Page 65 of The Secret Christmas Library
‘Sounds encouraging,’ said Mirren.
‘Or rubbish,’ said Esme.
‘Well, what’s next?’ said Theo.
‘A crown of gold,’ said Mirren. ‘Is there a crown of gold anywhere?’
Esme and Jamie looked at each other.
‘It all got sold,’ said Esme. ‘Everything. This is so stupid. If we had any gold . . . ’
‘Well, we wouldn’t, because it would have been sold,’ said Jamie.
‘He should have put that in his stupid poem,’ said Esme.‘All the gold, which we accidentally sold. And now my stupid story is told and this house is stupid and old.’
Jamie walked towards the kitchen window. The snow had stopped, and a vast oak moon hung over the gardens.
‘I think we should probably call it a day before Esme goes bonkers,’ he said.
‘Don’t be so bloody bold,’ said Esme.
‘If it doesn’t snow tomorrow, we can probably get out. Sky is clear,’ he said. ‘That’s a good sign. Hopefully everything will ice over. Shall we dress for dinner?’
‘No, because it’s TOO! FRICKING! COLD!’ shouted Esme after him, as he disappeared upstairs.
34
They must be getting close, Mirren thought. They must be. What had seemed at first an impossible task – well, they had solved two clues today. They were doing it. There was going to be something there, out of the terrible jumble and mess of the house. She felt excited and rather proud.
Tonight she chose a plain black twenties-style dress, which cascaded straight down, with silver threaded through the fabric, and beautiful black-fringed shoulder caps that trembled when she moved. It made her stand differently, walk differently, to show it off. She put her curly hair in a low bun; pulled some ringleted strands free and added smudgy eyeliner to her grey eyes, and descended by the front staircase this time, feeling unusually elegant.
There was nobody in the drawing room. The fire blazed high and she approached it gratefully. It was very strange being there by herself; where had the boys gone? She had thought she’d heard Theo zipping down their shared corridor to the bathroom.
She poured herself a very small whisky, topped it up with water and pulled an Elizabeth Gaskell from the bookshelf; a fine edition, old but barely read. She settled into one of the brittle, stylised chairs; she’d rather have been stretched out on the rug, but the dress was too lovely.
Then she thought, who cared? Esme did whatever she wanted. The dress could be cleaned; its owner didn’t seem to care about it. She stretched out full length on the heavy rug in front of the fire, and lost herself inCranfordagain.
Without her realising it, the whisky warmed her up, the flames popped and burned and she felt her eyes start to close again, just as they had in the old man’s bed. It couldn’t all be what they’d done that day, she thought, that was making her so sleepy. It was modern life that had made her tired. So, so tired. Here, the rules of modern life did not apply. And there was no doubt her body simply wanted to catch up. No phone. No internet dating. No being angry about Theo, or anyone else. No job stress. No pickpockets.
Her head nodded, and she found herself in that delicious halfway house between sleep and waking, where for some reason Mrs Gaskell herself had turned up, to help them with the clues, and they had all been very welcoming, except for Esme, who hadn’t liked her shoes . . .
The next thing she knew, someone was licking her face.
She blinked, blearily. ‘What . . .? Oh, hello.’ It was Roger, Jamie’s dog. ‘I thought you weren’t allowed indoors.’
The dog’s tail was waving joyously.
‘Once it hits minus four, he can,’ said Jamie’s voice.
Mirren sat up and looked around, cuddling the dog, who, for a rough, tough working dog who had no time for any of that namby-pamby lifestyle, sure did suddenly seem to love being in front of the fire having a fuss made of him. Mirren scratched him behind the ears, and he practically whinnied in delight, showing her his belly and pushing his ear closer towards her.
‘Roger, stop being ridiculous. You’re being such a Pick Me,’ said Jamie’s voice, and Mirren suddenly realised why shecouldn’t see him. He and Theo were carting in huge armfuls of mistletoe and holly, still festooned with snow.
‘Oh, my God,’ she said, jumping up. Roger jumped up with her, to make sure she didn’t break any hand-to-ear contact. ‘You dragged in all that stuff!’
‘It’s nearly Christmas,’ said Jamie, going over to decorate the mantelpiece. ‘And I wanted to check if the ice was going to hold.’
‘I got dragged along against my will,’ said Theo, from the other side. ‘Bloody hell, it’s freezing outside. And I thought it was cold to start with.’
