmick; a box camera didn’t need it. It fell apart anyway.
He hadn’t yet used the contraption, had waited for Tilio, but tonight he intended to capture festivities on the film he managed to instal three days ago. Might not end up offering much, but was worth the effort if it worked. Adele would be taking pics with her mobile phone, just in case, as she teased him last night.
The goldfish finned their way over on noticing him. As ever, he had a handful of pellets in his pocket, which he dispersed, kneeling then to watch them gobble it up. He’d love doing this with a son or daughter in the years to come, but not yet. He and Adele had agreed to wait until she turned thirty. Two years to go before they started trying. Ha, he had to get Tilio hitched. Wouldn’t it be perfect if a child of his and a child of hers grew up together? Cousins as close as siblings. She just hadn’t met the right man yet.
“Caspar!” floated to him from their porch. “Get back here now!”
Rolling his eyes. Caspar did exactly that.
THE FOLKS were installed in front of the fire. Cousins Molly and Sara, twin sisters, and their spouses Jason and Frederick – not Fred, mind, had to be Frederick – chatted around the table, helping Adele light candles, while baby Andy gurgled orders from his highchair. Molly’s tot, Adele had hissed in his ear earlier, not Sara’s. Sara was the pregnant one.
Nursing a beer near the giant Christmas tree, Caspar watched everyone, loving every crazy minute. He noticed how Sara’s gaze strayed to his mother, and how sad she was each time she did so. The twins lost their mother six months ago, a car accident that took from his mother her sister also. The three women had hugged it out long on arrival; they hadn’t seen each other since the funeral. Maybe this gathering would help them accept.
He noticed also how Adele made big eyes at him, and tapped her wrist. Right. Where was Tilio? Not like her to be late. Finding his phone, he called her, but it went straight to voicemail. Frowning, he made his way to their parents. “Mom? You spoke to Tilio earlier, right?”
His mother glanced at her wristwatch, one of the few people he knew who still wore one. “She said she’d be here at eight, Caspar. I told you. It’s half seven now.”
Had she told him? Probably, and he hadn’t heard her and therefore hadn’t informed Adele to hold dinner until at least 8:30. Bugger. His wife would chew his ear off when she heard this. Inhaling, he prepared to face that kind of Christmas music, but then, thank heavens, his sister made her entrance, yelling, “Hello, everyone!”
Loaded, too. Caspar almost rubbed his hands gleefully like a little boy. Seemed those giant bags she toted contained substantial presents. Awesome. Her moved in, hugged her, and divested her of her burdens.
“Under the tree?” he suggested.
“You’re agog,” she laughed.
“Totally,” he admitted, dragging her and her load to the tree. “Why were you late? You’re usually first in the door.”
Tilio rolled her eyes. They did that a lot, both, rolling the eyes. “Waiting for Andy’s toy to arrive.” She wiggled her body. “He’s so going to love it.”
“He’s a year and a bit. He loves everything new anyway.”
“Oh, lovely, deflate my sails, will you?”
Together they packed her gifts under the tree, with Caspar noticing his was rather on the small side this year, but highly intrigued despite his disappointment. Nice shiny paper, wasn’t it? “Oh, sis, the camera’s ready. Gonna put it into action at dinner.”
She looked at him with her brown eyes, same shade as his, serious. “Are you sure? I get this shivery feeling every time I think of that thing.”
“Poo. The old man was just pulling your pigtails. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
“First course is ready!” Adele sang out. “Come on now.”
FIFTY MINUTES later, the first toast and Adele’s delicious soup with crispy French bread slices behind them, Caspar fiddled with the box camera on its tripod at the head of the table, telling everyone to give him a minute. Fiddly bloody thing.
Other than Andy chatting away to the room while slapping his highchair’s table with his spoon, no one spoke. Having told them to be ready for the first photo, and that it could happen unexpectedly, everyone had pasted on a smile and now waited for the camera to go into action, facing him. Man, the pic would look so staged, but okay.
“Here goes,” Caspar muttered, standing behind the box, hands on either side of it. “Say Christmas balls!”
That loosened them up and he pressed buttons as everyone, including a laughing Tilio, shouted the words out.
A horrific gargle tore through the house.
Horrified silence was next.
And then Andy started bawling.
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