‘Did you paint this?’ Santa asked in a strange voice.

Bobby nodded. His eyes were on Santa’s face.

‘I think you should definitely give it to him,’ Santa said at last.

‘You think he’ll understand?’

‘You put a lot of work into it, and he’ll think it’s wonderful that you took so much trouble to please him.’

‘But will he understand?’ Bobby asked with a touch of desperation.

‘Yes,’ Santa said decisively. ‘He will.’

‘Everything?’

Santa put his hand on the child’s shoulder. ‘He’ll understand everything that you want him to understand,’ he said. ‘I promise you.’

A smile of pure, blinding relief broke over Bobby’s face.

‘You’d better go and wrap it now,’ Santa said. ‘I have a lot of other houses to visit.’

‘Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’

At the door Bobby paused and looked back. ‘I didn’t used to believe in you. But I do now.’

He vanished quickly.

The brilliant sunlight flashed and glinted off the water and bathed the river-bank with warmth. The man and the woman picnicking under the trees leaned back in the welcome shade and smiled at each other with secret knowledge.

‘That was good,’ he said. ‘The best I ever tasted. Happy birthday, darling.’

She didn’t answer in words, but she blew him a kiss. Her arms were curled around the two-year-old girl sleeping in her arms, but her eyes, full of love, were on the man.

‘It’s not much of a birthday for you, though,’ he mused, ‘having to do the catering for a picnic.’

‘You helped.’

‘Did I? Oh, you mean when I dropped the butter?’

They laughed together.

‘Wouldn’t you rather have had a big night out?’ he asked. ‘Fancy restaurant, champagne, everything of the best?’