Chapter 41

“Crackers!” Michael holds up his; red and green crepe paper wrapped with silver foil. He leans across
the table, arm outstretched, flashing eyebrows. “Pull a cracker with me, Mitch.”

James picks up his from the side of his plate, sounding piqued. “They're nothing like the one we had
last year, I'm afraid.”

Michael shrugs, unperturbed. “So there was no time to arrange your fancy hand-made affairs. They're
just the first packet I could grab off the supermarket shelves. It's anyone's guess what's inside. It
doesn’t matter. It’s Christmas. That’s what it’s about.”

“Oh, stop fussing, James.” Mitch makes a grab for the cracker. “So long as they have a paper hat
inside and a bad joke, they'll be fine.” She tugs, and with a Snap! the cracker splits and multi-coloured
shrapnel confetti’s out.

With a grin, she unrolls a vivid green elf-hat, slipping it atop her immaculate red up-do. Craning up to
the mirror above the hearth, she checks her reflection.

Mmmming, she takes off the hat, folds down the pointy end to a jaunty angle, then puts it back on.

Larry’s voice is dry. “Very fetching, Mitch.”

Her eyes sparkle. “Yes, I thought so.” She unrolls a curl of paper. “What is the best kind of Christmas
shopping?”

“Elf service!”

Then she examines the small plastic packet which popped out with it, opens it and tips the contents
onto the table-top; a jewellery set; bead bracelet in gaudy colours, necklace and a matching ring in
cheap gilt.



Larry inclines his head. “That would probably turn your skin green if you wore it.”

She touches the silver and emerald necklace she already wears. “I think I prefer this.” Then she
nudges him, eyeing him towards Charlotte. Larry’s face goes slack, forehead creasing.

Mitch nods down to the cracker by his plate, then back to Charlotte, and his brow unfurrows.

Tentatively, Larry leans forward, offering the cracker. “Jenny?”

She stares at it, then takes the end.

Never was there such a slow, drawn-out pull of a Christmas cracker. She tugs and he relaxes, the
cracker following her hand. Then Larry seems to realise he’s supposed to pull too. And this time the
cracker follows him.

Richard speaks, a touch of asperity in his voice. “You’re supposed to pull together, in opposite
directions.”

Finally, the two assemble the required hand-eye coordination and teamwork to pull the wretched thing
and the cracker flies in two with a shower of curly pink paper fizz. Charlotte sets a two-inch plastic
snowman to one side. “Perhaps for the cake,” she says.

“And now,” says Beth, “… you're supposed to read out the joke.”

Larry blinks, reaching for the slip of paper. As he opens his mouth to speak, Charlotte’s lips twitch. “But
you have to wear the hat.” His face hardens again.

Her eyes sparkle with mischief but then soften. “Last year was my first Real Christmas. This is yours.”
Then the devil is back in her eye. “So, you have to wear the hat.”

Michael stares at the ceiling. James is sucking in a smile. Richard props his chin on a fist.



Revenge takes many forms…

Larry’s eyes narrow and he looks to Mitch. She nods, her face smooth and innocent. “That’s right. You
have to wear the hat.”

He scratches his nose, then unfolds a Barbie-pink paper hat, placing it carefully on his head. Then,
uncurling a sliver of paper, holding it at arm’s length and against the light, he reads. “What do you get
if…” He winces… “…you cross Santa with a duck?”

“I don’t know…” we all chorus… “… What do you get if you cross Santa with a duck?”

“A Christmas quacker.” Larry’s grimace deepens, then he huffs a laugh, screws up the paper and
tosses it over his shoulder. James grins. So does Richard.

Charlotte offers her cracker to James. “We need to pull the rest of the crackers. You need a hat too.”
His grin dissolves. So does Richard’s as Beth turns, bearing on him, with a 50mm calibre cracker.

Richard sighs, apparently surrendering to the inevitable, but then swings on Ryan. “You too. We can’t
have the house guests not in the party spirit.”

*****

James, wearing a neon-green pirate hat, enters with another loaded platter, Meg and Archie trotting in
his wake. He turns, aiming a finger back out to the hall. “Out,” he says, then clicks the door firmly
closed behind himself.

“We have a salad course next,” he announces. “Just a bit of something light pending the main meal.”

Klempner, his pink paper hat askew, heaps salad and prawns onto his plate then scans the table. “Is
there any dressing?”



James slides across a condiments tray loaded with jars and bottles, indicating one bottle after another.
“Thousand Island… Extra virgin olive oil or balsamic.”

Klempner snaps his fingers at the final bottle. “I prefer my oil experienced.”

Charlotte coughs… Her eyes across to her father’s

Revenge is sweet…

Who wants to think about their parents having sex?

Mitch pays strict attention to her meal, shaking her head.

Is this setting the tone for the relationship they’re going to have?

Ryan nudges me. In a low voice he says, “Do you think those two are going to spend all their time
needling each other?”

I chuckle. “You took the words out of my mouth. But think of it this way. If the energies of Larry
Klempner, one of the world's most dangerous men, are diverted into a bit of harmless bickering, I'd say
that's a win all round. Wouldn’t you?”

“Can’t argue there.”

*****


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