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"For god's sake don't let the cats in here!" Doyle snarled.
"Wasn't going to." Bodie dumped a large package on the sofa and went to hang up his coat. "Parky out there. What's got your knickers in a twist this evening?"
"Trying to get these bloody presents wrapped. Can't seem to -- "
"Cheer up!" Bodie undid the package. "Behold the answer to your thumbs-for-fingers misery!"
"What, gift bags? A bit pricey - still got loads of this paper left from last year."
"Yeah - that special offer, so flimsy we had to use it triple. Regular nightmare that was, and Castor getting the sticky tape round his back legs and hiding under the sofa yowling his stupid head off for hours. Forget your false economies for once and do it the easy way. What's that godawful mess you're working on?"
Doyle sighed. "Tin of Roses for Janice."
"Not for the family? She gets the lot?"
"She'll probably let you have one. It's the actual tin, really, one of those Cath Kidston designs, she loves them."
"Like brother like sister, eh? Collect any old -- "
"Tins always come in handy."
"Well, give her the tin and let me have the choccies."
"Keep Cadbury's in business all by yourself, couldn't you?"
"Not with you supervising every morsel that tries to cross my lips. Like a perishing harpy."
"And what did you have for lunch, then? MaccieD's?"
"None of your business. Fancy a drink?" Bodie didn't wait for an answer. "Here you go. Stuff for the kids still need doing or shall I bag them?"
"Ta." Doyle raised his glass. "You come in handy as well sometimes."
"Thank you so very much." He started to croon: "I am your sunshine, your tin of sunshine, I make you happy when skies -- "
Doyle rolled his eyes. "All right, all right. Suppose I can be a bit of a grey sky sometimes."
"Ah -- you’re my thorn without a rose. Or a tin."
Doyle chuckled. "All prick, am I?"
"After dinner I'll get your knickers untwisted and you can show me."