Page 20 of The Secret Christmas Library
‘Yes, point taken,’ said Theo, slightly reluctantly.
‘What was he like?’ asked Mirren. ‘Your grandfather?’
Jamie smiled. ‘Complicated, the obituaries said. Crotchety. Obsessed with books and puzzles and crosswords. He could be kind, I think. But he just withdrew into himself. I don’t know if anyone ever reached him, not really. I mean, I don’t know how well we ever know our grandparents as people . . . Well, that’s what I tell myself.’
‘Did he die here?’
Jamie nodded sadly. ‘He stopped taking his medication. Went out one night into the fields and died of exposure. Bonnie found . . . ’ He stopped talking.
‘Oh, goodness!’ said Mirren. ‘That’s tragic!’
‘He was old and sick,’ said Jamie. ‘I don’t know if . . . well. I don’t know. We never will.’
Theo blinked. ‘Bloody hell.’ He looked around. ‘He never met anyone after his marriage broke up? There must have beensomerich American heiress . . . ’
Jamie shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Gay?’
‘You’re talking about my grandfather!’
‘You’re right,’ said Theo. ‘Nobody ever had a gay grandfather.’
‘Theo!’ said Mirren.
‘What?’ said Theo. ‘It’s not an insult.’
‘No, but it’s personal.’
Jamie was looking very awkward suddenly. ‘Um,’ he said, ‘I think he was just . . . I don’t know. But I don’t think so. I think he was just a bit odd, which is why . . . ’ He opened one of the ancient kitchen cupboards. It was filled to the brim with books on water divining.
‘God,’ said Theo. ‘Mind you, you wouldn’t think that would stop those determined heiresses.’
‘Stop it!’ said Mirren. ‘What’s in the envelope, Jamie??’
He was still tapping the envelope thoughtfully. Carefully he wiped his hands on a clean dishcloth that was over the back of the chair. Then he pulled out a folded sheet of heavy paper from the envelope.
‘He left this.’
Mirren and Theo got up and stood behind him and read it over his shoulder, as behind them in the fields a lone gull cut through the penny-bright air.
To my heir,
Down these paths we all must tread,
There hides a precious book, unread;
At the star of neither land nor sea,
First take thy pen, go in, go see.
If you can bear to trace its line,
There it will be, now yours, once mine;
If you can understand, my friend,
Then time and tide must come to end.
