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‘This is all a feat of imagination,’ said Jamie, sounding excited. ‘But it’s taken us this far.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Mirren. ‘So, what should we do?’

‘Well, the dashes point at capital letters. Let’s write them down.’

They worked through the pages in companionable silence. The wind still howled outside, but inside in the kitchen by the stove it was quiet and cosy.

‘Okay,’ said Mirren finally. ‘I have OOUTDS. Outside? Outdoors?’

‘RNWARJY,’ read Jamie. ‘Oh, that’s nothing, it’s just rubbish.’

‘Well, it’s rubbishnow,’ said Mirren. ‘Maybe it’s an anagram of some kind.’

‘Warts?’ said Jamie. ‘War doubts?’

‘No B,’ said Mirren. ‘We’ll need to do it on paper.’ She drew a circle of all the letters. ‘This is why I’ve never been onCountdown,’ she said.

‘What’sCountdown?’ said Jamie.

‘You’re too posh forCountdown?’

‘Oh, no, hang on, I know what it is. We just can’t pick up Channel 4 here.’

Mirren rolled her eyes. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Solve the anagram. Let’s try with the J first; not many words begin with J.’

‘Joust?’

‘If we have to joust, I’m out of here.’

‘Jar?’ he suggested. ‘Something could be in a jar.’

‘True. Can it make Jamie? Nope, sorry, no M, I or E . . . You can get . . . joy.’

‘Hmm . . . ’

‘That’s encouraging,’ said Mirren. ‘It being Christmas and everything.’ She crossed off J, O and Y, and they stared and doodled some more.

‘And run,’ pointed out Jamie.

‘Oh, yes!’ said Mirren. ‘Run owt joy . . . ’

Jamie almost leapt up in excitement. ‘It does spell something! Look!’

And he wrote, carefully:

RUN TOWARDS JOY.

They stared at it.

‘We were right,’ said Mirren. ‘It’s life advice. He’s telling you that you can get away. All those messages about things he shouldn’t do and couldn’t do and didn’t want to do. He’s telling you to do something different.’

‘Seize the day?’

‘More or less.’

‘Why couldn’t he just write that? Instead of a stupid poem?’

Mirren thought of the bed, the beautiful view, the cosy space.