The big dark eyes staring back at John were fearless. They held curiosity and genial goodwill. They held an unspoken expectation of food.

They belonged to a mouse.

“Aagh!” It wasn’t articulate, but it was the best he could manage with twine in his mouth and both hands on the base of the rootless pine the creature had ridden in on.

“What?” Amanda, supporting the top, couldn’t see the small brown body as it doubled back on itself, scampered back towards the trunk, and launched itself towards the floor. John could, and he scrambled back, leaving Amanda to balance the unwieldy tree on her own. Sitting on his heels, he looked to the carpet.

“A mouse,” he said, putting the string to the side. “We just bought one in on the tree”. He scanned the room for signs of movement when the immediate area proved barren. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the flash of pink feet and brown fluff as it darted behind a large glass-fronted cabinet.

Amanda twisted her head to follow his gaze, then gave a resigned shrug. “It’s in now, and there’s not much we can do. We need to get this tree up.”

She attempted to straighten the tree on her own, without success. “Come on. Worry about it later.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, without conviction. “I’ll take care of it later.”

“Later” meant “in two days”. The mouse hadn’t been seen, not so much as a whisker, during the interim, and John had begun to hope it had retreated outside. Evidently not, as two bright and familiar eyes peered out of the cupboard at him on Wednesday morning. Startled, he stared back for two seconds until it broke eye contact and scampered off.

John retrieved his mug, then closed the door and swore: “Today I’m going to get traps. That creature is going to eat its way through our food before nesting in the ceiling, and then we’ll be overrun.”

“Uh-huh,” acknowledged Amanda distractedly, engrossed in the paper she’d picked up while he went for a morning run. “But you’re going to be the one to dispose of the body. Seeing him around the house doesn’t bother me that much.” She looked up from the paper with a smile verging on laughter. “Besides, it’s you he seems to like. Maybe he wants to adopt.”

John raised a sceptical eyebrow in reply, then turned to pour a cup of coffee.

He came home that evening fully prepared. A visit to various store around the Island had produced traps — both sticky and spring-loaded — poison, and three varieties of cheese. After warning Amanda, he distributed them throughout the house and headed outside.

He found what he was looking for at the rear of the garage; boxes, stacked two deep and three high in the back corner. He pulled them out to rummage. Lawn decorations and Tupperware full of ornaments with which to decorate the tree erected two days before soon lay at his feet. Each one was unwrapped from its carefully applied protective covering and checked over for damage. Both John and Amanda’s families took Christmas seriously; the boxes were full of treasures that each had made as children. Nieces and nephews had contributed to the collection in later years; some were gifts from friends.

It was the lights, however, that John looked forward to each year. The decorations were Amanda’s provenance. The lights were his.

Streamers of green, red and white. Blinking lights, big lights, light clusters and metal frames with lights attached. If it could be found on the Island, chances were that John had at least one set. From one year to the next they were discovered, enjoyed and hoarded until they could once gain be shared.

Before they were used, each set had to be checked for missing or burnt-out lights. John worked his way methodically through the lot, finishing just as Amanda came to the door.

“Finished?”

He straightened up from the last string with groan. “Yeah. A couple of them need new bulbs, but the strings all worked when I tested them with lights from other sets. I’ll pick up the bulbs before the weekend, and put them up Saturday.” He twisted his head, felt his neck pop, then asked, “Anything in the traps yet?”

“No, not yet. Actually, I had a look right before I came down, and the cheese didn’t look like it had been touched.”

Her mouth turned up at one corner.

“Maybe he’s enjoying the Rice “Maybe he’s enjoying the Rice Krispies too much to be bothered with it.”

“Mmmm,” John agreed absently, not at all surprised by the news. Several times throughout the evening, he’d reached over for a new set of light, with the conviction that bright black eyes were watching him. “I’ll check tomorrow.”

They coiled the wires back carefully and laid them in the plastic tubs. Shutting the lids, they left the garage and went in for dinner.

The next two days were as fruitless as the first. Each morning before leaving for work, John would bait the traps with fresh cheese and leave. Each evening, he’d check and re-bait them. Each time, they were untouched.

Meanwhile, he watched with frustration and near-disbelief as he saw a tiny shadow scampering along the floorboards each night. It would make the same journey back and forth several times, for no discernible reason.

It’s taunting me, he finally decided. It’s probably got enough food stockpiled wherever it lives to last it a week. The only reason it comes out is to parade in front of me in defiance.

Amanda, still undisturbed by their uninvited guest, just laughed when he shared his theory. John set his jaw and determined to borrow a friend’s cat if the traps hadn’t worked by the start of the following week.

Saturday was bright and dry.

“Good, no delays in getting the lights up,” John approved. Pulling the ladder and the tub of lights — complete with brand-new bulbs — out of the garage, he began to construct the design he’d mapped out in his head.

The red and green to highlight the holly and candy-canes, there, he thought. The blue and white to accentuate the Nativity on the lawn, there.

It was time-consuming, sweaty work, and he’d look over his work with a fond thought for how it would look when done. When the last cord was stretched, he connected the wires and followed the yellow industrial-size master cord back to the garage where it would be plugged in.

Smiling with anticipation, he bend to one knee and reached behind a shelf full of tools for the socket. The smile disappeared with a yell of fright as he felt something land on his unseen hand and move towards his fingers. Her jerked back, but not before sharp teeth sunk into the tender tip of his index finger.

The door to the house slammed as Amanda rushed out from the house to investigate the yelp.

“It was that mouse.” Sucking his finger, John vowed, “That’s it. I’m picking up the cat on Monday. That thing was a nuisance, now it’s a menace.” He spat into the nearby trash can and stomped off to the house for antiseptic and a band-aid.

Sensing that to sympathise with the enemy would not be appreciated as broad-mindedness at this moment, Amanda smothered a smile and waited until he was safely in the house before stepping forward to push at the shelving.

John returned to the garage to find her staring at the now-exposed socket.

“I thought it might have a nest back there,” Amanda explained. “But there wasn’t — just that.”

He bent to take a closer look and sucked in his breath. The socket, set in porous limestone and used but once a year, had evidently developed a fault somewhere inside the wall and been exposed to water. The surrounding plastic guard showed signs of exposure to sparks.

“If you’d plugged in that cord...” Amanda’s voice trailed off, and the two of them stood and contemplated what could have happened.

John closed the fridge and stepped away with a glass of water in one hand and a small hunk of cheese in the other. He dropped the cheese on the counter and turned to go to bed. His wife was behind him, regarding him with raised eyebrows.

“This is a change. Throwing the traps out was one thing, but feeding him...?”

John put his glass on the counter and swept her over backwards before bussing her on the cheek. “There are worse things in life than mice,” he said as they straightened. “I owe a debt. If it hadn’t been for him, I might not be here. What’s a little free room and board between friends?”

Above their heads, small bright eyes watched and waited until they’d retired, laughing, to bed, before scurrying down to collect his Christmas dinner.

... Not even a mouse