A few minutes later, Samantha was looking quite respectable once more although Josh could not help noticing that, along with her school sweatshirt, she had not bothered to put back on her panties or training bra and her perky young nipples were very visibly pressing against the inside of her polo-shirt.

“Hope your tights don’t chaff too much!” he chuckled, picking up her underwear and shoving it into his coat pocket before hanging her sweatshirt over his arm.

“Well if I do get sore, maybe you can help me rub some cream on later?” she teased with a coquettish giggle. In that moment, Josh remembered his wife’s words from that morning which he had taken as a joke at the time but now he wondered if the two women in his life had been having a conversation he was not privy to. After all, it occurred to him, it did not seem unreasonable that his little girl might want to tick off as many life experiences as she could before giving up the rest of her life to provide her family and friends with a delicious meal. She had certainly been more forward with her affection recently, kissing him far more like a lover than a daughter. Of course he knew he would have to clear everything with Laura first to make sure that she was on the same page but, if Samantha really wanted some adult fun before her big day, could they really deny her?

Choosing not to respond to her comment for the moment, Josh opted instead just to chuckle and shake his head in amusement as he followed her out into the corridor. The main hall itself was not difficult to find but Josh was pleased to see a hostess trolley parked around the corner. That would make it far easier to transport their lovely roast turkey and the rest of the food from the kitchen to the hall.

“Just finishing up.” Mr Jenkins informed them with a slight wave as they entered the hall. He was brushing a small pile of dust, crumbs and other debris into a long-handled dustpan ready to be disposed of. “Take a look around.” The pair did as he said. The hall was much as they had expected with a wooden floor made up from small strips arranged in a saw-tooth pattern, the main doors which led to the lobby at one end and a small stage at the other with a faded velvet curtain blocking it from view and wooden steps leading up to archways on either side. The walls were plastered and painted the typical pale magnolia used in all “neutral” spaces and as well as the door which led to the toilets and kitchen there was another about half way down which was stood slightly ajar. Peeping inside, Samantha saw that it seemed to be a cleaning supply cupboard. On the wall which adjoined the corridor, there were high windows and on the outside wall the windows came down to about four feet from the ground with vents that could be opened at the top and slatted curtains for privacy, should it be required.

“That’s where you’ll find the broom and mop if you need it.” Mr Jenkins explained, approaching them from behind, wanting to put his broom and dustpan away. Samantha stepped aside to let him past and he opened the door wide. “Bin bags are in there too.” He explained, patting a stack of heavy-duty, folded bags on a shelf. “Black for normal rubbish, green for bones and other food waste.” Samantha felt the butterflies of excitement in her belly knowing that he was talking about her remains. “There’s two big bins out the back round the corner, they get emptied once a week and the leftovers taken for recycling.” he explained. “Whatever you don’t want to take home, pop in a green bag and leave in there and it will get used for animal feed, fertiliser and biofuel, that sort of thing.” Samantha slipped her hand into her dad’s and squeezed it.

They followed the gruff caretaker up onto the stage where the trestle tables and chairs were stacked.

“There’s a sound system here,” he showed them a rather antiquated box on the wall, “but you’re probably better off bringing your own. There was also a large TV that could be lowered down in front of the curtains. “You can play videos on it,” he told them, “but people often like to put photos up. There’s a USB slot in the side.” Samantha nodded, taking it all in.

“Can we put Christmas decorations up?” she asked as they came down the steps at the side of the stage and headed back towards the door they had come in through.

“Oh sure, whatever you like.” he nodded. “Just don’t leave marks on the walls and make sure you take down anything you put up. There will be a Christmas tree in the lobby and another one in the corner of the hall, we ask that you don’t fiddle with those, but otherwise it’s your own space to do what you like with.”

In the car on the way home, Samantha sat looking through the photographs on Josh’s camera, admiring how she looked in turkey pose and feeling quite proud of her delicious young body. Some ideas were forming in her young adolescent mind but her dad had been nervous enough about the ones they had taken already so she thought better of sharing them with him, resolving instead to discuss them with her mum when they had some time alone.

Instead, as they made their way home, they discussed the tables and how to lay them out as well as what other activities they might put on for the guests to pass the time while dinner was cooking and to fill the rest of the day afterwards. One thing Samantha was adamant about was that she did not want to start cooking until everyone had arrived as she wanted the opportunity to greet everyone who was going to be feasting on her and to show off her meat to them.

When they got home, Laura was looking excited, having some news she wanted to be the one to impart to her daughter and hoping that the surprise had not got spoilt during the day. As she came through the door, eager to tell her mum all about the hall and show her the pictures they had taken, Samantha was curious to see her mum hugging her tablet, a grin on her face like an excited toddler.

“What have you got there?” the pre-teen asked, tilting her head curiously. “Is it a draft of the invitations or something? We got some awesome pictures to go on them!” Rather than answer, Laura handed here the tablet and watched, biting her lip with excitement as her daughter looked with curiosity at what was on the screen. It seemed to be the BBC’s new trailer announcing their line-up of movies and TV specials that would be shown over Christmas and New Year. Wondering what would possibly justify her mum’s reaction, Samantha took the tablet from her and tapped the “Play” icon.

It seemed a fairly typical line-up – a new “Wallace & Gromit”, a feature-length episode of a sitcom that had really ended years ago but kept limping along with seasonal specials, a few movies that had been blockbusters at the cinema but had been available to stream for nearly a year already, a “Doctor Who” two-parter to be shown on Christmas Day and New Year’s Day and… Her eyes went wide as she came to what he mum had been so excited to show her. On Christmas Eve, at 6pm, they would be showing a brand new animated adaption of “Rosie the Christmas Turkey”, the story that had started this whole journey for her, voiced by an all-star cast of well-known British actors.

“I get to see it before I roast!” Samantha explained gleefully then, remembering what they had been shown at the hall, she turned to her dad. “We have to find a way to show this on that big TV!” she insisted. “Maybe after the meal so people can relax and let their dinner go down?”

“That’s sounds like a splendid idea!” Laura beamed, taking the tablet back and closing the bookmarked page. “Now, I think you had some nice pictures to show me?”

To be continued...