Still steaming from my shower, my hair turbaned into a towel, I examine the two dresses I brought with me. I’m not sure how formal the Threesome are with dinner, so I packed choices.

I hold them up to Ryan. “Which dress do you think I should wear? Christmas red with sparkly bits, or classic ‘little black dress’?”

“Not the red,” says Ryan. “That satin will show every mark.”

“Why should it get marked? We're only having dinner.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, tugging off his boots and smiling away from me. “I’m going for my shower.”

?

Mmmm…

Standing in front of the mirror, I switch on the hair-drier, brushing through my long locks, easing them to lie as I want, slightly covering my left cheek.

Ryan comes up close behind me. Taking me by the shoulders, he presses lips to the cheek, then in the mirror, his eyes meet mine. “You shouldn’t be so self-conscious about it. It barely shows. And in any case, you are still a beautiful woman; the most beautiful I know.”

“I… I still prefer to cover it if I can,” I stutter. I angle my face to the mirror, tracing a fingertip down the jagged red scar down the side of my face.

After my time in hospital, my months invalided, all my other injuries healed, but this…

An extra layer of foundation…

And some blusher…

Then no-one will see it…

*****

“Dinner is served!” James’ voice reverberates from the kitchen.

We head for the dining room. Out in the hall, Charlotte and Mitch descend the stairs, Mitch carrying Cara.

Mitch looks amazing. In a dress of jade, her hair is set in an elaborately up-style and at her neck she wears the silver and emerald necklace. The matching combs glint green against her copper-red hair.

Charlotte looks equally good. Although she still has much of her ‘pregnant shape’, the gown she wears emphasises her height and her much-expanded bosom but drapes smoothly over her expanded stomach.

Michael and Larry enter together, wearing their sweaters in a kind of protective fraternity, Rudolph side by side with the penguin, each refusing to meet each other’s eyes. Charlotte and Mitch exchange giggles as their men sit beside them.

Richard and Beth join us, she leaning on his arm, waddling a bit as he guides her to sit next to Charlotte. But Beth too, for all her advanced pregnancy, looks spectacular, in a dress chosen to make the best of her inflated stomach and bosom.

Michael aims a finger at Richard. “If you think you’re getting away with the suit and shirt, you’re mistaken. If the rest of us have to dress like idiots, so do you.”

Mitch turns to him, her voice all innocence. “Idiots, Michael?”

He turns to her, bowing elaborately. “My apologies, Mitch. If the rest of us have to meet your high sartorial standards, so does Richard.” He turns back to Beth’s elegantly dressed husband. “Go and change.”

James enters carrying a platter of smoked salmon, bedded on a green salad and dressed with sliced lemons.

Richard demurs, smirking…. “The meal’s arrived. If I take the time to change, the food will be cold.”

Michael takes on a quite untypical heartless tone. “Smoked salmon doesn’t go cold. Neither does melon. We’ll wait.”

James, Rudolph staring out from his chest, sets down the platter. “I’ll be back in in a sec with the soup. It’s just under the grill now.”

Hope lights up Richard’s face but Michael interrupts, “Just hold the soup for five minutes will you, James. Richard wants to change into something more appropriate. We don’t want his starter to go cold.”

James measures the billionaire’s perfectly cut, hand-stitched suit with his eye and his face stone-walls. “Yes, quite right. We’ll wait for you, Richard.”

Next to me Ryan, in his silk shirt and tie, lets out a slow release of air.

“Just realising what a narrow escape you had?” I murmur.

He scratches his nose and sniffs. “Mmmph…”

the sound of Richard clattering back down the stairs, James gives a satisfied chuckle and vanishes from the dining room. Five minutes later, at the sound of down-coming steps, he returns with a

centre-table then takes his place, then glances up. “It suits you very

almost

offers up a bottle. “Red or white,

“Red for me, please.”

moves around the table, pouring wine

the food. “Larry, French

father shifts his

He’s always watching her…

says, accepting the platter, radiating good humour as he serves himself a

sidelong at his plate, her mouth twisting. “I don’t

protest but Larry, eyes crinkling, drawls, “Mitch is sensitive to anything of this sort. She didn’t

at his melon. “You’ve visited Scandinavia,

Larry… “… at one time or another. In fact…” His eye crosses the table to Richard’s sweater, then he twists side-on to face Mitch. “Did I ever tell you about the Swedish

at her teeth, then props her chin on a fist. “No, I don’t think you

just Tomten… Anyway, Tomten gives presents to all the…” He makes air commas with paired fingers… “… good little boys and girls, but whereas Father Christmas here comes in the night down the chimney and leaves the presents under the tree, in

father as though she has never seen

often Santa ever visited her as

Or him?

still speaking… “There, you see, Tomten visits the house on Christmas Eve to meet the children. So…” He stabs at another slice of salmon… “This is excellent, James...” He swallows the salmon, washing

So, then he’ll sit them on his knee…” Larry shifts to a fake and slightly comic Swedish accent… “So, Inga… You have been a good little girl? Or… Gunnar, so you have been a good little boy? Here is your

offer Tomten hospitality, so the parents will give him a slice

so far…” says Mitch, her face

grins and takes another

out to get drunk? Or just trying to

Or… actually, genuinely, relaxing?

there are also what you might call professional Father Christmases. The parents book them beforehand, tell them a bit about the kids and what they’ve done that year, give them the presents to hand out

as he cradles his glass in paired hands. “I’m beginning

at him. “So, if Tomten has, say, twenty bookings on Christmas Eve, by the end of the afternoon, he’s visited twenty houses, handed

a finger at him…” … and drunk

“Correct! So, on Christmas Eve night, it’s not that uncommon to visit the town centre in Sweden to find two dozen Father Christmases, complete with red outfit, beards and boots, completely

burst out laughing. Mitch gets a

been to Sweden, Mitch?” I

tears from her eyes. “Sweden no. But Larry took

“Really? That sounds marvellous.”

speaks slowly. “One of the best weeks I’ve ever had. That was at Christmas

glass. “But you didn’t take to the local

cafe. It only had a couple of chairs and those were outside on the street. There must have been two feet of snow, but they

man next to her, and her fingers curl around his. “It was

still, watching

salmon soup was great. But the rest of it…” A shiver runs through

her, Larry is suppressing a smile. “In fact…” he says… “… If I am not much mistaken...” He hesitates, glances

him, then down to her plate. Blinking, she sips at her wine. “Yes,”

out. Not at the time obviously…” His voice turns dry… “…

Michael exchange baffled

I missing something?” says

what are you both talking

have said anything. It’s not for

she gets that look she has when she’s not happy about something. “Whatever it is, it sounds important.” Her words shift to a hiss. “You can’t just leave it like that.” In her arms,

Wishing he’d not spoken?

“Calm down, Babe. Sometimes people have private stuff between them. You know

Mitch is still blushing. “I don’t mind.

he turns, aiming his words at Charlotte. “Twenty-six years ago,

“Why did

heaven. “It was

life. It’s something I enjoy. Your mother always wanted to travel too but hadn’t had the opportunity. So, I took her to Helsinki for Christmas. Everything was new to her and at

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