Mary

Klaus appeared in front of Janice’s desk and both Janice and Mary looked up from where they’d been discussing Christ- mas party logistics. Mainly whether they should have a seat- ing plan and how many turkeys they’d need, as well as eating the gingerbread house Mary had made that morning.

“Are there any letters for me?” he asked. He was wearing red pyjamas again — though they looked clean and uncrum- pled, so not the same ones as earlier in the week — and his gumboots.

“No, Mr Nicols, why would there be?” Janice said. “Unless it’s parcels, your mail is always delivered to your letterbox.” “They might not know where to send them,” he said.

“People can get very confused.”

“Dad.” Bright strode into the room and Mary gave him a small smile. The corners of his lips quirked and she thought how lovely he looked when he wasn’t frowning. “Have you

“You’re wearing gumboots,” Bright pointed out. Mary wondered what he made of the pyjamas. “So I’m assuming you’ve been doing some weeding or something.”

“We have gardeners for that, it’s part of the levies.” Klaus narrowed his eyes. “I hope you’re not thinking of cutting the budget.”

The door burst open and Bets rushed into the room. She was out of breath and had one hand pressed against her am- ple bosom. “Come quickly. It’s Lois,” she said. “She’s fainted. In the rec room.”

“I think you’d better both come,” Bets panted. “Not you, Janice, you can stay here and hold the fort.”

Mary followed Bright with Bets bringing up the rear. She gave herself a second to admire the fit of his pants as they all rushed into the lounge. Lois was lying on her back slightly inside the rec room. There was a cushion from one of the armchairs under her head. A few of the residents had gath- ered around.

Lois let out a little groan and cracked open an eye. Bright hovered nervously and Mary bent to feel her pulse. It was beating steadily, perhaps a little fast. “Can you hear me, Lois? It’s Mary,” she said.

“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.” Lois sat up rather hasti- ly. “I think it was the heat. Perhaps some water, Bets?”

“Not at all. I’ll just ...” Bets gasped dramatically. “Oh, my saints, look at that.”

All eyes followed her pointed finger to the mistletoe hang- ing above the doorway. “Do you know what that means?”

“Why, look at that,” Lois gasped. “Mary, you and Bright are standing right underneath.”

“I ... um ... now is hardly the time ...” Bright stuttered. “Lois, we need to get someone to check that you’re ...”

“I’m right as rain,” Lois insisted. “But I’ll feel much better with a wee Christmas kiss.”

Bright looked startled and Mary coughed, to cover a giggle. “Well, now, I wouldn’t want to cause you ...”

“Oh, not me, silly man,” Lois said. “I mean Mary. You’re both right under the doorway. Help me up, Bets, so I can bear witness.”

Mary thought Bright was going to object again. His face had turned rather pink. The residents stood, watching them expectantly.

Mary wanted badly to kiss him. “It is tradition,” she said. She leant towards him and went up on her tiptoes. Bright looked momentarily surprised, like a deer in the headlights. Then he stooped and placed one of his big hands on the side of her face. She resisted closing her eyes as his lips gently brushed hers. Mary heard a popping sound, and for a mo- ment she thought it had come from inside of her head. Like the earth had literally moved.

Mary found it took her a beat to adjust back to reality. It was barely a kiss, but the butterflies were thrashing about inside her chest.

Bets was right. The central chandelier had been on in the living room, as well as the main light in the rec room. The bulbs were now a smoky grey.

“Well, um, that’s ... I’ll go and get maintenance if you’re sure you’re all right, Lois? ... See if they’ve got some spare bulbs,” Bright muttered.

There is a village in Peru where, around Christmas time, people settle the previous year’s grudges by fist fighting.