Jason followed the direction of her hand, as did both their neighbours. She was pointing at a walnut display cabinet. Behind its glass windows were several Capodimonte figurines: a pair of dancers in Regency costumes, a cobbler in a vest mending a pair of shoes and a tramp in a floppy hat seated on a bench with a bottle in his hand. On a separate shelf, as if in pride of place, was a porcelain donkey wearing a straw sombrero, and with a quartz clock set in its belly.

‘Capodimonte!’ Claudette exclaimed. ‘Maurice and I collect it, you know,’ she said proudly.

‘So very tasteful,’ Emily said, with sarcasm so thinly veiled Jason wanted to kick her. She’d clearly drunk too much.

‘So glad you like them!’

‘I particularly love the donkey,’ she went on.

‘Do you know, Maurice and I were watching Antiques Roadshow recently, and there was one, almost identical to that, which was valued at twenty thousand pounds. Can you believe it?’

‘My love,’ her husband corrected her. ‘It was a Victorian racehorse, not a donkey, that was valued so highly.’

‘So? Your point is?’ she rounded on him.

‘They are somewhat different pieces.’

‘My point is, my love, that our donkey is in the same style, exactly.’

‘Perhaps,’ Maurice said, dubiously. ‘But I think if you consult any antiques guide, you will find that quartz clocks had not been invented in the Victorian era.’

‘Where did you get such a lovely piece?’ Emily asked.

‘You won’t believe it!’ Claudette said, proudly. ‘We bought it in a charity shop in Brighton. Quite a find, wouldn’t you say!’

‘Oh yes,’ Emily replied. ‘Quite a find. Clever you!’

‘Tell Maurice! I paid ten pounds for it and he chided me for wasting money. Can you believe it? It was one of my fiftieth birthday presents to myself.’

‘No,’ Emily said. ‘I can’t believe it.’

‘Your fiftieth birthday?’ Jason said, disguising his cynicism well. The woman looked closer to sixty. ‘No way are you fifty!’

‘Hard to believe, isn’t it?’ Claudette said. ‘Maurice tells me I don’t look a day over thirty-five.’

‘You don’t!’ Jason said.

‘I’ll be fifty-five next birthday,’ Maurice boasted.

He looked closer to seventy, Jason thought. ‘I’d never have believed it!’

‘Everything in moderation!’ Maurice said. ‘That’s the secret!’

Two more refills later, Jason and Emily finally made their escape, walking tipsily across the road.

They said nothing to each other until they were back in their house and safely out of earshot.

67

Wednesday 26 December

‘I don’t believe it – do you?’ Emily said, and giggled.

‘Believe what? The shit wine?’

‘It was shit.’

She shook her head, heading into the kitchen. ‘God, I need a drink of something decent.’ She opened the fridge door and took out a bottle that was still a quarter full from last night. She poured the contents into two glasses, handed one to Jason and sat down.

Then she broke into a broad smirk.

‘What?’ Jason asked.

‘The donkey!’