‘Jimmy?’

‘Jimmy is spending Christmas with us-or he was before he was knocked down by some maniac driver.’

‘I did not knock him down,’ Alex said through gritted teeth. ‘He fell.’

‘Whatever. He chose the costume, and it’s a good one.’

Alex had to admit that it was the best. The beard was soft and silky, gleaming white, with a huge moustache that flowed down into the beard itself. When it was fixed in place it covered his mouth almost completely.

But there was something else.

‘A wig?’ he protested.

‘Of course. How can you be convincing with a white beard and brown hair?’

‘Won’t my hair be covered by a hood?’

‘Even with a hood they’d notice. Children notice everything these days. They see wonderful special effects on films and television, and when they get close up to reality they expect it to be just as convincing.’

He grumbled some more, but when the wig was on he had to admit that it looked impressive. Long, thick and flowing, it streamed down over his shoulders, mingling with the beard, which was also long and flowing.

He looked nothing like himself, and that was some consolation, he reflected. At least nobody would be able to identify him.

He was beginning to get into the part now, driven by the instinct that governed his life-to be the best at whatever he undertook.

If you weren’t the best there was no point in doing it. Right?

In some respects he had the physique, being over six foot. But there was one flaw.

‘I’m too thin,’ he objected. ‘This suit was made for someone a lot bigger.’

‘There’s some padding,’ Corinne said, diving back into the bag.

With the padding in place he had a satisfactory paunch.

‘Will I do?’ he demanded.

‘Your cheeks need to be rosier.’

‘Get off! What are you doing?’

‘Just a little red to make you convincing.’

‘I won’t even ask what you’ve just put on my face.’ He groaned. ‘I don’t want to know.’