Checked Luggage: Patrick Holloway writes the Irish Examiner's Christmas short story

"Christmas songs sour the room. Neighbours walk past their house in groups of hats and scarves. Kids skip. He wonders if his dad is in a coffin yet."

‘To Dad, the fucker that he was.’ ‘To Dad,’ David whispers, feeling that familiar swollen knot at his throat. The beer has to fight its way down.

David hears knocking and for a lovely second it is part of his dream, and then it is gone and he is awake. He sits up, looking at his mother half in, half out of the room.

‘I left you for as long as I could, come on down, people will be arriving soon.’