Page 46 of We Three Kings

‘I’m good with the punch,’ I tell Jasper.

‘The punch was for the children, Maggie,’ he tells me, looking down at the bits of fruit bobbing away in my glass.

‘Well, the Santa in the library was for the children and he invited me to sit on his knee.’

Jasper laughs, raucously, telling me that isn’t his first glass of champagne. ‘That’s Uncle Randall, I’d advise not sitting on the knee.’

Jasper has found me to be a huge amusement since that moment before when I emerged from those brocade curtains and fell into my bedroom. I don’t really know why I hid or pretended to be a bird but I’m lucky he saw the funny side of it all and I feel especially lucky that the wonderful Miles also thought it hilarious.

‘I didn’t tell you that you look very nice, by the way,’ Jasper tells me, leaning against the stone fireplace in this hallway, festooned in garlands. I’m still getting used to this very unfamiliar side of him, the complimentary side that’s not laced with sarcasm. ‘I’m glad you got another use out of that dress.’ And there’s the sarcasm.

‘How did you know?’

‘You showed me that selfie of you and Frank last night. It does suit you though, but what’s that scent I’m getting…it’s giving me patchouli, jasmine…’ he smirks.

‘It’s Febreze, you knob-end, and you know that,’ I reply and he laughs again. He knows this because I asked one of the butlers and he had to retrieve some from the stables. Apparently, it’s what they use to get rid of the smell of horse wee.

‘Well, if we are exchanging compliments then mine are genuine and I’d like to say you too look very swish. It’s giving me 1940s smoking jacket meets international pimp,’ I say, pointing my finger at him up and down. It’s certainly a look. It’s obvious Jasper has been told to wear a jacket tonight so he wears a very luxurious red velvet jacket with contrasting lapels over a T-shirt, suit trousers and trainers. ‘I feel like you need a cane.’

‘And big giant gold rings,’ he jokes.

Secretly, I do like the colour co-ordination and the fact that we match.

‘JASPER!’ a girl says, scurrying up to us with what looks like a Nintendo Switch hanging from her hands. The little girl is his niece and dressed in a deep green satin dress with a giant bow, white tights and patent-leather T-bar shoes. I met her father, Albert, briefly before. He looks like how you’d expect an older continental prince to look, one who is embroiled in scandal. ‘Look what Santa got me!’

Jasper smiles. I can’t give this kid a Lindt reindeer now, can I? That is not a novelty gift you give at a party, that’s a Christmas Day, under-the-tree sort of gift. I look over to Jasper,whose expression tells me he feels the same. ‘That’s lovely, Fifi. Take care of it, yeah? Where’s Cordy?’

She shrugs and runs off to show off her gift to another unsuspecting guest.

‘Fifi and Cordy?’ I enquire.

‘Ophelia and Cordelia. Follows on from Cressida and her mother, Juliet.’

‘And the new baby? Is she called Lady Macbeth?’ I ask.

Jasper snorts a bit of champagne through his nose though he seems impressed I know my Shakespearean tragedies. ‘No, that’s little Hero, they went in another direction.’

‘Super posh,’ I joke. ‘They don’t call you uncle?’ I enquire.

‘Oh, they’ve been trained well, that’s why,’ he says. ‘The grandmother with the vibrato, that’s their maternal grandmother too. You should hear the words she calls me.’

‘To your face?’ I ask, horrified. I watch as someone accompanies her through to the drawing room and deposits her on a Chesterfield. She’s done her turn for the evening, she can now rest.

‘Oh, they always blame her age and alcohol intake but she never warmed to me,’ he says. ‘You can imagine if she knew I was gay then she’d turn on me completely.’

‘Well, her loss. I think you’re bloody great,’ I say casually, and he turns to me, extracting the compliment in my words and half-smiling.

‘Miles!’ Jasper suddenly yells and I turn to see him entering the room, a vision in a traditional tuxedo. He approaches us and his greeting with Jasper is not as physical as before, they keep their distance from each other and it makes me a bit sad to know they have to hide that from certain people in the room.

‘Maggie. Looking exquisite,’ he tells me, smiling. I will forever be known as curtain girl to him, won’t I?

‘I am so sorry about before. I feel like a prize idiot,’ I tell him.

‘I found it a very original entrance,’ he jokes.

‘Can we start again maybe?’ I ask. ‘Hi! I’m Maggie. I work with Jasper.’

‘Miles. My dad is the groundsman here on the estate and I pretty much grew up with Jasper here.’

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