‘Poor Jimmy!’ she exclaimed indignantly. ‘You’re a smug hypocrite, you know that?’

He grinned. ‘It’s what I’m good at.’

She gave a reluctant laugh and accepted his help.

‘I’ll wash,’ he said. ‘I don’t know where to put things. Pinny?’

‘The only one I have,’ she said defiantly, ‘has flowers on it.’

‘I’ll be brave.’

He looked so ridiculous in the flowered apron, with a garish paper hat still on his head, that Corinne’s heart melted. He did a good job too, washing and rinsing properly, and it reminded her of how domesticated he was. He’d always done his share in the old days.

‘What made you pick this house?’ he asked. ‘You could have had something better.’

‘You mean more expensive? I don’t think it comes any better than this. It has a big garden, is full of atmosphere, and the kids love it because it’s a house where they can be untidy.’

Bobby appeared in the doorway.

‘What is it, darling?’ Corinne asked.

‘Nothing.’

‘Did you want something?’

The boy shook his head. His eyes were fixed on Alex.

Suddenly the little kitchen clock gave three clear chimes, and Alex understood.

Three o’clock. The time when he had originally meant to leave. Bobby was watching him intently.

‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

It was a pleasure to see the smile that came over Bobby’s face, but in the very same moment Alex’s cellphone rang in the hall. Without a word, Bobby went and fetched it, handing it to his father, his face a careful blank.

The screen was showing Mark Dunsford’s number, and for a moment Alex hesitated, tempted to shut it off without answering. But he didn’t.

‘Mark,’ he said in his most discouraging voice.

‘Simply checking to see if you need me,’ came his assistant’s tinny voice.

‘For pity’s sake, it’s Christmas Day!’

‘I just thought you’d like to know that I’m on the ball.’

Alex ground his teeth. ‘Go and eat some Christmas cake, Mark, and don’t call me back unless it’s a real crisis.’

He hung up. Bobby’s eyes were shining, but all he said was, ‘Are you coming back soon, Dad? We haven’t used up all the crackers.’

‘I’ll be there in a moment, son. Put this back for me, will you?’

He handed him the cellphone and Bobby disappeared.

‘I’m glad you got rid of that man,’ Corinne said. ‘I don’t like him.’

‘Have you met Mark? Oh, yes, he came to the house once.’

‘Horrible man.’

‘I suppose he reminds you of me,’ Alex said wryly.

‘Not really. You were always full of fire and enthusiasm. It lit you up inside, and it was exciting. I remember once you got out of bed at one in the morning to work out some brilliant idea. Your eyes were shining and your voice had an edge, as though you’d seen a vision. I never knew what you were going to do next. But Mark Dunsford is a robot. He never had an original thought in his life, and he’s trying to make his name by standing on your shoulders. You should watch out for him.’

The same thought had occasionally occurred to him. Now he marvelled at the shrewdness that had shown Corinne so much in one brief meeting.

‘That must be the first time you’ve said anything good about me and the business,’ he observed.

‘I grew to hate it because it always came first-before me, before the kids.’

‘You never understood how driven I felt.’

‘You’re wrong. I saw you being driven all the time. At first, like I say, it was exciting, but later I saw what it did to you. I used to dream that there’d come a time when you could ease up, but of course there never did, and it went on and on, getting worse and worse.’

He gave a mirthless grunt of laughter.

‘Funny! I thought of it as getting better and better, because I could provide for you properly. A nice house, holidays-’

‘Half of which we ended up taking alone,’ she reminded him. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’

‘But can’t you-?’

She stopped him hurriedly. ‘Alex, it’s all right. It’s finished. It doesn’t matter any more. Let’s leave it.’

The washing-up was done. Alex looked up at the sprig of mistletoe that Jimmy had fixed overhead.

‘Do I get a Christmas kiss?’ he asked, speaking lightly to take the sting out of the refusal he expected.

‘Of course,’ she said.

Moving quickly, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. He had a brief sensation of her sweetness, the faint tang of the perfume he’d bought her, the warmth of her breath against his face. Then she was gone before he could catch her.

At the end of the day the last cracker had been cracked, the last silly joke read out, the last paper hat reduced to a crumpled wreck. Jimmy opted for an early night. Mitzi, already asleep, was carried to bed, and Bobby went without protest.

‘I’m going up now,’ Corinne said to Alex, who was drying a cup in the kitchen.

‘I’ll stay down for a little,’ he said. ‘There’s a late film I want to see.’

‘Goodnight, then.’

‘Goodnight.’

He kissed her cheek and she put her arms gently around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. He held her close, swaying back and forth a little in a gentle rhythm.

‘It’s been a lovely day,’ she whispered.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Thank you for everything, Corinne. Thank you for making it possible, and not driving me away.’

‘I could never want to do that,’ she said, raising her head and looking into his face.

It was once more the face she loved, not distorted by anger or masked against her as it had been in the worst days of their failing marriage. For a moment she saw again the vulnerability that had always been there beneath the arrogance, and which had touched her heart.

It touched her now and she turned away quickly.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘Nothing.’

He brushed his fingertips across her eyelashes and found them wet.

‘Sometimes I feel like doing that,’ he said. A tremor went through him. ‘I miss you so much.’

‘I miss you too. The love doesn’t just switch off.’

‘Even though you’re trying to make it?’ he asked.

‘I’m working on it. I don’t pretend it’s easy.’

He kissed the top of her head.

‘Goodnight,’ he whispered.

She went upstairs and he was left alone.

Midnight. The clock in the kitchen chimed. The room was in darkness except for the tree lights that still glowed and flickered.

Santa smiled at the figure in the doorway. ‘Have you come to say goodbye?’

‘I wasn’t sure if you’d be here,’ Bobby said. ‘You’re supposed to have gone back to the North Pole by now.’

‘That’s one of the advantages of being the boss. You can change the rules to suit yourself. I thought I’d pop back to see how it was going.’

‘It’s been brilliant.’ Bobby sighed happily. ‘He’s still here. He liked the picture and everything. He even remembered what it was.’

‘Did you think he wouldn’t? Yes, well, I suppose you couldn’t be blamed for thinking that.’ Santa’s voice was gentle as he added, ‘Let’s face it, he’s not much of a father.’

‘Yes, he is,’ Bobby said instantly. ‘He’s the best.’

‘Doesn’t spend as much time with you as he should, though, does he?’

‘He’s very busy. He has lots of other things to think of. But he always comes back to us, because he loves us best in all the world.’

For a moment Santa seemed lost for words. At last he said, ‘I know he does.’

‘Did he tell you?’

‘I just know. He loves his family so much that it hurts, but he’s not good at saying things.’

‘And we love him best in all the world too,’ Bobby said firmly. ‘I do, and Mitzi does, and Mum does.’

‘Well, I don’t know-’

‘She does. I know she does.’

There was a silence before Santa said, ‘Never mind that. Tell me about Mitzi. Did she have a good day?’

‘Oh, yes. Dad gave her that Marianne doll with the riding habit-the one she asked you about the other day. You must have told him.’

Santa grinned. ‘Let’s just say that I can give him a nudge in the right direction. That’s not always easy, because he’s a stubborn fellow who doesn’t listen as often as he ought.’ Seeing Bobby about to flare up, he added quickly, ‘Now, be fair; you know that’s true.’

‘Sometimes,’ Bobby conceded.

‘Always,’ Santa insisted.

‘Now and then.’

‘All right, I’ll settle for now and then. You’re quite a negotiator.’

Bobby giggled. ‘That’s what Daddy says. He says he wants me working for him when I grow up.’

‘I thought you wanted to be an artist?’

‘Couldn’t I be both?’

‘You could. But it’s better to be what you really want. Your way might be better.’

‘Will you be back again, after tonight?’

‘I don’t know,’ Santa said. ‘Christmas is passing.’

‘But it’s not gone yet. Tomorrow’s still sort of Christmas. Dad won’t leave tomorrow, will he?’

‘No, he won’t. And if you have him, you don’t need me.’

‘It’s different. I can talk to you.’

‘And not to him?’

‘Not about everything. He minds too much, you see, and I don’t want to hurt him.’

Santa spoke gruffly. ‘How do you know he minds so much?’

‘Because he tries so hard to pretend that he doesn’t,’ Bobby said simply.

Santa turned away. ‘Goodnight,’ he said huskily. ‘Go to bed now. Wait for what tomorrow may bring.’

Bobby moved towards the door. As he reached the hall he paused a moment, wondering if he really had heard a noise. But all was dark and quiet. After a moment he sped upstairs.

Alone by the tree, Santa did not move but stood with his head bent, as though trying to bear up under a heavy load.

‘Are you all right?’

He turned quickly. Corinne was standing there.

‘Of course I am.’ He added feebly, ‘Ho-ho-ho!’

‘You seemed a bit tired.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s a great responsibility being Father Christmas. It’s scary.’