Page 9 of The Secret Christmas Library
‘Ah, one last job and all that, you know . . . You’re looking well.’
This was so clearly not the case that Mirren winced. She also suddenly wanted to say,Why didn’t you call me? Where the hellhave you been?– but instead she found herself holding on to her drink hard as, with a judder, the train started up and slowly pulled out of the station.
‘Whatisthis?’ she said. ‘Am I being kidnapped?’
‘I know,’ said Theo. ‘Isn’t it marvellous?’
‘But whatisgoing on?’
‘It’s Jamie McKinnon,’ said Theo, as if this explained everything.
‘Yes,and?’ said Mirren.
‘You don’t know?’
‘Wikipedia was not very useful.’
Theo smiled. ‘No, it wouldn’t be. That family is pretty good at keeping itself out of the papers.’
‘Okay, stop being so supercilious and posh,’ said Mirren, properly cross now. ‘Yes, blah blah, you know posh people.’
Theo’s uncle ran an incredibly smart bookshop in Kensington, acquired extraordinarily expensive books, often by dubious means, and had treated Mirren like something unfortunate he’d stepped in. Theo was his penniless nephew who relied on him for room and board – which also meant sometimes carrying out his dirty work.
‘That’s not . . . well,’ said Theo. ‘I don’t know this guy. Except by reputation.’
‘Which is . . . the guy who owns a mad train?’
Theo looked around. ‘Oh, yeah. It’s pretty cool, eh?’
‘You’re pretending to be unimpressed when basically this is JAMES BOND VILLAIN stuff.’
‘I am not,’ said Theo, smiling. ‘I am very impressed. I’d heard it existed, but I couldn’t imagine they’d still let it run.’
‘What even is it?’
‘Well, Jamie’s family used to be incredibly wealthy. Owned half the Highlands.’
‘That sounds like a political minefield.’
‘Oh, well, absolutely, yes, quite right. Until Jamie’s grandfather, a great learned scholar. He gave away a lot of the land and tried to make things right – but he kept the books and the libraries; he was a big fan of that. So basically, the family was left with a lot of books but without a bean. And the grandfather was quitetonto, estranged from Jamie’s mother, let the estate run to rack and ruin. He died recently, practically a pauper.’
‘Oh,’ said Mirren. ‘But they still have the train . . . ’
‘Yes – private carriages used to be quite common. So the family allowed the railway to build through their land a hundred and fifty years ago if and only if they got a halt of their own, and a carriage at their disposal, for as long as the railway ran. And I suppose, one hundred and fifty years later, they still do.’
‘They just summon a train carriage, like getting a cab?’
‘Seems about the size of it.’
Mirren couldn’t help breaking out into a huge grin. Deciding she would reckon with Theo’s behaviour later, she plonked herself into one of the large, comfortable armchairs.
Theo for his part looked exactly as he had done a year ago: thin, tall and pale, with deep-set black eyes, rather like a vampire if that vampire wore Adidas Gazelles and a slightly cheeky expression. Mirren informed herself quite sternly that he was a rat, and she was absolutely not under any circumstances going to find him attractive again. She sipped her drink carefully and warmed her freezing feet. The toddy was delicious.
‘So, we just sit here all night?’
‘Oh, no,’ said Theo, rather smugly. ‘Go and have a look.’
Past the fire was a sliding door through which was a further part of the carriage, with a narrow corridor and compartments, like in old rolling stock, except here the compartments were neatly made-up single beds; there were three compartments,each with two beds. Fresh white linen and a water bowl were laid out; at the end of the corridor was a bathroom with, astonishingly, a proper cast-iron bath in it. Mirren whistled.
