Read by Patsy Prince
"Picture the scene," Henry says, taking a sip of brandy and setting the glass back down. "It's a traditional German Christmas. We see a young mother, blonde hair in braids, fretting over the placement of decorations on the mantelpiece. The tree is up, covered in tinsel, and three or four fair-haired children are running around causing chaos. There's a ring at the door, and our hausfrau rushes to open it, children around her legs screaming Vater! Vater! They open the door, and there’s a man in a long coat, his face obscured by a tower of presents. One by one, the children take the presents down, until we can see him. We can see who it is.’
Henry raises his left eyebrow provocatively. ‘It's Hitler.’
Lucy groans and turns away. Glen pulls a face and looks at his pint of Doom Bar. There is an awkward silence that is swiftly invaded by the noise of the pub’s other patrons. Henry raps his fingers on his glass while Lucy scrunches up her face, unable to form words.