“Par ici monsieur.”
A red accordionpleated dress swirled past them, a little oval face framed by brown flat curls, pearly teeth in an open-mouthed laugh.
“Fifi Waters,” everyone shouted. “Why my darlin lil Fifi, come to my arms.”
She was lifted onto a chair where she stood jiggling from one foot to the other, champagne dripping out of a tipped glass.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Happy New Year.”
“Many returns of the day....”
A fair young man who had followed her in was reeling intricately round the table singing:
O we went to the animals’ fair
And the birds and the beasts were there