Grunting with the effort, I lifted the heavy suitcase out of the back of the taxi and waved at the driver (standing to the side, not helping with any of the bags). He nodded at me and walked forward to slam down the boot, hopping back into the front seat and quickly peeling out of the driveway.          ‘Charming,’ I muttered to myself. I leant down and grabbed the handle of the suitcase, dragging it to where my wife was standing in front of the door, tapping her foot impatiently.          ‘Hurry up,’ she said, almost jumping up and down. ‘It’s…

                              I skidded to a stop at the top of the staircase, leaning over the balustrade to hurl abuse at my idiotic brother.          ‘What the hell is wrong with you?!’ I screeched, immediately aware that I was the picture of a stereotypical teenager and way too annoyed to care. ‘Stay out of my room!’          Okay, that one was pretty cliched.          ‘I wasn’t in your room!’ he called back up to me, with a stupid little smirk. For a moment – multiple moments – I considered vaulting the banister and violently wiping the look…