Page 37 of Someone For Everyone

‘Well… no, but that’s beside the point.’

His smile expanded, turning into one of those killer-grins that made his dimples pop and her stomach flip. ‘I like your Advent calendar,’ he said, accidentally knocking over the card from her mum, when he leant against the desk. As he righted it, he spotted the words inside. ‘Katiekins? Is that your nickname?’

‘It’s what my dad used to call me when I was a baby. It kind of stuck. Mum uses it when she’s being sentimental.’ Her voice caught on the mention of her dad and she had to clear her throat.

‘Sweet.’ He straightened the card. ‘How are you getting on listing the assets?’

‘Good, although I’ve uncovered a bit of a puzzle.’ She showed him the entry in the dusty ledger. ‘I found this list of wines, some of which are quite rare. The value could be significant, but it doesn’t say where the bottles are stored. I’ve looked in all the obvious places, but I can’t find them. Have they been sold, do you know?’

Calvin shook his head. ‘They’re in the wine cellar.’

‘You have a wine cellar? Where? I couldn’t find it.’

‘It’s hidden,’ he said, moving away from the desk. ‘Come here, I’ll show you.’

Intrigued, she followed him.

‘I suppose I should start thinking about what we’re going to do here at Christmas,’ he said, stopping in front of one of the bookcases. ‘The residents deserve something nice – the staff, too.’

He was a thoughtful man, she realised, as well as kind, and she was suddenly curious to know more about him. ‘What were Christmases like when you were young?’ she said, figuring she’d spilled the beans about her upbringing, so it seemed only fair to redress the balance.

‘Nothing fancy,’ he said, staring at the bookcase. ‘We didn’t have expensive presents or go on trips to Lapland like some ofthe kids at school, but we always had a good time. Mum and Granny Esme would be in the kitchen making dinner, and Uncle Bert would make up silly games.’

She watched him counting books. ‘Er… what are you doing?’

‘Looking for… Ah, here it is.’ He removed a battered book and reached behind it to pull a lever. There was a dull clunking sound, followed by a creak. ‘The wine cellar’s behind here,’ he said, tugging open the bookcase to reveal a staircase.

Kate’s eyes grew wide. ‘A secret passage?’

Calvin cocked an eyebrow. ‘Want to take a look?’

‘God, yes.’ But then she spotted the rustic stone walls and spiralling staircase. ‘It looks a bit spooky. Is it safe?’

‘As long as you watch your step. The lighting isn’t great and there’s no handrail.’ He flicked a light switch just inside the door and entered the stairwell.

‘So, what kind of games did you play?’ she asked, following him into the dim light, and trying not to focus on how steep the steps were.

‘There was one called the post-office game. Uncle Bert would invent fake town names and hide little carboard postboxes around the house, and we’d be given letters to post. The first person to post all their letters won the game.’

She followed him down the narrow staircase. ‘I bet you always won.’

‘Nope, never.’

‘How come?’

‘Because I never cheated,’ he said, glancing back. ‘My brother and sister used to hide the postboxes once they’d posted their letters, so I couldn’t post mine. I found one in the washing machine once.’

She laughed. ‘That’s mean.’

‘I didn’t mind. I’m only competitive on the football pitch. Poor Mum would nearly be sent flying, with us running about thehouse trying to find the boxes. She never minded, though, she liked us to have fun. It wasn’t always easy for her.’

The temperature had noticeably dropped. ‘How come?’

‘I guess my childhood was similar to yours, in a way. Dad wasn’t around and Mum had to work several jobs to pay the bills. We spent school holidays being looked after by Granny Esme or staying with Uncle Bert here in Kent.’

She stopped walking. ‘Can I lean on you? I can’t see my footing very well.’

‘Sure.’ He patted his shoulder, waiting until she’d placed her hand there before selecting the torch function on his phone and aiming it downwards. ‘Better?’

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