"So there I was saying to Janet that you were probably at home shaving the excess pastry off your pie and how she should come and taste some, wasn't I, Janet"
Sam saw the barely there wink from him to her.
"That's right hon, I mean Patrick."
They weren't even trying to hide it from her. God! She felt such a fool
"So here you are, Janet, what do you think of little wifey's apple pie, then?"
It was the 'little wifey' that really bit.
"Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. You must share the recipe with me."
Like, as if, SHE, would deign to put those £60 nails near a lump of pastry.
"She does a mean mulled wine, too, don't you, pet?"
Sam smiled, sweetly she hoped but sourly she resigned.
"I just adore mulled wine. You must let me have the recipe for that too!"
It was the unsuccessful attempt to hide the stroke of her husband's leg with the perfectly manicured hand that cinched it.
"No doubt you could smell it when you came in, Janet. Sam, pet, go and get some of your fabulous mulled wine for me and Janet."
Sam dutifully left the room to fetch the mulled wine for her husband and guest.
"This is delicious! Such an unusual flavour."
Sam smiled.
"Sublime, Sam! You've surpassed yourself. Where's yours?"
Sam smiled some more.
"I can't quite place this flavour"
Sam cocked a quizzical eye at Janet.
"Hey Sam, put a Christmassy record on, won't you? You like Cliff Richard, don't you, Jan?"
Flinching inwardly at the familiarity that her husband shared with his 'work colleague', Sam rose from her seat and chose the 1988 Christmas number 1 from the iPod.
"Er, yes.I feel."
Turning the iPod up to full volume to drown out the sound of vomiting, Sam returned to the kitchen
"Sam, I don't feel too good"
Holding an empty twig, Sam returned to the dining area.
"I'm just popping out for some more mistletoe, darling, it seems you and Janet have been a little busy under it." Sam said, sweetly as she swept out of the room just as Sir Cliff's Mistletoe and Wine finished on the iPod.
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