“Du-du-du-daaaaaa!” Mum flung open the front door, her red-and-white dressing gown that said ‘Mrs Christmas’ on the back billowing behind her. She’d sewn lights into the sleeves – did she know they were flashing orange? She looked like a road sign. “Whaddya think?”

Dad stepped out in a matching Mr Christmas dressing gown and light-up Christmas pudding slippers, clutching a very confused Sosig, who was wearing a fluffy owl dog-hoodie. Of course. How traditional. Two Christmas roadworks and their trusty dog-owl. My poor traumatized Pomsky gave me a look of pure despair. Sorry, Sosig – if I had any idea how to rein Mum and Dad in there wouldn’t be a mechanical snowman yelling “happy holidays” to a confused food delivery driver next door.

I counted down … forty-nine days till Christmas decorations could come down. Forty-nine days to do whatever it took to stop anyone discovering that Father Christmas had sneezed all over my house. And lawn. Oh yep … Cara too. Who knew you could get a red nose and antlers for a camper van?

“The whole thing’s epic,” Grace said, taking a photo of Sosig, who had tilted his head, his tongue lolloping down past his chin. Honestly, how many dogs know how to work their angles?

“It’s a health hazard,” I grumbled to myself, almost tripping over a herd of miniature reindeer. They were at the end of the path to our little garden gate and Mum was happily explaining that once December started, we’d move them one step nearer every day until Christmas day until they reached our chimney. Inside our house. Which made falling over when trying to watch TV a guaranteed activity.

But I could hear a car coming down the little high street, so ran inside before the headlights picked me up. Oof, my heart sank – inside was no better, every single surface was covered in Christmas. Or glitter. Or both. I hurdled a row of mini snowmen just to get to the stairs.

Dad closed the front door and whipped out his face mask. “Masks on, guys. Don’t want anyone catching tinselitis.” He laughed so much he didn’t notice my groan. At least Grace looked happy and Grampy G would definitely approve. “Isn’t it mesmerizing?” Dad stared lovingly at a dancing Christmas pudding doorstop. “Now, seeing as it’s a Grolly evening tonight” – that’s what he called “Grace and Molly time”. He nudged my elbow. “Girls together. We love to see it!” I needed to get him off the internet. Immediately. “And seeing as we’re celebrating.” We were? “We thought we could have pizza. Samuel’s fave, if I’m not mistaken?” He waggled his eyebrows at Mr W.

Suspicious. This all seemed worryingly normal. And what celebration?

“Piiiiiiiiizza?!” A blur of long brown hair and fluffy horse onesie bump-slid down the stairs right on to my feet. If my little sister Billy wasn’t riding a horse, near a horse, watching videos about a horse, then she was dressed like one. It had been just me and Tess until I was ten, but then along came Billy. My parents were good at surprises. “I love pizza!!!!” She threw her hands around my waist. I patted her head. She neighed. Yup, my family was totally normal.

“Great. Christmas pizza it is.” Dad rubbed his hands together. “Brussels, carrots in cardis” – it’s what he called veggie pigs in blankets – “potatoes, the works. Oooh, does cranberry sauce go with cheese…?”

Why was nothing about my life ever normal? I looked up at the big gold disc on the wall.

I swear that stupid song was when it had all gone wrong. How could three mins twenty-two seconds cause so much havoc?

“Someone say pizza?” My big sister Tess leant over the banister at the top of the stairs. Why was she home from uni? Probably making sure Mum and Dad didn’t give her room to me. Or maybe it was to enjoy my despair at the Christmasification of the house. She loved laughing at my pain. “Oh, hi, Grace!” She caught me looking at the gold disc. “You’re not still going on about that, are you?”

I wasn’t sure one small sigh to myself counted as “going on”, but it was impossible to argue with my sister.

“Oh, hi, Tess. I’m fine, thanks – thank you for asking.” I walked up the stairs. “And before you check, I’m completely and utterly totally OK with the very tasteful and subtle Christmas decorations that are literally …” I noticed the hallway lampshade which had been replaced by a giant bauble. “… everywhere.” My house looked like a photo of “You Won’t Believe What One Family Do For Christmas”.

“Great, isn’t it?” With a smug smirk, Tess threw a piece of tinsel round her neck like a scarf. “Oh, and you officially have to be nice to me.” She stood firmly in my way. “I’m currently heartbroken.”

“Is that right?” She mainly looked delighted at how miserable I was about living in The Grotto, Grotto Street, United Grottoland.

“It is right. Eva split up with me.” Oh, that was actually bad news. They’d been together all term, a record for my sister. “So I’m going to have to throw myself into being single and ready to mingle.” She shook a Christmas squirrel ornament with a tiny bell on it. “…and jingle.” She cackled in a way that made me feel deeply uncomfortable – like when Naked Attraction came on when we were watching TV with Mum and Dad.

“Is that why you’re back?” I squeezed past her and headed into my and Billy’s room. Thank goodness. Not a decoration in sight. I collapsed on to my bed with relief.

Tess leant in the doorway. “Nah, Mum and Dad asked. Said it was urgent…”

“Worrying,” I said. Tess nodded. The calamity of being in this family was something we both agreed on. Annoying as my big sister was, it was good having another human in the world to experience being the offspring of my parents with. Billy didn’t count, as she would rather be the offspring of a horse. But Billy was calling Tess, and Grace popped her head in to ask me to plug in her phone while she grabbed some drinks.

I fumbled under my bed for my charger, but my hand found something else. The one Christmas thing I’d kept – the card Grampy G had sent me last year. He’d been so ill but had been determined to write them for everyone – Grace and I had hand delivered the lot.

I shuffled back on to my pillow and opened it up.

To the marvellous Molly-Moo

Just seeing his shaky handwriting felt like a punch. I hadn’t had any grandparents growing up and Grampy G used to say he’d filled in the paperwork to make me a grandaughter-in-friend-in-law.

oh oh oh!*

Have the merriest of Christmases, and may all of your new years be merry and bright.

I could say it word for word without even looking at the card.

Keep shining, Mol. You’re a Christmas star, and the best gift you could ever give me is a promise to make sure Grace always celebrates Christmas with the magic it deserves. You too.

It really is the most wonderful time of the year.

All my love,

GG xx

PS Don’t forget to send Gracey pics of Sosig in his outfits!!!

*That’s what Santa Claus says when he walks backwards.

Ouch. My eyes prickled. I stuffed it away. Grace didn’t need to see me upset – that wouldn’t bring Christmas cheer, and that’s exactly what I’d promised Grampy G I’d do. And I really did want to bring Grace some cheer. So if her dad was cancelling Christmas, what else could I do? I plugged her phone in and I noticed she’d updated her wallpaper – a picture of her, Grampy G and Mr W. All big smiles, all wearing paper crowns, at the Holly Hospice Christmas party; the staff pulling party poppers around them. An idea pinged into my head. And by the time Grace came back with the drinks, it had escalated into something way bigger.

“Grace. You know you said this is the first year you’re not having your Christmas party? Well …” Was I going to regret this? Probably. If it wasn’t such a sure-fire way to give Grace’s Christmas a boost, there was no way I’d even suggest it. “… what if we could celebrate Grampy G and raise money for Holly Hospice?” And maybe even help her dad find some of the Christmas joy he used to have so much of?

Grace bent forward and put her head on her knee, like it was totally normal to bend like a pretzel.

“Go on…”

“Well … if your dad doesn’t want to throw your Christmas party. How about … we do? In Grampy G’s honour?” Grace tilted her head. “Just something little for our families, Simon, whoever.” Only people that I could trust to be seen out in public with my parents. “We could have music, maybe a secret Santa, and things to raise money? Like an auction? Or a bake sale…” Yes, I was seeing it already. I could design a totalizer, and Grace could run the show while I helped out behind the scenes. “Oooooh, and you could do your Nutcracker dance?” The one she’d had to pull out of last December that her dad had never got to see. “Imagine. We might finally hit that five-hundred-pound target?”

But I didn’t need to say anything else. Because Grace had jumped on to the bed. Well, more specifically, on to me.

“Molly, you’re a genius! BEST. IDEA. EVERRRR!!” She gave me a massive cuddle, Grampy G style. “We’ll totally hit our target! And Grampy G would LOVE it.” She bounced off the bed and walked to the window. “The first ever … Grampy G’s Grotto…” She was grinning as she looked out. “We’ve even got the decorations already. AND WE CAN ASK SIMON TO HAVE IT AT HIS FAMILY’S RESTAURANT!” Grace did hear me say “little”, right? But she’d collapsed back on the floor and was fanning herself. “Sorry, too many good ideas all at once.”

She messaged Simon immediately and then started recording an audio note of a steady stream of ideas. Sosigshaped gingerbread! Pin the tinsel on the Christmas tree! Hook a Christmas turkey!

And I loved it. I hadn’t seen her this happy in ages. And it was the first time I’d seen her look forward to Christmas all year. Yup. This was going to be fine. Wasn’t it?

Grace suddenly sat up.

“We can tell everyone at dinner!” She rubbed her hands together.

“Sure. I can start working on the invites tomorrow…” I could already see how I wanted it to look. A cute minimal Christmas house, the Holly Hospice logo strung across in lights. Ooh, and we could use that picture of Grampy G when he dressed up as Santa and climbed on Grace’s roof.

Grace’s phone lit up. And when she saw who’d messaged, so did she. It had to be Simon.

“Is it a yes?”

“How did you know?” She tried and failed to stop smiling. “He said he’d ask his parents. And I’m sorry, but seriously…” She closed her eyes and pretended to dribble as she turned the screen to face me. He’d sent a changing room selfie of him trying on a posh suit, along with “approve For date night ”.

“How am I meant to reply to that?” Erm, I wasn’t exactly the best person to give her dating advice, since I’d been on a sum total of … none. And had kissed a sum total of … no people. “’Spose there’s only one way…” She dug out the photo of us pulling stupid faces on the walk home and sent it off.