She took them to the end of the little queue, said something to them and walked away.

Alex was glad that he’d bothered to dress up properly when he heard one child mutter, just audibly, ‘He looks like a real Santa, Mummy.’

At last his own two children stood before him, Mitzi keeping back a little. It was weeks since he’d seen her, and he’d forgotten how fast children grew. Her hair, which had been short, was now long enough to wear in bunches which stood out from her head, giving her the appearance of a cheeky elf. He couldn’t help grinning at the picture she presented.

But right now she was solemn and seemed unwilling to come forward.

‘Go on,’ Bobby urged her.

But she shook her head.

‘She’s a bit shy,’ Bobby confided to Santa.

‘But I’m-’ He checked himself, and amended the words to, ‘But I’m Santa Claus. Nobody is shy of me.’

He waited for one of them to say, Daddy! But neither of them did.

Of course, he thought. They were pretending not to know, enjoying the joke.

He leaned down to Mitzi. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me what you want for Christmas?’ Big mistake. Mitzi was surveying him, wide-eyed with astonishment.

‘But I already told you. I put it in my letter. Didn’t you get it?’

‘Of course I did,’ he improvised hastily.

Over her head his frantic eyes met Bobby’s. The boy mouthed ‘Marianne doll set.’

Since he’d never heard of this, Alex had to signal bafflement with his eyebrows. Bobby mouthed it again, more emphatically, and this time Alex understood. ‘Ah, now I remember. You want a Marianne doll set,’ he echoed, and saw his daughter’s eyes light up.

‘The one in the riding habit,’ his son mouthed at him.

‘The one in the riding habit,’ Alex repeated.

Mitzi’s beaming smile told him he’d got it right.

‘But is that all?’ he asked. ‘Isn’t there anything else you’ve thought of since?’

Mitzi hesitated until her brother nudged her gently and whispered, ‘Go on.’

Emboldened, the little girl reached up to say, ‘And can I have a necklace?’

‘Of course you can,’ Alex said.

Suddenly the little girl hugged him. He tensed, thinking of the beard that might be dislodged. But it held, and he became aware of her arms, holding him without restraint.

She had hugged him before, but not like that. Now he knew what he had always sensed in her embraces. It had been caution. And it wasn’t there now.

Before he had time to take in the implications, she had released him and moved aside, making room for her brother, who came in close.

But before addressing Santa he wagged a finger at his sister.

‘Don’t wander off,’ he told her severely.

She stuck out her tongue.

‘Does she give you much trouble?’ Alex asked with a grin.

‘She’s OK most of the time,’ Bobby said seriously. ‘But sometimes she won’t do as I say ’cos I’m not very much older than her.’

It was a three-year difference, but a sudden inspiration made Alex say, ‘About five years?’

Bobby looked pleased. ‘Not quite as much as that,’ he admitted. ‘But almost. And it’s a great responsibility being the man of the family.’

‘The man of-? Don’t you have a father?’

Bobby made a face. ‘Sort of.’

Alex felt an uneasy stillness settle over him.

‘What do you mean, sort of?’

‘Well, I don’t really know him very well,’ Bobby said. ‘He’s not around much.’

‘I expect he’s busy,’ Alex said.

‘Oh, yes, he’s always very busy. Too busy for us. He and Mummy aren’t together any more.’

‘Do you know why that is?’ Alex asked carefully.

Bobby gave a shrug.

‘They were always rowing, and Mummy cried a lot.’

A strange feeling went through Alex. Corinne had never let him see her cry. Not for a long time.

‘Did she tell you why she cried?’ he asked.

Bobby shook his head.

‘She doesn’t know I’ve seen her and I have to pretend not to, because she doesn’t like anyone to know.’

‘So you don’t know why?’

Bobby shook his head.

‘Perhaps she misses your dad?’ Alex ventured.

‘I don’t think so. He’s nasty to her.’

‘How?’ Alex asked, a touch more sharply than he’d meant to.

‘I don’t know, but when they talk on the phone she cries after she’s hung up. But he doesn’t mean to be nasty,’ Bobby added quickly. ‘He just doesn’t know how people feel about things.’

Alex hesitated for a while before saying, ‘So maybe it’s better that they’re not together?’

‘Oh, no,’ Bobby said, shaking his head vigorously. ‘He’s coming home for Christmas and it’s going to be brilliant-that is-if he really comes.’

‘Has he said he will?’

‘Yes, but-’ Bobby’s shrug was more eloquent than a thousand words.

Alex could not speak. There were too many thoughts swirling around in his head, and they were all of the kind he found hard to cope with. The best he could manage was to put his arm around Bobby’s shoulders and squeeze.

‘You think he’ll back out?’ he asked at last.

‘I keep telling myself he’ll be there,’ Bobby said. ‘It isn’t for long. Just Christmas Eve until Christmas Day. He could spare us that, couldn’t he?’

‘I should think he could spare you more than that,’ Alex managed to say in a voice that he hoped didn’t shake too much.

‘Could you fix it?’ Bobby asked.

‘You want me to arrange for him to stick around for longer than that?’

‘Oh, no,’ Bobby disclaimed quickly, as though saying that nobody should ask for the impossible. ‘Just make sure he’s there for when he said he’d be.’

‘All right. It’s a promise.’

Bobby searched his face anxiously. ‘You really mean it?’

‘You think I can’t do it?’

Bobby shook his head, his eyes fixed on Santa with a look in them that was almost fierce.

‘You can do anything,’ he said, ‘if you really want to.’

The air seemed to be singing in Alex’s ears. He wondered if he’d imagined the emphasis in the last words.

‘Then I promise,’ he said.

‘Honestly? Dad will be here until Christmas Day, and he won’t leave early?’

Alex was swept by a mood of recklessness. ‘I can do better than that,’ he said. ‘He’ll arrive early, and he’ll stay longer than Christmas Day.’

He waited for the effusion of joy. It did not come. If anything, the fierce scrutiny on the child’s face intensified.

‘Really and truly?’ he asked. ‘Cut your throat and hope to die?’

‘Of course. When I give my word, I keep it.’

‘That’s what he says,’ insisted Bobby. And suddenly it was a child’s voice again, forlorn and almost on the edge of tears.

Alex put his hands on both Bobby’s shoulders.

‘He will be there tonight,’ he said. ‘You have my solemn promise. Word of a Santa!’

Bobby nodded, as though satisfied.

‘Now,’ Alex said, ‘tell me what you want for Christmas.’

‘But I just did,’ Bobby said.

‘That’s it? Nothing else?’

‘That’s the thing that matters. And you said I could have it. You promised.’

‘Yes, I did. So you just go on home and see what happens.’

Bobby smiled, and for the first time it was the happy, natural smile of a child. It made Alex feel as though he had been punched in the stomach.

‘All right, you two?’ It was Corinne, appearing suddenly. ‘Move along. Father Christmas still has customers.’

Another three children had joined the little queue, and Bobby and Mitzi moved off to join their mother.

‘How’s Uncle Jimmy?’ Bobby asked. ‘Can he come home?’

‘We might get him home tomorrow. We’ll have to wait and see. Come on, let’s be off home. Goodbye, Santa.’

‘Goodbye, Santa,’ they chorused.

Alex raised a hand in a gesture of farewell and turned back to his next ‘customer’ with reluctance.

He wasn’t sure how he got through the next few minutes. His mind followed Corinne and the children out of the hospital and into her car, watching them talking, wondering what they were saying.

At last it was over and he was free to go. To his relief, Mrs Bradon joined him in the kitchen just as he finished changing. He would not have thought it possible that he could have been glad to see her.

‘What about the costume?’ he asked.

‘Just take it with you. Corinne will know what to do with it.’

He packed up the costume into its bag and tossed it into the back of his car. On the journey, he wondered how much Corinne would have told the children after they left.

When he reached the house he intended to go straight in. Instead, he found himself sitting in the silent car, trying to psyche himself into taking the next step.

It should be his great moment. He would burst through the front door, keeping Santa’s promise and enjoying the look on his children’s faces.

Without warning, his courage failed. He didn’t know why. His son had spoken like a child who loved his father and looked forward to seeing him. Yet he had said, ‘It isn’t for long, just Christmas Eve until Christmas Day. He could spare us that, couldn’t he?’

Something about those words haunted Alex painfully.

He could spare us that, couldn’t he?

Was that how Bobby saw his father? Doling out his time in small, begrudged amounts?

He did not want to go inside the house.

Cowardice. The weakness he had always despised most.

With sudden decision, he got out of the car. In the porch he hunted for the key that Corinne had left out for him, hearing sounds inside the house. There was her voice.

‘Bobby, what are you doing in the hall?’

‘Nothing, Mummy.’

‘Come and have an iced bun.’ That was Mitzi, a little more distant, sounding as if her mouth was full.

‘In a minute,’ Bobby replied. His voice still came from the hall.

Then Corinne’s voice.

‘Darling, why are you watching the front door?’