Page 72 of The Secret Christmas Library
‘No mother drunk by lunchtime,’ said Jamie. ‘Thank heaven for small mercies.’
‘No Mum throwing the gravy on the floor because someone said it was lumpy,’ nodded Mirren.
‘No church!’ said Theo. ‘This is looking up. Where is the church anyway?’
‘Oh, we have our own.’
‘You have your own church. Of course you do.’
‘But it’s probably rather snowed in.’
‘And we don’t have a vicar,’ added Esme. ‘Since the last one was caught doing un-vicary things.’
‘Actually, these days I think those are very vicary things,’ said Jamie. ‘Oh, Bonnie, is that bacon?’
Bonnie unveiled a large silver container, with a lid that was obviously from something else.
‘Oh, God, I love you,’ groaned Esme.
‘I thought you were vegan,’ said Jamie.
‘You’re the animal-lover!’
‘Yes,’ said Jamie. ‘Kindly and organically reared animals are okay to eat.’
‘Says you.’
‘Lots to do,’ said Bonnie, beating a retreat.
‘Can we have Buck’s fizz?’ asked Esme. ‘As, one, it’s Christmas Eve, and two, I need a hair of the dog?’
No one stood up, so Esme made it in the end. She added a very small amount of orange juice to each glass, topped it up with fizz and handed it around. Theo looked at it as if trying to figure out whether that would make things better or worse, then obviously decided it was worth the risk and necked it.
‘Okay,’ Esme declared. ‘That feels better.’
She glanced at Jamie, who was still very focused on the sunrise. ‘Pleasetell me today is the day we finally get our present?’
‘I hope so,’ said Jamie, who was holding on to Mirren’s copy of the poem as if it was something precious. ‘If we’re right about the maze.’
‘What else can it be?’
‘Anything,’ said Jamie. ‘Someone’s old dry-cleaning receipt.’
‘Argh, don’t say that. Please don’t say that.’
The delicious aroma of bacon spread as Theo made himself a sandwich and looked at it contemplatively. Esme reached for the dish herself.
‘You’re the worst vegan ever,’ said Jamie.
‘I’m eating the bacon,’ said Esme. ‘It’s my Christmas present to myself.’
‘But not that poor pig?’
‘Everyone stop talking about pigs,’ said Theo, ‘or I might throw up.’
Esme refilled his glass.
‘Kill or cure,’ he said, and downed it.
