Chapter Four
I didn't think I'd ever be able to sleep with the combination of my nightmares and all this new information filling my mind. However there's a lot to be said about how being at home can settle you in a way nothing else can, because the next thing I know, I'm opening my eyes to see the bright District One sun streaming into the room through the gap in the curtains.
When I get up, I find another one of my outfits hanging on the wardrobe, and there's one of Satin's own overnight bags on the floor beneath it. There's a piece of paper as well, tucked inside far too messily to have been put there by my chronically neat sister. I take it out and unfold it, and the childish representation of a group of people with a small girl at its centre makes me immediately sit down on the bed again.
Victory's drawn an arrow pointing to each figure, and my breath catches when I realise each one shows a member of her family. I'm there, my mass of wavy hair yellow because that was obviously the closest colour match she could find, and Gloss is beside me.
But then my heart stops again when I see that the person on my other side is Falco. Vic obviously knows the Capitol would never allow him to truly be her family, so when I recover I wonder if my niece is simply very perceptive or if she's been asking Satin more questions.
"Cashmere, are you awake?" comes Miracle's familiar voice through the door. "Your hovercraft will be leaving soon."
"I'm up," I call back, rubbing my eyes so I don't cry before refolding the picture and pushing it safely into the bag.
A short time later, I walk into the kitchen to find my brother-in-law alone but for the three virtually ever-present District Thirteen soldiers. They're staring at each other with what seems to be uneasy respect, but they all look up when they hear me. I know immediately that my sister isn't there because the soldiers would be waiting outside if she was.
"Where are Satin and Vic?"
"You know Satin and public displays of emotion," Miracle replies, and because of the type of person he was when I first met him, his expression as he speaks of her still shocks me by seeming more loving than I ever could have imagined him being capable of. "She doesn't do goodbyes."
"She's going to fight. You know that, don't you?"
"I know. Knowing the Capitol had you and Gloss was the only thing holding her back."
"I don't want her to get hurt."
"She'll fight, Cashmere, and we both know it. Nothing anyone does or says will change that. It's who she is. But if I can keep her out of trouble then I will."
I nod seriously and then smile lightly.
"Maybe having a baby will stop her."
"And here was me thinking you knew your sister," he replies, returning my smile easily as he thinks of his unborn child. "When she had Vic she was back in the workshop the following morning. It'll be no different this time. "
"At least now you don't have to call her Cashmere," I reply, smiling slightly at the thought of the new baby, but though I intended my remark to be teasing, it comes out far too seriously for that.
"I would have done," he says softly. "I know you told me not to, but Satin wanted to."
"Miss de Montfort, we have to leave," interrupts one of the soldiers, and for once I'm almost grateful because now I don't have to think of a response to Miracle's words.
Resisting the urge to tell the soldier that I don't have to do anything just because someone from Thirteen tells me to, I nod before turning back to Miracle.
"Tell Vic I love her and that Gloss does too. And tell Satin not to do anything stupid," I say, knowing my sister will take that the way I intended, which is to tell her exactly what I told Victory.
"You should be at home with your family, Cashmere."
"Not without Gloss. You know I'd never leave him."
With that thought, I follow my escort to the back door, reaching up to close my hand around the pendant at my throat. I stare down at my still bracelet-less wrist without speaking again. I've lost one of the people I love more than anything. There's no way I'm going to lose the other.
I take one last look at the sky before the hovercraft enters the hangar back at Thirteen, trying not to think about how long it will be before I see daylight again. As long as it takes for me to help Gloss get well enough to travel home, I think, realising at the same time that it might be quicker to steal a sedative from the hospital and convince Heavensbee to fly us to District One while my brother's unconscious.
The hovercraft door clicks open and more soldiers immediately swarm over to secure it. I get up and walk forwards, solely intent on getting to Gloss, but I'm forced to stop by an officious-looking woman wearing a dark grey suit. She stares up at me, her expression a mixture of disapproval, uncertainty and something else I can't quite place. Surprise, perhaps. Shock that I've returned when I could easily have disappeared into the depths of District One and never come back.
"I'm here to escort you to Command, Miss de Montfort."
"I'm not going to Command. I'm going to see my brother. The only reason I came back," I finish, and her face tells me my guess about what she was thinking was at least partially right.
"President's orders."
"Not my president."
"The quicker you come with me, the quicker you can see your brother. I've been instructed to have you arrested if you don't comply…" she replies, letting her final sentence trail off with what I imagine would sound like menace if I'd lived a different life.
"Fine. Let's go then," I say, mostly because I've learnt enough about Thirteens to know they're so militaristic and regimented that sometimes the quickest way to get what you want is to temporarily comply.
I'm shocked when I get to Command, both at the display of technology I've only seen the match of in the Capitol and also at how President Coin herself is there waiting for me. Her expression is as stern as ever, and once again there is something about the woman that makes me want to rebel against her just to see how she'll react.
However whatever that something is, Heavensbee obviously senses what I'm thinking, because he rises to his feet and gestures to a seat at the massive glass table. I don't accept it. Who is he to think he can move me around like I'm just another piece in his game?
"Why have I been brought here? I did what you wanted. All I want is to see my brother," I say, but now I'm here, I can't help taking advantage of the opportunity to look around and find myself looking everywhere but at Coin.
There are maps all over the walls, all lit up with tiny lights. On closer inspection I realise they show the districts in more detail than I've ever seen before, which mostly seem to be in black, and the Capitol, which is bright blood red.
"What are your sister's intentions?" barks Coin, interrupting my thoughts with yet more of the District Thirteen disapproval I've already come to hate.
I scowl at her, trying to channel every bit of disdain I'm capable of into that one expression. Then I turn to Heavensbee.
"You already know. She's seen I'm free, of the Capitol at least," I add dryly, unable to resist a sly glance at Thirteen's president. "Satin will fight. And allow you to use District One as a military base when you invade, which we were assuming is what you really want."
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" answers Coin, neither confirming or denying what we both know is true. "You can go."
"Is the rebel army going to invade now?" I ask, still looking at the map and ignoring her. "Because the black on the maps indicates rebel control, doesn't it?"
"Yes, it does," answers Heavensbee, inclining his head slightly.
"Is it wise to involve the Capitol's pets in discussion of the war?" interrupts one of Coin's assistants before he can continue.
I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind, but someone else sitting at the table beats me to it.
"I think Cashmere's earned the right to an opinion on this after all she's endured," says the middle-aged man with tightly curled black hair that's greying slightly at his temples. "And she's survived life as a Victor with her sanity intact for as long as she has so she can't be a dead loss."
I smile in gratitude and he smiles back. Something about the look in his eyes makes me want to ask him what he knows about Victors, sanity and survival, but I force myself to remain silent.
"I think Dalton has a point," says Heavensbee to the room in general. "And Cashmere's no traitor. She's been one of us for years. She used to carry messages for the one you call 'The Capitolian'."
"And look how far that got."
"That wasn't Achillea's fault," I shout, and I'm surprised by the vehemence in my voice. I barely knew the woman who began the revolution we're in the middle of, but she had my loyalty, perhaps more than even I knew myself. "She was betrayed. But certainly not by me or anyone I knew."
"We know that, Cashmere," says the former Head Gamemaker soothingly. "In answer to your question, we won't move on the Capitol until all of the districts are under our control. We are yet to establish our position in District Two."
"That's the last place they'll surrender. And it's called the Mountain Fortress for a reason."
"Said like someone who knows a lot about the disposition and strategy of the enemy," interjects Coin's assistant, the woman who brought me here under the threat of arrest earlier. "Too much for a district-born, I'd say."
"I might be 'district-born' as you curiously put it considering we're in District Thirteen, but I won the Hunger Games. Which means I've been on Victory Tours. And I ask a lot of questions."
"I can imagine," says Coin contemptuously.
I ignore her and look closely at the map of District Two that's on the map behind the man called Dalton. It's the only place other than the big city itself that's more red than black.
When I tune back into the room's main conversation, they're talking about Enobaria again, and how no trace of her was ever found when they rescued the rest of us from the Vault. Some are saying she's dead, others that she's been Snow's agent all along. Part of me wants to point out that the Enobaria I barely knew was loyal only to herself and the memory of her long-dead family, but the rest of me decides it's best to remain silent. Especially when the debate seems to be moving back to potential ways to bring down the Mountain Fortress they strangely seem to call 'The Nut' and they've temporarily forgotten my existence.
However when one of the Capitol rebels Heavensbee did manage to bring with him mentions internal spies, I can't stop myself from speaking. I turn to the Capitolian leader of the rebellion, hoping Coin won't try to have me thrown out.
"Does that mean Ursala?" I ask, surprised by the force of longing for my friend that swells up inside me.
"I'm not sure," he replies, and for the first time ever, I actually believe he's being entirely truthful. "She's been gradually dropping off the radar since the Quell and hasn't been heard from at all for over a week."
"Can you blame her?" says a woman I don't recognise from further down the table. "Panem's a tough place to be a Hunger Games Victor these days."
Spoken like someone who at least partly understands. So not District Thirteen then. But I still can't place her face even though she seems familiar.
"I tried to get her out two days ago. But she didn't respond to my message in any way and didn't arrive at the meeting point."
My initial response is to assume the worst, to think of her dead or worse, but then I realise I can't do that. Because if I do then it won't be much of a stretch to imagine the same of Falco. And if I do that then I won't be able to carry on. So instead I focus on another option.
"It's no surprise she doesn't know who to trust," I say, pointedly glancing at Coin and her people. "It's amazing how hostile allies can appear."
"She had her chance," retorts the president angrily, speaking like this definitely isn't the first time Ursala's been a topic of discussion in here. "She's turned traitor for all we know, and now she'll be treated accordingly unless she proves otherwise."
"'Sala would never fight for Snow," I spit, abruptly aware of how I'm the only person standing up and that the woman reflected back at me through the glass on the wall doesn't look entirely sane. Then I realise I don't care.
"Cashmere-"
"You've no idea, any of you," I shout, and for a short time at least, they look too shocked to move to stop me. "You because you've been locked away in your not-so-cosy underground nightmare plotting world domination while the rest of Panem suffered and died," I continue, pointing at Coin before turning to Heavensbee and carrying on once more. "And you because you spent most of your adult life dreaming up new and ever more exciting ways to destroy people like Ursala and me. You'll never understand. You could hear twenty-thousand propos like the one Odair did, and you'll still never get it. If you could then you'd never question Ursala Barbieri's loyalty."
"Ursala Barbieri has family," says Heavensbee, his calm the total opposite of my tormented rage. "And that means her loyalty can be made to change. Now I suggest you return to your brother before you say something further that you'll regret."
I know a dismissal when I hear one, and that wasn't exactly subtle, and as I look around at the expressions of the people sitting at the table, I know I have no choice but to comply. Before Coin either throws me out or I find myself in yet another prison cell.
I leave the room and head down the corridor, barely holding myself together. But that only lasts until I see Finnick Odair, walking towards me hand-in-hand with Annie Cresta.
How come he gets to keep the one he loves? What has he done to make him deserving when I'm not? Why him and not me? Why is she here with him when Falco isn't here with me? Why?
I flee as quickly as I can, managing to ignore the pain in my body because it can't possibly compete with the pain in my mind. I don't know if I'm crying for Gloss because it seems the Capitol's finally broken him, for Falco because he's lost and I can't reach him, for Ursala because Alma Coin's got every intention of serving her a death sentence as certain as that of a District Six tribute in the Hunger Games, or simply just for myself because I don't see how I can carry on.
I want my family back, I want to go home, but above all, I just want to see daylight. I can't think properly in this cage. I can't focus when all I can see is dark.
I go up every staircase I come to, barging past people heedless of their rank or condition, thinking only of escape. However eventually I get to a door that's guarded by people I can't ignore. The group of soldiers all have guns, but when they tell me I can go no further, my first instinct is still to argue and fight.
"Nobody goes out at this time, Cashmere," interrupts Soldier Johnson, appearing from nowhere to intervene before I hurt someone or someone hurts me.
For some reason, all that really registers is that he remembered to call me by my first name after I told him I hated 'Miss de Montfort' when we first met. And that just tips me over the edge, making me cry all over again. I turn away and run before anyone can stop me.
When I find an unlocked door, I stumble through it straight away and without giving a thought to what might be on the other side. I rub my eyes to clear them and immediately see that for the first time ever in District Thirteen, there's nothing artificial about the light. On the highest point of one wall, there's a genuine window, and I'm so shocked I notice that before I notice how I'm not alone.
"Who are you?" asks the woman who sits on the room's only chair.
She's probably a few years older than me, fair-skinned with dark hair, but not in the same harshly beautiful way as Enobaria. This woman is softer looking in some way, despite how her dark eyes tell me she hasn't been untouched by this war or rebellion or whatever they're calling it these days.
"You mean you don't know?" I reply meaning to mock myself rather than her even though I'm not sure she'll take it that way.
She looks closer, seeing past the travel-worn clothes, tears and what I imagine is an expression still bordering on hysterical.
"Cashmere de Montfort," she says, her eyes widening slightly.
"Thanks for reminding me," I retort sarcastically, trying to decide whether I value solitude more than daylight in whatever place I choose to stay in until I'm emotionally under control enough to return to Gloss.
"I don't know what you've got to be upset about," remarks the woman dismissively. "You're alive, aren't you? That's more than Cecelia and poor old Woof can say."
"Who are you to judge me like you know the first thing about my life?" I snap, anger rapidly replacing my tearful depression.
"Sorry," she replies. "But it's true."
"Who are you? What's your name? If you're going to judge me so harshly then I deserve that much in return."
"My name's Poplin. Poplin Bradley."
"District Eight," I reply, not needing her to confirm that because she couldn't be from anywhere else with a name like Poplin. "Well, Poplin, my brother's in a hospital room he's too frightened to leave, my lover's missing and presumed dead, and one of the very few people I can genuinely call my friend is waiting to see if her enemies or her allies kill her first. That's not to mention the six weeks I spent as a guest of President Snow and Prisca Oakhurst in the Vault. Do you want me to continue? Because trust me when I say I can."
She doesn't speak for so long I begin to think she isn't going to. But then she raises her arms and I see her burnt and disfigured hands for the first time.
"The Capitol made you suffer, Cashmere, I can't deny that. But you're not the only one. They did this to me in one of their factories, in an accident that wasn't an accident over little more than thoughts and a few spoken words. They made me useless to them and cast me out to starve. I've been living on my baby sister's charity ever since. But they only win if you let them. If I don't think of myself as powerless then what in Panem gives you the right to?"
Fortunately I'm spared having to think of a response to that when another woman appears in the doorway, her uniform a darker grey than Poplin's.
"'Lin, let's go. Luce is looking for you. And you're needed back at the armoury."
The new arrival shares Poplin's colouring, though her hair is shorter and looks like she's cut it herself with the dagger that's clipped to her belt. She looks beaten up but determined, and though her expression shows she recognises me, she stands her ground in a way that makes me suspect she'd stare President Snow out just the same.
"Okay, okay, Commander Paylor. I'm coming, Almighty Leader, I'm coming," replies Poplin, speaking to her commander with a teasing disrespect no District Thirteen soldier would ever even dream of as my eyes widen slightly at the sight of the woman Soldier Johnson spoke of with such respect.
The women quickly leave me behind, exiting the room side-by-side like equals, but I find I can't get Poplin Bradley's words out of my head. When I really think about it, I know it's because she's right.
The Capitol only wins if I let it, and if there's even a small chance I can change something to make it right then I have to try, starting with Ursala. And that means Heavensbee. I reckon he owes me for transporting all those messages over the years.
"What do you mean 'Command is a closed meeting room'?" I snap, resisting the urge to say 'do you know who I am?' because I'm coming to realise that means nothing good here. "Go in there and ask Heavensbee if he'll see me."
The guards exchange glances, but the one on my right does as I suggested and disappears into the room. He reappears a few minutes later.
"They'll see you now."
"This had better be good," says Coin, looking peeved that I've reappeared so soon after she dismissed me.
"Send Ursala another message," I say, looking at Heavensbee and speaking only to him. "Tell her that District One says chin up, back straight, walk tall and stop being so damn stupid. Then she'll turn up."
"And we should go to all that trouble because?" retorts one of Coin's lackeys petulantly.
"Panem, you sound like my niece," I reply scathingly. "My six year old niece. You should go to all that trouble because I've heard you all saying your maps of the Mountain Fortress are outdated and inadequate. Tell 'Sala to bring a friend and you'll have the information you need. At the very least you'll be better off than you are now."
"A friend?" asks Coin, not as hostile as before because no matter what she thinks of me, she's smart enough to recognise what might benefit her.
"The wife of the man who saved my life ten years ago in the arena. Astraea Rossetti's been high up in the non-Capitolian ranks of the Mountain Fortress for years, and she did it all for vengeance, so she could really hurt the government when the time was right and she passed all the information she had to the rebellion."
"But why?"
"I told you: for love and vengeance. For Corvinus."
"It's a massive risk," says one of the Capitol rebels I barely recognise.
"Is it?" retorts Heavensbee. "If we can get prisoners out of the Vault then we can get two women out of a district we half control."
"Three," I say, stopping him before he can carry on. "Ursala won't leave her daughter."
"For once you might actually be being of some use," says President Coin. "But we've got no room for sentimentality. A child could ruin the whole mission just by being there."
"She's not a child, she's a woman. And she's just like her mother. She won't hinder the mission."
"Very well, Cashmere. I'll send the message. But it's the last time," says Heavensbee. "If she doesn't respond this time then she's on her own."
"She'll respond," I reply, nodding to the room at large before quickly leaving.
I've done what I can for Ursala. Now Gloss is my priority, because when he's well enough, we can both go home. And everyone knows home is a lot closer to the Capitol than District Thirteen is.
The guards on the door of Gloss' room say very little, but their body language speaks a thousand words, telling me he's no better than when I left. But I try not to pay attention to it, because doing something, going to see Satin and persuading Heavensbee to send Ursala another message, has made me feel a bit more like myself again. Falco's absence is a permanently gaping hole that never leaves, but at least now I'm occupied enough to attempt to push the past few months a bit closer to the back of my mind. For Gloss, because there's no one else to help him but me.
"Gloss, it's me," I call, letting him hear my voice as I push past the guards without permission and open the door. "I'm back."
This time, instead of cowering in a corner, he rushes forwards and hugs me so tightly I can barely breathe.
"I'm trying, Cash, but sometimes I can't fight it. Is this how you felt after your first arena? Trapped and suffocating, like you can't even take a breath."
"It's how I still feel sometimes," I reply. "You'll get through this though, Gloss. You will. Then we can go home."
"Satin?"
"Kicked the Peacekeepers out and took over the district."
"That sounds like Satin."
"She said she's sure she'll see you soon. And Victory did this," I say, taking our niece's picture out of my pocket.
"Can I keep it here? To make me stronger," he says softly, so quiet I barely hear him.
I nod and let him take it from my hand.
"I've got to go and see Heavensbee again. Then I'll be back. We can try to go for a walk in the morning."
He nods but raises his eyebrows questioningly. "Heavensbee?"
"I tried to convince him to get Ursala out of Two. I need to see if the message he sent her was enough. Oh, and I'm going to be in a propo."
"You're what?"
"You heard me. With the Girl Who Should Be Set Alight in Two, our former Head Gamemaker is struggling for show material," I reply dryly, but I can see he's not convinced even though he says nothing when I reach for the door. "I'll see you in a minute."
Then I walk away before I change my mind.
The door clicks open again before I'm out of earshot, but no matter how much I wish he would, Gloss doesn't follow me out of the room and into the corridor.
"So this is where you edit the propos," I say, trying to be casual as I slide into the small, technology-filled room that's only just big enough to also contain Heavensbee and the strangely familiar woman from Command who suggested Panem is a tough place to be a Victor earlier on.
"Yes," Heavensbee replies, sounding almost enthusiastic about this particular contribution to the rebellion. "We've been filming the Mockingjays in Two in the hope that some of the people there will join the fight."
"I hate to break it to you, but I don't think your favourite Mockingjay is all that popular over there," I retort, scowling at the image of Katniss on the screen in front of me as I see and hear nothing but her arrow flying over my head to hit Gloss. "You'd be better off using some of your resources to find Enobaria instead."
"You're wasting your time, Cashmere. I've told him over and over again but he doesn't listen."
I narrow my eyes at the woman who sits beside the former Head Gamemaker, wishing I could remember where I'd seen her before. Despite her lack of access to makeup and so-called fine fashion, she's obviously Capitolian, and her comment was spoken with a casual, teasing tone that tells me she's known Heavensbee for a lot longer than a few weeks, but she's young, of my generation rather than his.
When I look at her, all I can think about is Falco, of how she escaped from the big city and he apparently did not.
"You got out of the Capitol," I say flatly, taking the two small steps I need to bring me right in front of her. "How? Who were you with? Who else did you see when you fled?"
"I… I-"
"Answer me!" I yell, reaching down to grasp the front of her jumpsuit. "Did you see Falco?"
"Who?" she gasps, and after a few seconds, I truly focus on her face and see the panic in her eyes.
"Falco Hazelwell. Did you see him when you left the Capitol?"
The woman shakes her head frantically and then visibly sighs with relief when I release her and take half a pace back. I half smile in apology, remembering how she stuck up for me in Command, and she smiles back.
"Last I heard, he left the Control Room when he thought he saw you die," she says, all her words coming out in a breathless rush. "Then he was seen in the centre of the city with the Black Widows later on. And everyone knows they conspired against the president. They're on wanted lists and everything. The Peacekeepers have been told they'll get a reward just for being able to prove they've seen them-"
"Get to the point," interrupts Heavensbee impatiently.
"Sorry," continues the woman. "After that, I don't know. About Falco, I mean. I'm sorry."
"Black Widows?" I ask, confused and seizing on one of the few things that might have a simple explanation.
"That's what the seedier gossip columns and papers call Narissa and Vesper," answers Heavensbee in explanation. "I'm sure you can work out why."
"They didn't eat Gloss," I reply dryly before turning back to his companion. "But who-"
"I'm Ismene," she says eventually, smiling at the frustration that must show in my expression. "You last saw me wearing a fluorescent orange miniskirt on the night of Katniss and Peeta's Victory Ceremony."
Now she's said it, I remember that night like it was yesterday. I remember the gold outfit Felix dressed me in, the feeling of dread at the thought of how Falco probably wouldn't be able to save me from the fate of every pretty Victor at such short notice, the brightly dressed young woman and her friends who looked down at me like I was nothing.
"From fluorescent orange to District Thirteen grey," I say, suddenly not sure what to make of her.
"A lot's happened since then," she replies, and her shoulders seem to sink as she looks down at the floor. "A lot's changed, including me. You knew Phoenix and Phaedra, didn't you?"
I nod. "Sort of. I knew their mother better."
"Phaedra's dead," says Ismene flatly. "She died right in front of me with a mass of Peacekeeper bullets in her chest. And the ironic thing was that she was only there to try and stop me from leaving with the rebels. She was on their side all along and they killed her."
"Phaedra was a traitor?" I reply incredulously. "I never liked her, but a traitor? To the revolution her own mother worked for? I didn't think she'd sink that low."
"Phoebe knew in the end. She worked it out. Phaedra started to ask too many questions and she knew something was wrong. Call it mother's intuition. But all I really know is that I only got out of the city because the girl I thought was my friend accidentally took the bullets meant for me."
"And where's Phoebe now?"
"I've no idea," answers Heavensbee, looking anxiously at the screen like he wants my interruption to end so he can keep working. "What are you doing here, Cashmere? Can we help you with something? Because if not then we've got a deadline to make."
"Actually, I was hoping to help you," I reply. "I'll be in one of your propos."
"Why?" he asks, barely looking up from the computer.
"Because I know what Snow and his people are capable of," I try, but that sounds feeble even to my own ears. There's hardly a person in Panem who can't say the same. "Because they controlled me totally and I want them to see I'm still here, fighting for their enemies."
He looks up at that, scanning me appraisingly, his expression unusually unreadable.
"He's dead, Cashmere. You know that, don't you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"All the signs we've seen and sources we have indicate that Falco died trying to leave the Capitol. You want to be in a propo because you think he'll see you and realise you're alive. But he's gone. I'm so sorry, for the cause not just for you, but he's not coming back."
"I don't believe you," I tell him firmly. "I don't. Falco's alive out there somewhere. I know he is. And he'll come back to me whether I do a propo or not. I promise you."
"That's good," he replies eventually. "Because there might come a time when publicly revealing your…continued existence will really achieve something. Don't take this the wrong way, but I'd rather keep you a secret until then."
"A secret? Every person in Thirteen knows I didn't die in the Quell."
"And how often do the people of District Thirteen communicate with the outside world?"
"What do you really want from me?"
"Honestly?" he replies, continuing when I nod firmly. "I'm not quite sure yet."
Thank you for reading :) I don't think I'll have the next one ready for next week, so Merry Christmas to you all. Don't forget to say hi before you go :)