Page 80 of The Secret Christmas Library
‘Oh, God,’ said Theo. ‘If this is another nine clues . . . ’ He jumped up and down to get warm. ‘Seriously, I don’t know how long I can stay up here. Cool as it is to miss a family Christmas, obviously.’
Jamie looked down and set off, and, for want of a better idea, they all followed him.
They trudged on, her head down, all feeling the cold now. The snow which had not formed an icy crust reached over thetop of Mirren’s boots and slipped in, and even two pairs of socks couldn’t keep her toes dry; her feet started to get wet and then numb, which meant she felt absolutely dreadful.
The scale of the maze was insane. She couldn’t see above the high hedges, piled with snow, just the threatening sky above, and wetness underfoot. The fun of the snow had gone. Esme was still needling Jamie about whether they were actually doing anything useful.
Mirren turned her head as they did indeed walk past the centre of the maze. She stopped for just a second to take it in: there was a fountain there, and it was frozen. It was an extraordinary-looking thing, the water cascading down, clear and hard, and then just stopping, piled on top of itself, over and over on its way to nowhere. It looked like a strange alien, bulbous and unexpected.
Jamie watched her looking at it. ‘Weird, eh?’
‘Soweird. I want to touch it. But I also really don’t. It’s like we’re in the upside-down.’
‘Where strange things happen.’
‘Where angels fear to tread,’ she said, and he looked at her curiously, and suddenly she felt it, just as she had before, getting dressed, or looking at her own reflection in the window: that the gossamer-thin line of present reality shimmered, between times and between old worlds and new, and that normal rules did not necessarily apply, down here in the very depths of the year.
He smiled. ‘You can tread, I think,’ he said. ‘Just don’t lick it.’
She broke out laughing, her reverie broken. ‘Okay!’ she said, and laughed, her cheeks pink, her eyes sparkling.
He screwed his eyes up, staring at the locket. ‘We’re not done,’ he said.
‘I reckon we’re going round in circles,’ hollered Esme. ‘And I’m getting frostbite.’
‘Yeah,’ said Jamie, not sounding very sure of himself. ‘Come on, then.’
They marched on, but the one reassuring thing was that they didn’t end up in any more cul-de-sacs; they never quite stopped, even though Esme insisted they were going nowhere.
Mirren’s toes were freezing now; they were sore to the point of pain. She was getting seriously worried they’d never find their way out. She was, she realised, indeed marking well in Jamie’s footsteps, just like the song.
Finally, he came to a stop, up against a leafy corner, snow heaped high. Mirren was distracted and stumbled into him.
‘Whoa there,’ he said, holding her up. Then he looked at her closely. ‘You’re freezing, aren’t you?’
She nodded, miserably.
‘Oh, lord,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry. Worst Christmas Eve ever.’ He cast around for the best thing to do. ‘Let me see your hands.’
She looked at him, but he seemed entirely serious. She held out her hands and he took the mittens off, as well as his own.
‘Yes, they’re wet,’ he said, frowning, then rubbed her pale white hands, trying to get the life back into them, then put her hands into his own warm gloves and squeezed them tight.
Mirren looked at him. The warmth of his hands on hers felt so good, even if it hurt a little as the blood pulsed them back to life; his gloves were far better than hers.
‘Thank you,’ she said, looking at him, and suddenly the fact that they were lost in a freezing, spooky old maze in the middle of nowhere didn’t seem to matter so much. It didn’t matter at all.
She was about to boldly ask for a hug, to step forward, ask for more than just his hands; ask for his arms, his long, lean, warm body – suddenly she wanted this more than anything, anything in the world. She craved it.
‘Comeon!’ yelled Esme. ‘It’s completely freezing!!’
‘And I want to be sick again,’ said Theo, unnecessarily.
Esme marched forward, kicking her way through the snow, and they meekly broke apart and followed.
‘One more right,’ said Jamie. They were, as far as Mirren could tell, far away from the centre now, closer to the northeast edge, trees looming up ahead of her, making everything even darker. This end of the maze was neglected; presumably people made it to the centre then went back out again the same way, or bumbled about the beginning half. This was a distant corner, which presumably would look beautiful and symmetrical from above but was even more neglected than the rest. Piles of dark, rotting leaves were submerged in snowy corners, forming sinister outlines in the dirt.
Mirren’s mood changed. She didn’t like it, suddenly. Being so lost. So far away from home. They were incredibly far away from the house, even; what had felt like a nice walk on that nice sunny morning now felt like a horrible trek back. And she was hungry, despite their good breakfast. They’d missed lunch completely, she’d had no dinner the night before, and all the exercise had given her a huge appetite. She wanted to be somewhere cosy, in front of the fire, with Jamie telling her things or, even better, both of them curled up with a book. Peace and quiet, and cosiness.
