‘How are you, Mikhail?’ Fiona asks him cheerfully. He looks up and flashes a handsome if exhausted smile punctuated by an athletic double thumbs up. ‘Remarkable performance again, Mikhail,’ she continues. ‘Best yet.’ I get the impression from Fiona’s tone and volume that Mikhail doesn’t speak much English.
‘We hire a motion capture performer every year,’ she tells me, taking my arm in hers and leading me away from him. ‘To be Krampus. Mikhail is a special effect CGI performer. He’s done Krampus for us for two years running now. He’s a phenomenal find; we’re very lucky to have him.’
I let her lead me, dazed, up the basement stairs into the bright light of the hall, my anger morphing into bald incredulity now. The house around us is alive once more with the sound of children, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. I stare at Fiona as she leads me to a ground-floor toilet and starts to dab a wet flannel onto my damp, piss-covered trousers. I stare at her, dumbfounded.
‘I always tell Billy to go before things start but he never listens,’ she says ruefully.
I stop her hand mid-dab and she looks up at me.
‘What the absolute hell was that game, Fiona? You think that was okay?’
Fiona looks at me, confused for a second, then touches my forehead. ‘Why? Do you not feel well? Was it too much?’ she asks. ‘For the baby?’
‘Are you fucking kidding me? It was too much for me. Why the hell didn’t you explain it to me? Why didn’t anyone?’
Her gaze flits to the bathroom door and then back to me, conflicted. ‘Because that’s part of the game,’ she tells me, her tone low. ‘You’re not supposed to tell new family members how to play; they have to find it out, like everyone else. It’s a test. Of character. Of working together, as a team, one generation with the next. Teamwork.’ She smiles. ‘And you won. You should be happy.’ Her tone is tight now, slightly irritated, as if she’d laid on the whole evening for me and this was all the thanks she’d got.
‘And what about Billy? Weren’t you worried about him?’ I ask, and a question falls into place. ‘Wait, how did you know he wet himself? Were you watching us?’
She nods. ‘Of course. I’m not going to let a stranger run around in the dark with my child, am I?’ she says softly, and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve. ‘This house got broken into fifteen years ago. The whole building is rigged with cameras now. You’ll see next year. We all watch the game.’ Her attention returns to my wet trouser leg. ‘I’m not sure how much I’m actually helping here,’ she says. ‘Let’s leave it, shall we? I’ll get you a fresh pair of mine instead. But right now, we need to get moving. It’s time for presents,’ she says brightly, then, assessing my expression, she adds, ‘If you’re ready, that is?’
I give her a look that I hope conveys exactly how ready I am.
‘Right. I see,’ she says carefully. ‘Well, the children are waiting for their Auntie Harriet. And I think they’d be very excited to see the winner, don’t you think?’
I decide I hate Fiona and that feeling that way is okay. I grab the flannel from her hands, briskly rub my own wet hip, and toss it away.
‘Yeah, let’s get it done.’
24 Diamonds Don’t Come from Coal and Other Facts
Saturday 17 December
The lights in Mount Sinai Hospital make the diamond bracelet around my wrist sparkle. My present, my prize, for beating the Krampus. I was a good girl; I protected the children and saved the day. I’m a regular hero.
It’s a beautiful bracelet, I can’t deny it, twinkling on my wrist in the strip lighting of the pregnancy ward.
The Krampus, or St Nicholas, or whoever the hell, left it in my shoe. All the shoes along Fiona and Oliver’s hallway were stuffed with gifts, good or bad.