Christmas at Elle’s gave them all a chance to unwind for the day. The clubs weren’t open until the evening, and Mathers had even suggested that the men’s club not open at all, because most of their members would be at home with their families. It was a fair point; many of the members worked in the city, and as the big offices and stock exchange were closed, there was no need for them to come into town.

It was business as usual for the casino and the club, although there were no strippers or pole dancers on at the club – it was party night only. A lot of their customers would be a young crowd and it would be a noisy, profitable one. They had spent their dutiful few hours with their families on Christmas day and the evening was their chance to escape.

The next main event would be New Year’s Eve. It seemed everyone felt that Christmas was for the children and New Year was for the adults to have a good old knees-up after putting up with relatives they only ever saw once a year. Tony personally didn’t see the difference; both Christmas and New Year meant people partying in his club and spending their money.

‘What did you end up getting Mathers for Christmas, Elle?’ asked Jake. He knew Tony had wanted to get him something special but he hadn’t heard what it was.

‘Well, that one was a little strange, I grant you,’ said Elle. She paused, waiting for them to look up at her. He’d hinted time and again to Ashley and Sharon, apparently, that he liked the look of those walnut walking sticks that were exclusively made with whatever handle you chose, to make him look more distinguished. ‘Of course, it won’t be ready for another couple of months, yet; as I say, they are all made exclusively for each customer, but he is satisfied with that.’ Elle waited; she knew there would be a few comments about this, as she herself had questioned it.

‘He hasn’t got a limp; why does he need a walking stick?’ Jake was looking around at everyone, amazed.

‘Because, you moron, it’s a status symbol,’ said Sharon. ‘A fancy cane like that confers prestige.’ Sharon began explaining about how British gentlemen of his years often had a walking stick. You didn’t just have one because you had a limp. It was tradition. ‘Anyway, Mathers probably fought in the army and beat them all single-handedly. God knows, he has everybody else under control.’

‘Sounds crazy to me, but if that’s what he wanted, I suppose, it’s up to him.’ Jake pushed his drumstick into his mouth, bit a chunk off and started chewing, ignoring the fact that Sharon was watching him intently.

‘That’s because, Jake Sinclair, you have no bloody class.’ She yanked the drumstick from his hand and put it on the plate. ‘Look at you. Will you take a breath before you take another bite? It looks like you haven’t been fed in years.’ Sharon looked apologetically at the others.