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There was another pile of parcels from AliExpress, all ad- dressed to Klaus. Bright took them down to his dad’s, peer- ing around the stack and then struggling to balance them all as he tried to get in the front door. Klaus wasn’t answering and there was no sign of him inside.
The house smelt strongly of fried food, so he stacked the packages on the bench and went to the sliding doors, opening them wide to let in some fresh air. Klaus’s neighbours, Dale and Sherry, were outside at their patio table with a large jug of something fruity and not nearly enough clothing, if you asked Bright. Sherry was in some sort of minimalist crochet bikini, while Dale had on a pair of canary-yellow speedos.
“Why, hello there, Bright,” Sherry called, jiggling the ice cubes in the jug as she poured a drink, her own jugs also swaying in a most alarming way. “Fancy a Pimm’s?”
“Thanks, but no,” Bright said, looking intently over Sher- ry’s shoulder at her bird bath. “Have you seen Dad at all?”
“He was over earlier, asking to borrow a belt,” Dale told him, standing up and coming closer to Bright, belly preced- ing him. “He needed something with a bit more girth, and I’ve definitely got that.” He gave his ample belly a rub.
“You most certainly have, darling,” Sherry said, stretching out one leg and giving her husband’s bottom a poke with a manicured toe, winking at Bright.
“Right, well.” Bright cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you to enjoy the sun then.”
“Right you are,” Dale said. “Feel free to join us any time.”
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There was a large bucket of fried chicken in the fridge, along with two chocolate mousse containers. On the bench was a Christmas cake with a large wedge missing from it. Bright was looking in the pantry to see what else his father was eat- ing when the TV suddenly flicked on.
A low-pixel image of his mother, dressed in a nightgown, holding a plate and smiling at the camera, was frozen on the screen. Behind her was a Christmas tree and the old mus- tard-yellow couch Bright remembered from their family home. He stood and stared at the screen for a few minutes,
taking in his mother’s face. When he finally moved closer, he realised his dad had been watching home movies, with the old VCR hooked up to the back of the TV. He hit play, then watched as his mother put down the plate of cookies on the wooden coffee table and beckoned to someone. A man in a Santa suit came into view and the pair hugged, then slow danced in the lounge, his mother laughing and then his fa- ther’s face coming into view. Klaus looked so young, his eyes twinkling, and he kissed his wife, lifting her up as he did, hands under her bottom.
Bright could remember the night Santa had visited them. It was Christmas Eve and he and Bern had been squeezing the gifts under the tree, hoping to figure out what they could be, when there was a knock at the door. Santa had come in, sat on their couch and asked them in a gruff voice what they wanted for Christmas.
“Ask them if they’ve been good enough,” his mother had said with a laugh, taking a photo of the three of them.
Of course, they must at some point have realised it was their father, years later, Bright assumed, but he didn’t recall when. He and Bern had been awestruck to see Santa.
Had his mother known then that she was sick? he won- dered. He turned off the video. Why was Klaus watching it now? And where the hell was he?
Bright tried the garage door again. Still locked. He made a mental note to call a locksmith.
On his way back to the office, he passed Dallas, leaning against the outside wall of the entryway, talking to someone on the phone.
“Well, I can only imagine how hot you looked in that, babe,” he was saying. “Unless you send me a picture? Some- thing to keep me warm in bed later?” He gave Bright a head nod as he passed. “Nah, babe, you know you’re the only girl for me. I haven’t even noticed ...”
Bright gave him a friendly smile as he went past. He seemed a good bloke really, he thought. He might have been a bit quick to judge the first time they met.
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He went looking for Mary. They needed to go over some Christmas things, and perhaps they could do it over lunch? Jerry was in the foyer, a peaked cap on his head, jangling a set of keys.
“Off for a drive?” Bright asked him.
“Yes, popping down to the garden centre. I need some snail bait and a bit of mulch. I was going to ask if anyone else needed anything.” They headed into the clubhouse, both looking around. Mary was at a table, a pile of crepe paper, scissors and tape around her, making paper chains with Lois and Glenda.
“Would anyone like me to pick them up any gardening supplies while I’m out?” Jerry asked.
“Are you going now?” Glenda asked, smoothing her hair.
“I wouldn’t mind coming for a drive to keep you company?” “Oh, well, I mean, right ... yes, of course ...”
Bright thought Jerry looked a little concerned. “Lois, per- haps you’d like to join us?”
Lois looked pleased. Glenda less so.
“That would be lovely, Jerry. Mary, you don’t mind if we leave the rest to you, do you?”
“No, no, that’s fine,” Mary said. “I can finish these off to- night if need be.” She looked a little tired, Bright thought, her smile a little strained.
“Perhaps I could help?” he found himself saying. Mary looked at him in surprise. “While we go over the menu for the Christmas party?” he added.
“Oh, lovely, I do hope we’re having a nice hot ham?” Glen- da said.
“I much prefer turkey myself,” Lois said.
“We never had turkey when I was a girl,” Glenda said. “Ham is really more traditional.”
“Well, you should never be too old to move with the times,” Lois was saying as they headed out, Jerry looking back and forward between them, a bewildered look on his face.
“So, what do I do?” Bright asked, waving a hand over the table and the decorating supplies scattered there.
“I’ll show you.” Mary passed him a pair of scissors. “Thank you.”
“You may not say that when I tell you I’ve had to cut the budget for the lunch,” he said.
CHAPTER 14