‘I learned them from my dad.’

‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ Alex said at once. ‘I’m not taking the blame for your devious mind.’

Bobby grinned.

They each had three cream buns and two cups of cocoa, and Alex thought he’d never tasted anything so delicious. Then they went home to confess to Corinne. But she wasn’t fazed.

‘Fine. It’ll save me cooking a big lunch. Uncle Jimmy’s here, kids.’

Overjoyed, they dashed into the next room where Jimmy, swathed in plaster, was reclining on the sofa. Alex followed and was in time to see them climbing up beside him, moving carefully, not to hurt him.

Mitzi was on his uninjured side and put her arms about him. ‘Poor Uncle Jimmy,’ she said. ‘Is it very bad?’

‘Not really,’ he said cheerfully.

‘What did you do?’

‘Fell in the road,’ he said at once. ‘Silly me.’

Alex regarded him with mixed feelings. It was decent of Jimmy not to have blamed him. On the other hand he couldn’t like him, especially as Mitzi was greeting him with real affection. Bobby was less effusive, but he was on Jimmy’s injured side.

‘Tea up!’ Corinne called, entering with a cup.

She handed it gently to Jimmy, who smiled, receiving it, while Mitzi solicitously plumped up his cushions.

A shiver went through Alex. It was absurd, of course, but for a moment they had looked like a family.

The stockings and socks were in place, hanging from the mantelpiece. Jimmy, clowning, had produced one full of holes, which had reduced the children to fits of laughter.

‘Right now, you two,’ Corinne said. ‘Bed.’

‘Mummy, we haven’t left things for Santa,’ Mitzi urged. ‘In case he gets hungry and thirsty.’

‘What do you want to leave, pet?’

‘Jam tarts and milk,’ Mitzi said at once.

‘Ginger biscuits,’ Bobby said. ‘And some beer.’

‘You can’t leave beer,’ Mitzi said, scandalised.