It was an old house, full of a kind of shambling charm. The original fireplace was still there, although only a vase of artificial flowers adorned it now, and, out of sight, the chimney was blocked to keep out draughts.

Beside it stood the tree. It was smaller and less impressive than the one in his office, and the fairy on the top looked wonky, as though she were clinging on for dear life. But the parcels around the base were all addressed to people and, when picked up, rattled reassuringly.

Alex stood looking at it and suddenly the inner light shone again, showing him that this was a real tree, with real presents, for real people.

He looked at some of the labels. There were gifts from Corinne to the children and from them to her, gifts from Jimmy to all of them, and from them to him. It occurred to him how often Jimmy’s name appeared.

‘Time for bed, kids,’ Corinne called. ‘There’s lots to do tomorrow.’

‘I want Daddy to put me to bed,’ Mitzi said at once.

‘All right,’ Alex said. To Bobby he added, ‘What do you want?’

‘I put myself to bed,’ the child said gruffly. ‘But you can look in, if you want.’

‘Fine.’

His daughter bounded all over him and rode on his back down the hall to her bedroom, which turned out to be a shrine to horses. Horse pictures adorned the walls; horses leapt all over her duvet cover. Her slippers were shaped like horses and picture books about horses filled her shelves.

Alex spoke without thinking. ‘Now I understand.’

He meant the Marianne doll in the riding habit that she had mentioned to Santa earlier. With his little girl’s eyes on him he remembered, too late, that he was supposed to know nothing.

‘Now I understand what you’ve been doing recently,’ he improvised. ‘We’ll have lots to talk about tomorrow. Goodnight, pet.’

He kissed her and departed hastily before he could make any more slips.