Page 84 of The Secret Christmas Library
Theo nodded towards the direction of the house. No electric lights could be seen – the world around them was dark, lit only from the fire and the torches – but they could just make out – only just, through the thick snow – a tiny flickering glow: candles, it must be. But not one or two. All of them. Bonnie had lit all of the candles she could find, to light their way home.
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Later, Mirren couldn’t remember much about that journey. People seemed to be shouting at her, Theo was there, then he wasn’t, then he was again, and it took a long, long time. They skirted the loch, covered in snow on top of ice now; it got harder and harder to move, as the snow settled on the crust, piled up in corners, and rendered slippery sections invisible and incredibly dangerous. They slithered their way home, half-shoving Mirren ahead of them, Esme cursing colourfully in their slipstream. It was so, so far, and even with the pale glow of the castle ahead they still lost their bearings in the deep dark, as the batteries of the torches started to fade and fail. Jamie constantly worried they would stray towards the cliffs, urging them on while staying on their left. He half-carried Mirren up through the gardens in the end, she was in such a bad way. It had been a strenuous expedition.
‘Bonnie!’ he hollered, as they finally, at last, at last, turned up at the kitchen door, looking as if they’d all just come back from the South Pole. Every bit of them was covered in snow; Jamie had it in his eyebrows.
They fell in through the kitchen door, into the blissful warmth of the Aga-warmed room, which had something delicious-smelling cooking on the stove. Bonnie was nowhere to be seen.
‘Oh, God,’ said Jamie, propping Mirren up on the chair nearest the Aga. She looked up with a start.
‘Oh, God,’ she echoed. ‘What the hell?’
‘Don’t . . . it’s okay,’ said Jamie. He found, suddenly, that he wanted to weep. It was a ridiculous sentiment, and he tried immediately to swallow it back. Mirren, he realised suddenly, had noticed.
‘Do you know, I could cry,’ she said, immediately. ‘God, that was so weird.’
He knelt down, to keep himself busy.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Taking your boots off,’ he said. ‘You need to warm your feet up.’
‘Christ, I really do,’ said Mirren.
He carefully pulled them off and once again she was watching his sandy head. She was very tired, suffering from the effects of exposure, under-slept and overstimulated, and she had seen the tears in his eyes. That was her excuse, anyway, for pulling off her mitten with her teeth, taking her frozen hand, and running it softly through his hair.
He looked up at her, his hazel eyes brimming with unshed tears, and blinked a couple of times. Then he put his hand on hers, drew it to his head.
‘I was worried about you,’ he said, gently.
‘Ow!’ said Mirren suddenly. ‘OW OW OWOWOW!’
‘What?’
‘My hand! It hurts likebuggery.’ She shook it hard.
‘That’s the circulation coming back. You really are a softy southerner, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Mirren. ‘If I ever, ever get out of here, I am going to send up a prayer to the God of Central Heating every night.’
He pulled off her other boot and put it to one side. ‘Give them to me,’ he said. ‘You have to rub them really hard. We can do it together.’
‘Is that even legal?’ Mirren said, but she found a smile from somewhere within herself, as he took both her hands between his own and started rubbing them together fast, as if he were rubbing two sticks together to make a fire. Esme had headed off to the bathroom and to find Bonnie; there was no sign of Theo, and Jamie mentally gave him fifteen minutes before he went back out in the storm to look for him. He didn’t even take his own boots off.
The feeling gradually came back into Mirren’s hands, but she couldn’t say she was entirely happy about it; she liked Jamie’s hands on hers, liked him kneeling before her. The slightly cloudy feeling that had hit her out in the garden hadn’t gone away; instead, it had transferred to this beautiful kitchen, the old clock still ticking on the wall, the candles fluttering everywhere, the pot on the warm stove. Inside, as the cold finally began to subside, the warmth she felt was from being indoors, somewhere dry and cosy – but also, from being near him.
I want this man so desperately, she found herself thinking to herself, very clearly.I want him so much. He looked at her, and she worried suddenly that she’d said it out loud, but instead he was saying, ‘I’ll go and check for Theo in a minute . . . Here. You get started,compadre.’
And he handed her the letters.
He trusted her so much, he’d simply handed them over. It was extraordinary. Mirren held the thin leaves in her hands. Jamie was going through the drawers until he found replacement batteries for his torch and put his gloves back on again.
‘I may be some time,’ he said.
‘Don’t you dare!’ said Mirren.
‘I’m kidding,’ he said. ‘I’ll be five minutes and haul Theo back. He’ll probably be doing his favourite thing: throwing up by a hedge.’
