Graham drained the last drop from his glass, dragged himself to his feet and staggered over to the television. He poked at the switch and it burst into colour and song. The shadows of dead wives and lovers and other assorted Christmas nightmares retreated as the dancers swirled across the screen. But not for long. The spirits were up now and nothing was going to keep them from that benighted house. Doors flew open front and back and in they all marched, all the disappointments of the past sixty years, dragging one on another.