'You sleep,' said Julio, 'with him.' He spat on the Chinese carpet and bounded upstairs, pursued by Mum, who trilled back at us, 'Could you carve, Daddy, please, and get everyone sitting down?'
Nobody moved.
'OK, everybody,' said Dad, in a tense, serious, manly sort of voice. 'There is a dangerous criminal upstairs using Pam as a hostage.'
'Oh, she didn't seem to mind, if you ask me,' piped up Granny in a rare and most untimely moment of clarity. 'Oh look, there's a biscuit in the dahlias.'
I looked out of the window and nearly jumped out of my skin. There was Mark Darcy slipping, lithe as a whippersnapper, across the lawn and in through the French windows. He was sweating, dirty, his hair was unkempt, his shirt unbuttoned. Ding-dong!
'Everyone keep completely still and quiet, as if everything is normal,' he said softly. We were all so stunned, and he so thrillingly authoritative, that we started doing as he said as if hypnotized zombies.
'Mark,' I whispered as I walked past him with the gravy. 'What are you saying? There is no normal.'
'I'm not sure whether Julio's violent. The police are outside. If we can get your mum to come downstairs and leave him up there they can go in and get him.'
'OK. Leave it to me,' I said, and walked to the bottom of the stairs.
'Mum!' I yelled. 'I can't find any savory doilies.'
Everyone held their breath. There was no response.
'Try again,' whispered Mark, looking at me admiringly.
'Get Una to take the gravy back into the kitchen,' I hissed. He did what I said, then gave me a thumbs-up. I gave him a thumbs-up back and cleared my throat.
'Mum?' I shouted up the stairs again. 'Do you know where the sieve is? Una's a bit worried about the gravy.'
Ten seconds later there was a pounding down the stairs and Mum burst in, looking flushed.
'The savory doilies are in the savory doily holder on the wall, you silly willy. Now. What's Una done with this gravy. Durr! We're going to have to use the Magimix!'
Even as she spoke there were footsteps running up the stairs and a scuffle broke out above us.
'Julio!' shrieked Mum and started to run for the door.
The detective I recognized from the police station was standing in the living room doorway. 'All right, everyone, keep calm. It's all under control,' he said.
Mum let out a scream as Julio, handcuffed to a young policeman, appeared in the hallway and was bundled out of the front door behind the detective.
I watched her as she collected herself and looked round the room, appraising the situation.
'Well, thank goodness I managed to calm Julio down,' she said gaily after a pause. 'What a to do! Are you all right, Daddy?'
'Your top – Mummy – is inside out,' said Dad.
I stared at the hideous scene, feeling as though my whole world was collapsing around my ears. Then I felt a strong hand on my arm.
'Come on,' said Mark Darcy.
'What?' I said.
'Don't say 'what', Bridget, say 'pardon,' hissed Mum.
'Mrs. Jones,' said Mark firmly. 'I am taking Bridget away to celebrate what is left of the Baby Jesus' birthday.'
I took a big breath and grasped Mark Darcy's proffered hand.
'Merry Christmas, everyone,' I said with a gracious smile.