“Are you spending Christmas with the Ugherts? Ah, of course, now I know who it is who has your concentration. Your fantasy goes by the name of Geraldine if I'm not mistaken and provides more creature comforts than I can possibly do. I doubt you will be absorbed by much else, will you?”
In days past his acerbic remark would have got under my skin, so much so that it wouldn't have taken much more for me to punch him until he was unconscious. As that would have led to an inquiry in the New Year where I would at least be reprimanded, I chose propriety over reprisal, but tinged with enough indictments of blame to bruise.
“No, my mind was far from Christmas, Mr Harwood. I was lost inside the grandeur of this office of yours. Must be right up your street worshipping the paintings of past grande
