As the fiddle picks up the tempo everyone in the room breathes again & the tension fades away.

The nameless moggie gets down off her hackles & her fur starts to flatten. Delicately she sniffs the air.... 'peacocks liver, hmmm.... and cream if I'm not mistaken! Wonder if there's any rum or chocolate in it? Those truffles last Christmas were just heavenly....'

As the music soars the stray peeps out from under the tree and judges the distance to the cream. 'Well, I'd better get to it before the monkey gets there first...'