Chapter 36

Mitch sits in an armchair by the fire, knitting something small and stripy in rose pink, apple green and
primrose yellow. Tucked down beside her, kinda out-of-sight behind the chair, is a huge canvas bag,
stuffed tight, balls of green and red wool poking out of the top.

“What is it?” I ask.

“A winter hat for Cara,” she smiles.

“Another one?” says Richard. “How many hats does one baby need?”

Mitch sucks in her cheeks. “You might be surprised. And besides…” She gestures toward Beth, her
hands neatly folded over her bulging stomach, with the ends of her knitting needles… “It isn’t just one
baby is it?”

Cara, lying in her carrycot, starts crying. Charlotte immediately rises, lifting her out, holding her close,
rocking gently and murmuring something quiet.

From somewhere outside, there’s a rumble and a clatter, perhaps of a vehicle. Michael makes for the
window, twitching back a curtain.

Charlotte rocks the little girl, trying to soothe her back to sleep. “Who is it?”

“Just a delivery van come to the wrong place. I’ll just go redirect them back to the hotel. Sally will be
wanting the kitchen properly stocked.” But his eyes meet with James, then with Richard…

A smooth lie there…

Occupied with Cara, Charlotte doesn’t notice their glance, but the three men make for the door and
James gives me the smallest of eye-rolls to join them.



Outside, in the hall, he speaks in a low voice. “Kirstie, do me a favour would you. Keep Charlotte
occupied for a few minutes. There's something Michael, Richard and I need to do.”

“Of course I will. You want me to keep her in the lounge?”

“Upstairs would be better if you can manage it.”

Back with Beth, Mitch and Charlotte, Cara is still fussing. “Perhaps she’d be better in her bed in the
nursery,” I suggest. “It’s quieter there and she likes that mobile above her cot.”

Mitch cranes her neck to the door, then setting the half-finished baby cap to one side, pulls something
else, much larger, out of her knitting bag. It flops, shapeless, over her lap in holly green and Santa red.
“You could play some music for her too,” she says. “Have you noticed that she always calms down
when James plays some of that soft classical?”

*****

 

Christmas Day

The heap of gifts stacked under the tree is bright with coloured wrap and ribbons. James waves an arm
down at the stack. “You’re closest, Michael. You’re in charge.”

Michael takes a small gilt-wrapped package from the top, checks the label then offers it out to Beth.
“For you.”

Beth peels off foil and ribbons to reveal what is very obviously, a perfume bottle. She opens it, then
smiles brightly at Richard. “It’s lovely, thank you. The old one has almost run out.”



Michael is already reading the label on another gaudy parcel, bulky and soft, in the kind of economy
wrapping paper you might find in a supermarket or newsagent. “This one’s for you, James.”

He accepts it, raising brows and looking to Charlotte, but she shakes her head. “It’s not from me.”

He turns over the tag, jagged-edged, perhaps pinked from an old birthday card or similar. His head
inclines. “Why, Mitch, thank you. You shouldn’t have. You’re only just getting back on your financial
feet…”

Klempner frowns...

But she chuckles. It's a low sound, deep and throaty. “You’d better not thank me yet. You haven’t seen
what’s inside.”

James pauses, suspicion flitting across his features, then slides fingers under tape, easing the parcel
apart to reveal something large and brilliantly coloured which flops over his lap.

Lifting it, he displays it for inspection. And biting my lip, I turn away while I get my smile under control…

That’s what all the knitting was about…

Dead-pan, James regards the Christmas themed pullover dangling from his fingers. In fact, it is a
particularly fine example of the type. A knitted Rudolph head looks out from the chest. His red nose is a
stitched-on, glittery plastic bead.

I shift, angling to get a better view…

Is Rudolph cross-eyed?

Yup…



Michael meanwhile, is holding another similar parcel. And now that I look, I can see more on the heap
of the same kind. Mitch’s eyes crinkle as they meet mine.

I can’t resist. “You have to wear it, James. It’s a present. I can see it’s hand-knitted. It must have taken
Mitch ages to make.”

James casts me a look then nods across to Michael and the parcel he’s holding. His voice neutral.
“Let’s see what’s in yours.”

“It’s not mine.” His voice equally dead pan, Michael offers the package to Richard, who eyes it like a
live snake.

James lays Rudolph out, smoothing down the front to display the cross-eyes to best effect. “So, let’s
see yours, Richard.”

Charlotte has found some excuse to turn away and is busy fussing over Cara. Nonetheless, her eyes
flick to where Richard opens his gift. Santa looks out from a frame of holly leaves. His nose is as shiny
as Rudolph’s, and again, is a sewn-on extra.

Ryan sits beside me, his hand partly concealing his face. “They look very well made.” He casts eyes
over the base of the tree. “How many more are there like that?”

Michael looks glum, holding another parcel. “Just the one…” Mitch frowns… Then he brightens. “Oh,
no. Two. Here…” He grins as he passes a package wrapped in snowman paper to Larry.

The pullover is in navy blue. On the front, a grey and white penguin with black button-eyes wears a
stripy, multi-coloured bobble hat. The logo declares that Winter is Coming…

Larry holds the offering with all the care of a grenade with the pin pulled out, then his gaze shifts to
Michael. “Let’s see yours then.”



The blond man’s face falls. He opens the final parcel with the air of one laying out his own funeral
shroud; another woollen offering, this one much larger than the previous three, flops out. The festive
theme continues with a snowman on a blue-covered background. Hand-sized snowflakes with little
diamante centres twinkle around him.

“You have to try them on,” I say, turning to Ryan for support. “They look very well made.”

Charlotte pipes in. “Yes, a gift from my Mom. Her first Christmas with us. You have to put them on. All
of you.”

Richard turns to Beth, his eyes beseeching, but she simply says, “It would be very rude not to wear
them.” Then, “You’re so clever, Mitch, doing all that. And without any of us noticing a thing.”. Her
expression is innocence itself, but Richard casts her a sharp look.


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