Page 98 of The Secret Christmas Library
‘You never came over here?’
‘I practically lived here. But it wasn’t something I was ever looking for.’ He looked at the tiny winding staircase. ‘And I never went upstairs. That was Mrs Airdrie’s domain.’
The large sitting room was tidy and devoid of clutter; there were no papers, not even any books. There was cutlery in the drawers in the kitchen; obviously discarded pots and pans that were huge for a tiny family of two; chipped crockery from expensive sets. Jamie grabbed a small fire extinguisher from the side of the tiny kitchen. It was designed to put out cooking fires, not what they saw through the window.
‘Maybe it will blow itself out,’ he said. ‘It won’t spread, I don’t think. There are no more trees, and the ground is rock-solid. We should save what we can, then leave.’
But they both slowed down on their way up the creaking dark wood stairs, breathless, wondering what they might find.
There were two doors at the top of the stairs, the smaller, to the left, clearly Bonnie’s childhood room. Jamie took a deep breath in front of the other – if it hadn’t been creepy, Mirren found herself thinking, he might have knocked. And then he pulled up the latch and opened it.
The room was simply furnished, but quite, quite lovely. A large, soft sleigh bed; a thick, fluffy red rug covering dark wooden floorboards; a tiny fireplace filled with dried flowers; beautifulpale white furniture. This room was a haven, everything carefully chosen and looked after. There was good art on the walls and an immaculate little bathroom off to the side. And there were three windows in total, all the way around; and even lovelier than at the castle, because the view from the southern window was the castle itself.
‘I wasn’t expecting this,’ whispered Mirren. The flames were making a glow against the window frames. She glanced out. The maze still held its shape; she couldn’t tell if the fire was spreading.
‘This reminds me of somewhere,’ said Mirren. Then it came to her. ‘Your grandfather’s room. It’s the same bed! The same bedside table! Oh, my God, the same lamp. I wondered why it was all so modern!’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Jamie, frowning. ‘Of course. He wanted . . . he wanted it replicated. Up there in the castle.’
‘The place where he was happy,’ said Mirren.
‘Yeah.’
He rested his hand on the top of the beautiful dresser by the bed. Then he glanced at his watch. ‘Huh,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘It’s . . . ’ He showed her the time. ‘It’s Christmas morning.’
It was one minute past midnight.
He pulled her to him, the fire apparently forgotten. ‘Can I open my present?’ he said, trying to undo her top button.
‘I’m a scarecrow,’ laughed Mirren. ‘Seriously, one of these days you’re going to see me in mascara and lippy and have a heart attack.’
‘I would like that very much,’ he said, and they both paused, at the idea of a future event, a future of any kind.
‘Anyway, no, we can’t, we’re on fire!’ said Mirren.
‘Yeah, we are,’ said Jamie. ‘Although . . . I don’t usually show off like this, but I can be very quick . . . ’
She laughed, then looked at him. ‘God, with you, me too,’ she said, and by the time he’d kissed her, deeply and passionately, she had half-realised that she absolutely would let him, again; that she had to, was utterly compelled; and it was only as they fell back on to the bed, totally carried away, completely caught up in one another, that Mirren landed rather heavily on top of something.
‘Ow!’ she said.
‘What? My darling, what is it?’
‘Um,’ said Mirren, feeling behind her. If she hadn’t been exactly there, in that exact position, they would never have found it. It was a small lump, book-shaped, sewn deep inside the mattress.
They sat up, staring at each other.
‘No,’ said Jamie.
‘Oh, my God,’ said Mirren. ‘Do you think?’
‘What else could it be?’
They stared at each other in the faint glow of the flames.
