School was over. All Gab’s peers were abuzz with their plans for the next year, but Gab mostly avoided those conversations and tried not to think about it too much. She spent her days reading, working at the supermarket, traipsing around the farm and potting up seedlings to plant out with Tony.
And so, Christmas and New Year came and went without much fuss. Tony had Gina, Gab and Jack around for Christmas lunch and didn’t let Gab cook a thing, even though she offered again and again in the lead up. Tony was handy in the kitchen, and in the end, Gab relished the opportunity to sit back and relax while he filled the table with almost more food than it could bear, and certainly more than they could eat in one sitting. She did manage to help with the washing up afterwards, however.
Around the Christmas table, they pulled on crackers and put on paper crowns—even Gina—and they laughed at stupid Christmas jokes and concocted better ones. Tony gave Jack a new bike for Christmas, which was a massive surprise for them all. To Gina, he gave a department store gift card, imagining she could buy some new bedding or crockery for the granny flat. And to Gab, he gave a voucher for year-long subscription to Regenerative Farming magazine.
And what did Tony receive? Well, with her supermarket income, Gab had been saving up for a metal-junk sculpture of a cow for Tony, which also functioned as a new mailbox. It was made by Jim Stafford, Tony’s old school mate. Tony was delighted and beamed with pleasure. Gina gave him a couple of pairs of socks (which he did genuinely need) and Jack gave him another sculpture, home-made, of small timber offcuts glued and hammered together. Christmas lunch at Tony’s was one happy family memory that Gab did hold, even if Gina could never afford to give her anything much. Gina reasoned to herself that Gab had her own money, so she wasn’t really missing out.
I’ve got my work money, Gab told herself, in a strange parallel to Gina’s reasoning, so it’s no big deal that Mum doesn’t give me much. And she really believed it.
Christmas lunch formalities (informal as they were) usually ended when Brian, Jack’s dad, came up and honked his car horn, indicating that it was time for Jack to grab his things and go to his dad’s for the night. This was great for Jack—it was Christmas round two, and his dad always gave great presents, although he was so delighted with the bike that he could barely imagine more. For a seven-year-old kid, that was saying something.
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Jack said bye to Tony, Gina and Gab, and ran out with his bag to his dad’s ute, only to come pelting back in again, out of breath.
“Hey Gab, this is for you from Dad! See ya!” And Jack practically threw a small package and a card at Gab, so eager was he to be off on his next Christmas adventure.
“Hey, thanks!” said Gab. “Say thanks to your dad for me, Jack!” she yelled after him.
“I will!” came the voice, trailing off as the car door slammed shut.
Gab looked down at the parcel in her hands. She opened the card.
Dear Gab,
Congratulations on finishing school. Merry Christmas and happy 18th for January 5th too.
This is to say thanks for looking after Jack.
From, Brian.
Awww, thought Gab, but didn’t say it aloud. It felt more good to be recognised.
“What’s that?” asked Gina suspiciously. “What did Brian give you?”
“Nothing Mum, just a Christmas card,” said Gab, hiding the card and gift under the table.
“Oh!” said Gina to Tony, “looks like Gab’s getting gifts from Brian now. What about me? Can’t remember the last time he gave me a gift!”
“Give her a break, Jeen,” said Tony, taking a swig of beer. But Gina’s misplaced indignation couldn’t take away from the pleasure Gab felt when she surreptitiously opened the package and found a fine gold necklace, with a round pendant stamped ‘G’. She quickly tucked it back into its box and slipped it into her pocket.
Gab, Gina and Tony spent the rest of the afternoon chatting, snoozing, drinking (Gina and Tony) and reading (Gab).
As Gab went to bed that night, she concluded that it had been a pretty good Christmas.