Casey kicked open the door because she didn't have a free hand and then hollered "Can someone please help me before we end up eating the turkey off the door mat?"

Edwin appeared in the flash. "Did someone say turkey?" he asked hopefully. Casey gave him the stink eye.

"It's not cooked yet Ed, so hands off before you get salmonella, listeria or a bloodied nose." She promised with an awkward shuffle. "If you give me a hand with this lot I have English mince pies in the trunk of my car."
"Gee I've missed you sis!" Edwin said, relieving her of an armful of Tupperware.

"You saw me last weekend, Edwin."

Edwin smirked. "Yeah but you weren't bringing food then."

Casey turned back her arms now empty, to make her way carefully down the icy path to her car. She shook her head as she went. What was it about the Venturis and their stomachs?

This time it was Marti who met her at the front door.

"Any more?" She asked, relieving Casey of the current armful. Casey nodded.

"Another two trips I think." She said and disappeared back down the path. Marti chuckled and turned to make her way into the kitchen.

Much later, when the food was tucked safely into the large fridge and Robbie, George and Edwin were under strict instructions not to touch, the adult members of the house were relaxing lazily in the living room, ten year old Robbie dispatched off to bed under pains of no Christmas gifts if he stirred before eight the next morning.

George furnished them all with drinks, even Marti who he was reluctant to admit was allowed to partake.

"Shall we make our usual toast?" he said, grimacing slightly.

Casey's happy demeanour disappeared.

"You mean get it out of the way before it spoils our Christmas!" She said, bitterly.

"That's unfair, Casey!" Nora objected. "He was George's son!"

"He is George's son. You don't stop being a son just because you die. It's just everything about Derek these days is a routine. You visit his grave on his anniversary. You raise a toast to him at Christmas. None of that I would actually have a problem with if you talked about him the rest of the time. But you don't. It's as though you are scared of tears. Don't you do feelings George?"

"Maybe George does but he doesn't make a song and dance about them." Nora said quietly.

"I'm not making a song and dance about my feelings. I'm making a song and dance about Derek. He would hate to be your hair shirt, George, you know that? He loved being the centre of attention. He would want us to remember Derekus. He would want us to think about that year he didn't buy any presents and we all got gifts wrapped up from around the house. He would want to be a proper part of our celebrations, not the bit that we all dread. Not the bit we need a glass of wine to get through."
And no one said anything because they all knew Casey's words were true.

In an effort to be supportive, Marti put down her drink and dashed off to her room, returning with a large scrapbook from the very first year that they became a blended family, and Edwin found a DVD of a Derek hockey match.

And when the family had exhausted both, Lizzie re-told the tale of Derek teaching her to play ice hockey and Casey reminisced about exams he had cheated on and girls who had joined them at family meals. There might have been a bit of cheating going on there too.

And when bed time came it was Casey who stood with the glass in her hand.

"To Derek, without whom we all would have had an easier life, but one which none of us would have enjoyed half as much."

Marti, who noticed the air of relief in the room since the forbidden subject had been brought out into the open, had raised her glass like the rest of them…

…despite the extra knowledge that she possessed.

When she got to her room, Marti found that she wasn't tired and her thoughts were full of "Smerek". Casey's home truths about the way they treated Derek these days had made her love her sister even more…it also made her realise that Casey was going to be badly hurt when/if the truth of Derek's "death" were ever revealed.

Marti opened her laptop and connected to the family's wireless internet. Then she logged into Facebook and started to write.

"It's Casey's turn to cook Christmas Dinner this year. Frankly, we all wish she'd do it every year. She turned up earlier with a trunk full of Christmas fare that would have your mouth watering including an enormous turkey, cakes and homemade sweets! Seriously, you'd think she was a stay-at-home mom rather than a busy ER doctor.

She turned up with an "opinion" too. Dad went to give his usual "Derek eulogy" and Casey cut him off. She said that you shouldn't be relegated to an awkward two minute speech that everyone needs a drink to get through [I'm paraphrasing, but not by much]. She insisted that we talk about you as though you'd popped out to visit Sam or are upstairs asleep. She's determined that you should remain part of this family, Derek. I'm very proud of her.

And that's why I'm contacting you again. Casey has become very important to me; more even than just as a big sister. She is my confidante because she alone understands the loss I felt when you left us. I go to her about guys and stuff…She means the world to me the same way you do. I'm telling you this because I really don't want her hurt… not even by you - especially by you.

Casey is not a figure of fun, bro. She should not be the recipient of your pranks anymore. She's grown, and she's been hurt. What she needs is love and respect, not a dose of what you threw her way when you were teenagers. You know that this is a game, she doesn't. Please don't make me choose between you – because I won't see her get hurt.

Anyway, Merry Christmas! I miss you so much. I know you read my messages, and I know that you can't reply. I will be thinking about you tomorrow, wherever you are. I know what your job is and I hope, if you are working, that you take care. I worry that if something happens to you at work, we'll never be told. I would hate that. It would kill Casey – because she would think you had just walked away again.

I love you Smerek.

I hope that Santa brings you everything you desire.

Smarti

XXXX"

A short time later:

"Smarti,

You can ask me to stop breathing – although officially I don't do that anymore.

You can ask me to stop eating – believe me even Edwin's cooking sounds great right about now. The alternative is my own.

You can ask me to stop turning my head every time a hot chick walks past.

And you can even ask me to slow down when I'm driving my car.

I can do all of that.

What you can't stop me doing is pranking Casey.

I am physically incapable of it…

…however, you have nothing to worry about.

This maybe a lot of things: stupid, irresponsible, doomed?

But it isn't a prank.

And if you ever think it is, believe me, the joke is firmly on me.

Go give your sister the same warning, because there the danger really lies.

As regards informing the next of kin…my boss has your address and instructions…

Smerek

X

P.S. Merry Christmas to you too honey. I love you X"

"Evening Jerk." Casey typed a short while later the same evening.

"Evening wench." Mikey replied.

"I suppose I have you to thank for the free samples of the incontinence underwear?" Casey typed.

"Did they fit?"
"Alas no. However, as there was about a year's supply I passed them to the local Community clinic seeing as they are always short of money and supplies. I sent them the dietary aids from last week too. Perhaps I should just give you their address and you can send the stuff direct."
"Now where's the fun in that?" Derek replied laughing.

Casey rolled her eyes. "Derek was a bad influence on you."

"Hey! You can't put this on Derek! It's you…you're just so prank-worthy."
"I'm so glad you spelled that correctly." Casey retorted. Derek's eyes widened.

Marti was right…Casey had grown up!

"Meaning?" Derek asked in mock innocence.

Casey blushed and although he couldn't seen her do that, the pause while she tried to find a way to respond to his request made it abundantly clear that deep down she was still the same old innocent he knew and…cared about.

"So! What are you doing for Christmas?" Casey opted for changing the subject. Derek laughed.

"Exactly the same thing I told you yesterday. My plans haven't changed." He said.

"What? Oh…yes…Sorry I forgot. It's hectic here. You know, trying to keep Edwin, Robbie and George away from the Christmas dinner so it's still there when I come to cook it."

"What are you having?"
"Turkey, potatoes, stuffing and so on. Mom didn't fancy goose this year. She read somewhere that it was really high in fat and she's on a diet so turkey it is."

"Sounds nice. Think of me when you are tucking in. I'll be enjoying microwave mac and cheese washed down with a beer." Derek wasn't lying.

"Do you really not have any family?" Casey queried.

"Still fishing, Casey?" He smiled to himself.

"I just…you shouldn't have to spend Christmas alone." She commented.

"Not everyone has a fantastic family like the Venturi-McDonalds."

"Venturis." Casey corrected. "Mom's stopped using her name completely and if you ask Lizzie or me what the family name is these days we tend to say Venturi. Although legally I still go by McDonald."

"Wow!" Derek said, surprised. "That's nice. Derek would have been amused, touched even."

Casey snorted. "Ha! Derek was touched, period. And it was more out of practicality than sentiment." She lied. "McDonald-Venturi was a mouthful."

"I always said McDonald-Venturi was hard to swallow." Derek wasn't talking about the double-barrelling of their names.

"You'll be in the office then?" Casey said.

"Skeleton crew." Derek confirmed, marvelling again at the truly appropriate nature of that description. "I'll be sharing the office space with all the other sad losers who don't have invitations to spend Christmas with a hot chick who can cook."

"Did you get your packet?" Casey asked nervously.

Derek took a deep breath. He had received an email yesterday saying that there was a package awaiting him at the central postal depot. He hadn't been sure what to make of that seeing as there was nothing he was expecting. He had almost sent Spike to collect it, worried that it was something adversarial.

But then Casey had made a veiled comment about unexpected gifts and instead of sharing with his mentor, Derek in the person of Mikey, had visited the depot. He had come away with a large box, wrapped in Christmas paper, labelled in Casey's writing: "Do not open until 25th December."

"Yeah. I got it."
"Did you open it?"

"You said not to." He answered.

"Oh…good."

"Is it something good, or is it something I should just pass straight to goodwill?"
"Well I was having a clear out of my junk room at the time that I put the box together." She lied easily.

"Really? That good huh?" Derek sounded less than enthusiastic.

"You really won't know until you open it, will you?" Casey replied.

"Any suspect white powders or semtex?" He asked.

"No." Casey's answer was short and to the point.

"I'll open it in the morning." Derek said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Casey typed.

"What shall we argue about tonight?" Derek asked. "We're overdue a good fight."

At 12.01am, Derek Venturi sat on his bed in his apartment with the large, Christmas-wrapped box in front of him. Technically, it was the 25th December, but only just. He supposed that this wasn't what Casey had meant when she said to wait until Christmas Day. But it had been seven years since he had opened a Christmas present from anyone in his family. He couldn't wait.

The wrapping paper was typically Casey: tasteful, good-quality and carefully put together. He almost wanted to take a picture of the wrapped present because the sight of it sitting before him on the bed was as good as unwrapping it. But he didn't.

Instead, he pulled the parcel close to him, found a corner and slid a finger between the folded paper and tape.

The old Derek would have ripped into the paper, discarding it gleefully in his hurry to inspect the contents. New Derek enjoyed the fact that the parcel was even there; the contents were secondary. It was a reminder of home; a reminder of the family he missed; a reminder of an annoying step-sister whose arguments he had endured in his teens, but which he now enjoyed as fond memories – hating how they were fading with time.

At least now they were making new memories, even if they were merely text on a screen.

When he lifted the lid from the box, he could see it was stuffed with items and on the top was a letter.

I told my family that I had a friend who would be alone this Christmas and they helped me put this together – it was Marti's idea – one of her less outlandish ones.

I hope you don't feel patronised by this present – it was sent with love. They thought long and hard about everything that went into it. My presents are at the bottom.

Merry Christmas Mikey.

You may be solitary this Christmas, but you aren't alone.

Love Casey

XXXX

The presents were layered in the box, each of them wrapped in a different shade of tissue paper.

George had sent a Leafs' shirt. It was vintage in an "I've been worn" way, but Derek recognised it as one he had bought his father many years before, and it meant the world to him.

Nora sent packs of socks and underwear, as only a mom could.

Lizzie sent a desk tidy made of recycled cardboard. It was designed to look like a toilet roll inner although it was made from nothing of the sort. Derek chuckled as he realised his other step-sister had hardly changed at all. (Memories of dioramas springing to mind easily.)

Edwin sent money…which though Casey had frowned upon, Marti had persuaded her to let it go. It couldn't have been more appropriate.

Robbie had sent popcorn strings for "Mikey's" tree; long strands of popcorn laced together which gave the present box a real Christmas smell.

And then there was Marti's gift – a wrapped parcel which he somehow knew Casey hadn't seen before it was encased in paper. Derek's fingers were shaking as he dislodged the tissue paper to reveal a small black photograph album. The album was filled with pictures of the family Derek had left behind; photographs covering seven years.

There were photographs of all the family, of their new homes, new cars. There were photographs of Sam, tall and proud at his wedding to Ruth, Casey standing as joint Best Person next to Ralph. And there was Ralph, proudly showing off outside the entrance to his new bar. There were pictures of Ruth with her rotund belly enclosed in Sam's arms and then Amelia Casey comfortable in her parents' arms.

But most of all there was Casey: At her graduations, photographs of her in her scrubs, photographs of her with Amelia, with Ralph, with Marti and their family, and most recently a photograph of an older Casey sitting on a swing. She was smiling and looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her, but that wasn't what caught his eye.

There was sadness in her face that belied the smile and made him want to make her laugh – to cheer her up. He also noticed she was wearing one of his old t-shirts.

Casey's own gifts were small but carefully thought out. There was a small box of homemade chocolate which smelled delicious and might not make it to the following day. There was a brand new t-shirt in the colours he used to wear with an amusing caption across the chest. And, surprisingly because she wasn't religious, (or actually not surprisingly because she was Casey after all), there was a tiny silver medal of St Michael the Archangel. This confused him until he found a small card which informed him that St Michael was the patron saint of police officers because he was loyal and trustworthy, fighting the criminal and protecting heaven and earth from the wrong-doer. Derek rolled his eyes, but slipped the small disc into his wallet all the same.

Finally Casey too had enclosed a picture, but this time it was in a frame. It was recent and appeared to be a candid shot of a casually-dressed Casey sitting at her laptop. She looked fantastic and something about the picture made him suspect it had been taken just for him. Her pose was the way he imagined her whilst she was bantering with him. Except, his memories of her hadn't done her justice – either that or she had grown more beautiful in the missing years. A part of Derek was relieved that they weren't living under the same roof anymore. He didn't think his libido would cope with close proximity.

But he liked the picture…even more so because most of the sparkle was back in her eyes.

The space around the Christmas tree was looking chaotic. Instead of neatly wrapped presents stacked beneath the baubles, there was a mass of torn paper, and knotted ribbon. Casey groaned and realising no one else was going to do it, she stood and made her way into the kitchen for a sack to collect the paper.

"Make sure you put it out for recycling!" Lizzie shouted.

Casey smiled as she returned. "Would I ever do anything else?"

"I remember you tipping it over Derek's head once." Robbie said from across the room where he was examining a new construction set.

"You remember that?" Casey asked surprised because Robbie had been three when Derek died.

Robbie nodded. "I remembered because you made a mess and I had never seen you do that before. It scared me."

Edwin sniggered and started to make a comment. Casey put up her hand.

"You aren't Derek, Edwin…don't even think it."

The rest of the family laughed and Nora, remembering that there was a large mess under the tree which they had all contributed got down onto the floor to help clear the balls of paper.

As soon as she put her hand under the tree she stopped.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "We missed one!"

Edwin sat forward. "A present?" he sounded excited and disgusted at the same time: excitement that there was still one gift to be opened, disgusted that he had failed in his "Chief-Present-Disher" duties. "Whose it for?"

"Casey. Oh! It's the parcel that came earlier in the week."

"Parcel?" Casey asked surprised taking the package from her mother's hands. "Who'd send me…?" Her voice trailed away as she realised exactly who.

It was a gold necklace with her initials, "CMD". The letters scrolled and entwined each other and all the women in the room cooed. Not even the fact that you shouldn't include the "D" of McDonald in her initials diminished Casey's pleasure at the gift.

"Wow!" She said. "It's beautiful."

"Who's it from?" Lizzie and Nora chorused.

"Mikey." Casey blushed again. "My friend who is all alone."

Edwin snorted. "Some how I get the feeling he might not be that alone for much longer."
Casey elbowed him. "It's not like that. I don't even know what the guy looks like."

Nora looked concerned. "Who is he, Casey? What do you know about him? I mean he could be in his forties or fifties."

"What's wrong with that?" George protested.

"Nothing…for someone my age." Nora said. "But, for Casey…?"

"Honestly, Mom. He's a friend of Derek's. I met him once…I think. That night was a bit hazy."

"Well you be careful. You shouldn't really have given him our address."

"I didn't." Casey said, confused. "I guess one of Derek's other friends must have given it to him."
"Casey, he might not even know Derek. He could be using generalities to lure you in."

"Come into my parlour said the spider to the fly." Edwin said in a stupid voice that earned him a dirty look from Nora.

"I think it's okay Nora." Marti said quietly. "I remember Derek talking about Mikey. He's harmless."

"Well…I just think…"

"Mom! I'll be careful, okay?"

Nora nodded.

Casey reached up to put the necklace on, but part of the shine was gone.

"CMD." Marti "said" to Derek later that night. "Nice. Of course I know that you know Casey's initials are CM not CMD. From an angle it looks like the M is binding the C and the D together – but then I guess you know that too."

"No comment."

AN: My late grandfather always sat up until one minute past 12 to open his presents at Christmas. He also had a good feel of all the parcels to see if he could guess! (Even when he was elderly!)

He died three years ago and would have been 91 next month.