‘You are really into this gig, aren’t you?’ Cordelia said. ‘I like that. I like commitment in a performance.’

‘Well, Cordelia,’ Nick said, ‘life is a performance, you might as well treat it as if every scene might be your last before the final curtain.’

‘Deep, Santa, deep,’ Cordelia approved, not noticing that Santa knew her name even though Sue had never introduced her. This wasn’t particular cause for concern – Cordelia was something of a local celebrity, regularly gigging locally with her band, and everyone who knew Sue, knew about her nanny, Cordelia Thorne, the girl who used the promise of a coming zombie apocalypse as a disciplinary measure.

And yet, Sue didn’t recognise Nick. There was nothing about him, from his bushy white brows, to his shiny black boots, and now slightly soiled trousers, that rang a bell with her. Where had this mild-mannered lunatic of indeterminate age come from?

‘Lapland,’ Nick said as if he were reading her thoughts.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Sue asked him.

‘The grotto – you are trying to recreate Lapland, I suppose?’

‘Oh, well, the grotto is traditionally held in St Piran’s Cave, off the beach, but after the floods this summer, it’s not possible, so we are going to have it here, in my solar. I thought we could frost up all the glass, get the fake snow, fairy lights, fir trees, that sort of thing. I’ve got elves lined up, and I thought we might pop some antlers on Duchess here.

‘I see,’ Nick said. ‘But you won’t need the fake snow, it’s going to snow for real on Christmas Eve.’

‘It rarely snows in Poldore,’ Sue assured him. ‘I always import fake snow.’

‘This year,’ Nick assured her. ‘It will snow. I have it on good authority. The elves’ shipping and sleigh forecast is astonishingly accurate.’

‘Fine, well, let’s park your delusion on one side for a moment, and get on with the matter of your Santa duties.’

‘I would really love to stay and watch this,’ Cordelia said, ‘you have no idea how much, but I’ve agreed to have a drink with a boy.’

‘A drink with a boy?’ Sue asked. ‘I thought you’d sworn off boys until you’d won your first Grammy?’

‘I have, and to be honest after an hour in my company he will be a pathetic shuddering wreck, but you know. A girl has to entertain herself. Sue, if Miracle on 34th Street here starts cranking up the mentalism, call me.’

‘I see you will be on my naughty list again, this year, Cordelia,’ Nick said.

‘You wish,’ Cordelia laughed, as she dragged on her leather jacket. She paused before she left, leaning close to Sue, as Nick played with the dogs. ‘How worried are you that he’s wired up to a bomb under that suit?’

‘I think he is basically harmless,’ Sue said. ‘He just loves Christmas, it’s not a crime.’