‘Right, I must go,’ Sue said. ‘I’m having a meeting with the Three Kings – there’s the same uproar over who gets the best crown every year. I must say, I am disappointed that Blake Fletcher didn’t keep his word to turn up. I don’t know why I am surprised. Celebrities aren’t famous for being on time, are they? He just seemed so certain about it, pretending to be all nice and a man of the people.’

‘Well—’ Tamsyn patted the back of her hand ‘—you’ve got it all sorted now. You didn’t need him. You are super, Sue, the woman who can do it all alone, not that you have to any more. We, your minions, are at your disposal.’

Sue was smiling brightly as she marched briskly out of the church hall and into the crisp December afternoon. She waited until she was in the alleyway that ran behind the church before she burst into tears.

6

‘You’re still wearing your costume,’ Sue said as she opened one half of Castle House’s huge oak doors to find Nick stand there, beard glistening in the moonlight, the bell on the end of his hat still faintly jingling after his climb up the front steps. Luckily she had invited him over after the children were firmly ensconced in their turret, otherwise they would have gone into a full on pre-Christmas meltdown.

‘Of course,’ Nick chuckled. ‘What else would I wear?’

‘Right, well, come in,’ Sue stood to one side and let him in to the long wood-panelled hallway that ran though the heart of her home. Normally by now, it would have been garlanded with holly, and mistletoe, but this year she’d seemed unable to find the effort to bother past putting up a tree, which the children had mostly decorated.

‘Good evening, sir.’ Nick nodded to a suit of armour that stood to his left. ‘Just hanging around? Ho, ho. Oh dear, I won’t tell the reindeer,’ he muttered as he passed a series of ancient and flea-bitten deer heads.

Sue supposed they were rather grotesque, but having grown up with them she’d stopped noticing them a long time ago, except when it came to dusting, which, as she couldn’t afford a cleaner, she did once a year only.

‘Bear left and eventually you will reach the kitchen,’ she told him, as he bumbled along, almost rolling down the corridor, as if his great girth threw him off balance with every step.

‘Bloody hell!’ Cordeila said, as she turned round with a glass of wine and found Santa in the kitchen, having scooped Wash the pug up into his arms and gamely shaking off the attentions of the other dogs, one of whom had formed a swift and deep meaningful relationship with his leg.

Oh dear, Sue worried, I do hope that velvet is machine washable.