‘Why not? He’d hardly be drunk in charge of a reindeer after just one beer!’ Bobby said.

‘But it won’t be just one,’ Mitzi pointed out. ‘’Cos he’ll have been to lots of other people first, and drunk what they left, and-’

‘Well, they won’t all have left beer,’ Bobby argued.

‘Will.’

‘Won’t.’

‘Will.’

‘Won’t.’

‘Will.’

‘Won’t.’

Corinne tore her hair. ‘Break it up, you two. Peace on earth, goodwill to all men.’

‘And all women?’ Jimmy suggested.

‘Especially all the women,’ Corinne clowned. ‘They’re so busy cooking for everyone.’

‘I’d do it for you if I had more than one arm.’

‘Yeah, sure you would,’ she jeered.

‘You’re a hard woman.’

They grinned at each other. Alex tried to tell himself that they were like brother and sister, but there was something about the cheerful ease of their relationship, the way they shared the same sense of humour, that troubled him.

‘Anyway, I vote for jam tarts and milk,’ Jimmy insisted.

‘I vote for ginger biscuits and beer,’ Alex said at once. ‘I think Santa gets left a lot of milk, and beer will come as a nice change for him.’

In the end they compromised, which meant that Bobby left out a can of beer and some biscuits, while Mitzi stubbornly left out a carton of milk, jam tarts, and two glasses.

‘Why two?’ Bobby demanded.

‘So that he doesn’t have to drink milk and beer out of the same glass,’ she riposted.

‘He won’t drink the milk at all.’

‘He will.’

‘He won’t.’

‘Will.’

‘Won’t.’

‘That’s enough!’ Corinne roared. ‘Get to bed, both of you.’

They vanished.

‘I think I’ll go up too,’ Jimmy said.

‘You look all in,’ Corinne agreed. ‘Have you had your pills?’

She fussed over him until he’d taken his medication and at last, to Alex’s relief, Jimmy took himself off to bed.

‘That’s it!’ Corinne brushed the hair back from her brow. ‘I’m bushed.’