‘Well, if you have any prosecco that would be lovely,’ Claudette said. ‘I do find it has so much more flavour than champagne.’

‘Champagne would be lovely,’ her husband said, giving his wife a stern frown. Then he smiled at his hosts. ‘As I don’t have to drive, ha ha, that would be very nice.’

‘Oh, of course, champagne, how lovely. It does give me indigestion, but very nice, thank you,’ his wife said.

Avoiding catching Emily’s eye, Jason carefully popped the cork, filled all their glasses, then sat down next to his wife and said, ‘Cheers!’

They all clinked glasses.

‘Cheers!’

It was followed by an awkward moment of silence, broken only by the sound of Maurice Penze-Weedell munching on a beetroot crisp.

‘Such lovely decorations you have outside your house,’ Emily said, struggling to start a conversation.

‘Why, thank you,’ Claudette said in her exaggerated accent. She was wearing a dress sparkling with sequins.

‘What a beautiful dress!’ Emily said.

‘Cost a bloody fortune,’ her husband, in a dark suit and tie, grumbled.

‘Maurice!’ she chided, then looked at the tree. ‘How nice to see a real tree – it smells so – so—’

‘Christmassy,’ her husband helped her out.

‘Exactly!’

There was another awkward moment of silence.

‘You see,’ Claudette went on, ‘Maurice is an accountant, so we have an artificial tree.’

‘Ah, I see,’ said Jason, not seeing at all and trying to ignore the nudge under the table from Emily’s foot.

‘Well, much more practical,’ Emily said. ‘They don’t shed their needles.’

‘And it means you don’t have to buy a new one each year,’ Maurice added, smugly. ‘Christmas is quite expensive enough as it is.’

‘Oh yes, absolutely.’ Emily turned to her husband. ‘Maybe something we should consider for the future.’

‘Oh, absolutely,’ Jason replied. ‘Definitely something we should explore.’

‘I must say, it’s nice to have some neighbours,’ Maurice said. ‘Been a bit lonely these past weeks.’

Claudette leaned forward and took an olive. After chewing it, she removed the stone from her mouth then held it, expectantly, wondering where to put it.

Emily rushed to the kitchen to find a receptacle. Maurice took another crisp. Jason asked, ‘So, are you a Chartered Accountant?’

‘I’m a corporate one.’

‘Ah, right,’ he replied.

Emily dashed back in and placed an empty bowl on the table. Placing her olive stone in it as precisely as if she were moving a chess piece, Claudette said, ‘Maurice has been the Chief Operating Officer of a very large insurance company – very large indeed.’

As she spoke, she glimpsed a woman out in the hall walk past the doorway.

‘Ah,’ Jason said again. ‘Insurance.’ He wondered how long he could endure these people before he could escape upstairs and get on with painting. Although he hadn’t unpacked everything, he had now set up his easel and work materials.

‘Do you have children?’ Claudette asked.

‘No,’ Emily said. ‘Not yet.’

‘Ah. Someone staying here?’

Emily smiled. ‘No, just us.’