‘Merry Christmas,’ she says.
‘Thank you.’
Tom got laid off in the summer and I don’t even have much for the kids, let alone anything for the neighbours. ‘Hang on,’ I say. In the kitchen I rummage in a drawer and find a card, scribble out a message.
‘Here you go,’ I say, handing it all over. ‘What are the chances – I got you the exact same box.’