‘Sorry, where are my manners?’ Blake grinned at her. ‘Follow me, into what you Brits call the living room, and we can sit on the settee.’ He pronounced the words with an English accent that he seemed to find deeply satisfying. Conscious of her mud-caked dog-walking boots as she sloshed through the deep-pile carpet, and perched on the edge of a cream leather sofa, which she somehow knew was designed by Chanel, Sue focused on the beautiful Christmas tree that Blake had standing in the enormous glass window. It had to be at least fifteen feet tall, and was perfectly symmetrical, covered in golden glowing fairy lights and nothing else. Very tasteful, Sue thought. Very House and Garden magazine. What would he make of her own hectically decorated tree, she wondered, strewn as it was with ancient tinsel and ornaments her children had made out of toilet roll tubes and badly dyed strings of popcorn.

‘Can I fix you a drink?’ Blake asked her politely. Sue noticed that his feet were bare, his toes lost in the deep pile and realised that she was going to blush. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, standing up rather abruptly. ‘I’m sorry, I came out here on a whim and now I’m here it all seems rather ludicrous. I think I should go.’

‘Not without telling me why you came.’ Blake gestured for her to sit again.

‘Well.’ Sue fiddled with her frayed watchstrap. ‘I need a new Santa.’

‘And you thought my silver locks would fit the bill?’ Blake laughed, running his hands through his short silver and black hair.

‘No, God no, of course you could never play Santa, you’re far too young and handsome and with that washboard stomach … Anyway, I have to find a replacement Santa tomorrow, and then train them, fit them for the costume, get them into the role – you know, understanding his motivation, where he is coming from, very much the Stanislavski school.’

‘Sure, sure.’ Blake nodded.

‘I just thought maybe if you have hour or … two … or four,’ she hurried on, ‘you could come and audition them with me. If word got round that you were choosing the new Santa then turnout would be a lot better and thus widen my chances of filling the role with the right candidate. And it does so need to be the right person, the children know, you know, if it isn’t right. And it’s so important, isn’t it? It’s so important that we keep the magic of Christmas alive for them.’ Sue caught herself before the emotion in her voice turned into a sob, trying not to think of her own children.