Amuse bouche... Christmas treats

The Donohues had been stockpiling since early November. As soon as Jimmy saw the Tunnock’s Teacakes in the supermarket, that was it, they were off. Jimmy got the box of Tunnock’s, obviously. Sure you could get the teacakes all year round, but the box was the Christmas green light for the Donohues.

Aimee was in second year in school now, and she’d learned about Pavlov’s dog. She said that Tunnock’s had a Pavlovian effect on the family.

This nugget made her brothers and parents think of pavlova, which was their favourite Christmas-dinner dessert.

The boys tried to convince their mother, Carmel, to make one immediately, but she said that there would be no pavlova in the Donohue house before December 25.

Which is not to say that Carmel and Jimmy held so firm on other confectionery. The rest of the year, Carmel was strict as could be on the sugar. She did the odd bit of baking — because that way, you know what’s gone in — but there had been no junk box in their house for years.

After she read that sugar is the devil, Carmel got rid of that repository of jellies, chocolate and biscuits. Aimee and the boys had hit their teens by that stage, and with Aimee so into her looks and her selfies, and the boys sports-mad, they were like a one-family sugar police. Except at Christmas. Once the box of Tunnock’s hit the house, it was like opening the Donohue dam. Everyone had their certain something. This year, Aimee had surpassed herself and had stripped two boxes of Celebrations down to just Mars bars by December 1.

Carmel found it hard to believe, but the recycling bin suggested that the boys had worked their way through three big boxes of Tayto already. They said the bags were smaller in the Christmas box, but Carmel wasn’t buying it.

Jimmy had his Tunnock’s with a cup of tea — a ratio of three Tunnock’s to one cup of tea — and Carmel, well, with Carmel, it would always be the Quality Street.

She hoped to God Jimmy had bought some more and hidden them somewhere good for Christmas Day, because the good ones were nearly all gone out of the three that Carmel had got on a deal in October and concealed from herself until a week ago. Carmel was doing the Sunday ironing while having a few Quality Street with a coffee. She was telling herself that standing up and ironing was burning off some calories. It was only 10 days into actual December, though, and the jeans were a bit tight on her already.

Carmel would be digging out her skirt with the elasticated waist for Christmas Day, or there’d be no pavlova for her.