“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.

nods down to the cracker by his plate, then

Larry leans forward,

stares at it,

and he relaxes, the cracker following

voice. “You’re supposed to pull together, in opposite

wretched thing and the cracker flies in two with a shower of

“… you're supposed to read out

his mouth to speak, Charlotte’s lips twitch. “But

with mischief but then soften. “Last year was my first Real Christmas. This is yours.” Then the devil is back in

the ceiling. James is sucking in a smile. Richard props his chin on a

Revenge takes many forms…

her face smooth and innocent. “That’s right. You have to wear the

Then, uncurling a sliver of paper, holding it

we all chorus… “… What do you get

then he huffs a laugh, screws up the paper and tosses it over his shoulder. James

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

apparently surrendering to the inevitable, but then swings on Ryan. “You too. We can’t

*****

wake. He turns,

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