… she sprays her wrist and sniffs, then ‘Aaahhhs’… “Oh, it’s lovely! I only ever buy this as a real treat for myself.”
…a small bottle of the personalised fragrance I had designed for her…
How the hell did James manage that?
Michael unrolls the slip of paper. “Who is Santa’s favourite rock-star?”
“I don’t know,” says James, in a voice as dry as a desert. “Who is Santa’s favourite rock-star?”
Michael flourishes his hand. “Elf-ish Presley!”
The required groan ripples around the table.
I turn to Charlotte. “Will you pull a cracker with me?”
She flushes almost as deeply as Elizabeth, but now there is a sparkle in her eye. “I’d love to, Richard.”
A tug, a crack and a bottle of my own favourite after-shave, one I know that Elizabeth likes, tumbles onto the table.
“James, how did you kn
