Page 69 of The Secret Christmas Library
Mirren looked around. ‘It may seem a little obvious,’ she said, ‘but we couldprobablychoose a book for everyone.’
Jamie laughed. ‘Oh, God. The last thing anyone wants to see. Ever again.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Mirren, stoutly. Nobody slagged off books in her presence. ‘A good book is a good book, regardless.’
‘I don’t know what I’d get Esme,’ said Jamie. ‘She only readsVogue.’
‘Oh, that’s easy,’ said Mirren instantly. ‘Jilly Cooper. She’ll love it.’
‘Have you seen any?’
‘I think so, in the North Library yesterday . . . I did think it would have been funny if your grandfather hid his clues in something really sexy.’
‘Wouldn’t be a bad place.’
‘Would be aterribleplace,’ said Mirren instantly. ‘Don’t put it in any books people can’t stop reading if you want it to remain undiscovered.’
He grinned. ‘See, that’s why we need you.’
She looked up at him then. His worried face, the slightly too long hair, his fine brow and long nose. You could see his mother was a beauty; it showed in his fine features, his wide eyes and full lips.
The fire crackled behind them but there was no other noise in the room, and, suddenly, the atmosphere had changed. Something about need: there was a hunger, suddenly, in his eyes that Mirren hadn’t noticed before. And in herself too – she had felt something crystallise inside her; not because his story was sad, although it was, but because he had been able to share it with her, to talk, person to person, honestly and genuinely. She didn’t find that in a lot of men. It made him attractive in a way she doubted he would understand; to explain to a man that it was strong to display vulnerability was not something, in Mirren’s experience, that worked terribly well in this world. Theo never would understand. But she wasn’t interested in Theo now. Not even the slightest. It had turned off like a switch. Because, suddenly, there was someone here she found herself far more drawn to.
He had felt it too, she was sure of it. It felt like sparks flying in the heat of the room, his expression changing from worry tosomething like hope, as the fire crackled and he looked at her, steadily.
‘What kind of book would you choose for me?’
Mirren thought about it. ‘Something sad to begin with but, ultimately . . . uplifting.’
‘With a happy ending?’
She looked at him directly then. ‘Why not?’ she said, and suddenly her tone was breathy and unmistakable.
He moved forward, almost imperceptibly, just a little, and Mirren found herself, too, almost hypnotised, moving forward, just the tiniest bit, her entire body leaning towards him, wanting to be closer, immediately stopping as the door from the kitchen crashed open loudly and the rest of the party tumbled in.
35
The noise was ridiculous, and just seemed to get louder, as they both sprang apart as if doing something they shouldn’t. Mirren felt her cheeks flame, as Bonnie burst through the servants’ staircase doors, followed closely by Esme and Theo, all of them shouting. Bonnie was laying down a tray full of cold cuts, cheese and fresh bread, with chutney and pickled onions for them to make a hearty ploughman’s supper.
‘I told them,’ she said to Jamie, her face pink and quivering. She stopped for a moment, looking at both of them, as if she could smell something in the air between them. Mirren frankly wouldn’t put it past them: she already thought it entirely possible that Bonnie was part witch.
Esme and Theo were yelling incoherently, and, Mirren ascertained quite quickly, were absolutely roaring drunk. They must have achieved this with some speed. Although she wasn’t wearing her watch. Time didn’t seem to stick to its normal passage here; it wobbled in and out. She couldn’t tell how long she and Jamie had been lying on the rug, talking of this and that. It could have been hours, or minutes. She looked over to him. His sandy brown hair had fallen in his eyes, and the little frown line was back. She wanted to use her fingers to smooth it out, to calm him down. Then move her hand lower . . .
‘What the hell?’ he was saying.
‘They’ve been all through the kitchen,’ said Bonnie, looking irritated for the first time. ‘Stuck their fingers in the Christmas pudding. They drank the cooking brandy! Now how am I going to set it on fire?’
‘You were going to set it on fire?’ Mirren was genuinely excited. ‘I love Christmas pudding.’
‘It was terrible,’ slurred Esme. ‘Or great – not sure.’
‘Not as great as the sloe gin,’ said Theo. His hair was awry, his chin unshaven, and his eyes weren’t quite focused.
‘You drank thesloe gin?’ said Jamie. ‘That’s been there for donkey’s years.’
‘It gets stronger every year,’ said Esme.
‘That’s why nobody drinks it!’ said Jamie. ‘It’s rocket fuel.’
