Lifesaving for Beginners

help Dad carry the tree inside. There are pine needles all over the floor by the time they’re finished. The top of the tree is bent against the ceiling. I don’t think Dad notices the bent bit at the top because he just says, ‘Now that’s a tree, eh son?’ He looks at me and punches my arm but he’s smiling so I know he’s only messing.
    When Faith comes downstairs, she has make-up on her face. She looks like everything is back to normal. She’s even wearing the black dress that Rob bought her last Christmas. She’s wearing tights and boots and she looks like she might go out later, which would be good for her because she hasn’t been out in ages.
    After lunch, Dad says, ‘I’m going to skedaddle.’
    Faith says, ‘Drive carefully.’
    Dad doesn’t make a joke, the way he normally tries to. He nods and says, ‘I will. I’ll ring you when I get there, OK?’ He holds out his arms and this time Faith walks right into them and he hugs her really tightly and she says something, but I can’t hear what it is because of the way her face is squashed against Dad’s shirt.
    Dad bends down when he’s talking to me. I’ve grown five centimetres since he last saw me but he still bends down. ‘You be good for your sister, son.’
    I nod.
    He puts his hand on top of my head. ‘I’ll ring you on Friday, OK?’
    I nod again.
    He opens the car door but instead of getting in, he turns around to me. ‘Look, Milo, you know I won’t be able to come down this year. For Christmas, I mean. Because of Celia. Having the baby. You get that, don’t you?’ I nod a couple of times. I do get it. I really do.
    Faith says, ‘Go on, Dad. It’ll be getting dark soon.’
    He gets into the car and turns the key in the ignition. I knock on the window and point to the seatbelt and he nods and pulls the seatbelt round him. He says that haggis is the reason his stomach looks like Celia’s. Haggis is the lining of a sheep’s stomach and people in Scotland eat it, but I don’t know why. Dad says it’s because it tastes nice but that couldn’t be true.
    He rolls down the window and looks at Faith. He starts to say something and Faith says, ‘Don’t worry, Dad. It’s fine. We’ll be fine.’
    He shakes his head, like it’s not fine. ‘When we brought you home, Beth worried that she wouldn’t know what to do with you. That she wouldn’t do a good job.’
    Faith says, ‘Tell Celia we said hello, won’t you?’
    ‘She was wrong. She did know what to do. She did a great job.’
    ‘Roll up that window. You’ll catch your death.’
    ‘She loved you, Faith. It never mattered to her. She loved you just the same.’
    Faith nods a tight nod, like her neck is stiff or something. Dad blows a kiss at Faith and salutes me as if I’m a soldier or something, and then he drives down the road, turns left and is gone.
    Faith walks inside the house, up the stairs and into her bedroom. When I go up later with a cup of coffee, she’s in her pyjamas, in bed, with her headphones on.
    I say, ‘Are you tired?’
    ‘Sort of.’
    ‘You should go out. Get some fresh air into your lungs. It would do you good.’
    ‘You sound like Mam.’
    I say, ‘Well, somebody has to.’
    That makes Faith laugh but not for very long.
    I go downstairs to make a sandwich. The sitting room is dark now, on account of the Christmas tree. It’s so big, it blocks out most of the light. Dad and me were supposed to put on the decorations before he left. Normal trees look fine without decorations but Christmas trees look kind of sad. Bare.
    It takes me a lot longer than I thought it would. Mam and me usually argue about what to put at the top of the tree. She liked the red star I made from a Weetabix box when I was a little kid. She always liked the stuff I made at school, even if it was a bit ripped or not coloured in properly.
    I like the angel. We’ve had her for years. Mam bought her the first Christmas after Faith was born. Well, after Faith came to live with Mam and Dad, I suppose. Dad said she was eighteen months when she came to stay. That’s still a baby, but I think you can probably walk a bit and you can talk but it’s mostly gibberish so no one knows what you’re saying. The angel has black hair and green eyes, which is why Mam bought her, because she said she looked like Faith. I like her because there’s a button under her dress you can press to make her light up.
    Usually me and Mam can never agree. The star. Or the angel. Usually we end