Page 35 of Christmas Spirits at Honeywell House (Ghosts of Rowan Vale #3)

As promised, Jack and I spent Sunday afternoon decorating the Christmas tree and hanging holly and mistletoe around the house, as well as attaching bunches of balloons to the ceiling because Freddie begged us to.

The boys contributed by hanging baubles on the tree, removing each other’s baubles, arguing over which bauble should go on which branch, and sneaking chocolate coins into their mouths when they thought we weren’t looking.

Toby, meanwhile, joined in by barking noisily and joyfully at the general melee before jumping on a balloon, which promptly exploded and frightened me so much it was a wonder I didn’t go into labour.

The tacky and tasteless singing Snowman and the battery-draining dancing Santa, which we’d bought for Ash when he’d been even younger than Freddie was now, were on the mantelpiece, either side of the more dignified Nutcracker, and five stockings hung over the fireplace waiting for the big guy to stuff them on Christmas Eve.

‘Just think,’ Jack said, ‘next Christmas there’ll be six of them!’

‘Probably just four,’ I said wryly. ‘I think Santa will be so broke trying to fill stockings for all the children in this house that he’ll decide Mum and Dad can do without from now on.’

By some miracle there was still chocolate left in the advent calendars, but they were looking a bit ragged now, with most of their doors torn off in the frenzied excitement of getting to the treat behind them each morning.

On Monday, the two youngest boys finally took their Christmas cards into class for their respective postboxes.

It was the last week of term but I felt quite pleased with myself because not only were the cards done, but I’d wrapped presents for their teachers, ready for them to take in on the last day of term, and I’d even remembered it was the school nativity play on Thursday and had drawn a big ring around the date on the calendar.

On Tuesday night Jack brought his costume home for the Dickensian weekend and tried it on for me after the kids had gone to bed.

‘What do you think?’ he asked, giving me a twirl.

‘Very, er, nineteenth-century train driver,’ I said helpfully.

‘Very sexy nineteenth-century train driver?’ he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

‘Sexy isn’t an adjective I’d use with nineteenth-century train driver,’ I admitted.

‘Charming.’ He sat beside me on the sofa and put his arm around my shoulders. ‘Shame you couldn’t wear that dress you’d hired, love. I’ll bet you’d have looked gorgeous in it.’

‘I’d have looked like a sack of potatoes,’ I assured him. ‘To be honest, I’m very relieved not to be wearing it. Freddie’s going to look adorable, though.’

We’d hired Freddie a cute little costume that would make him look like a small Oliver Twist. We could have got him one that would have made him look more like Little Lord Fauntleroy, but we had a feeling it wouldn’t suit him half as much.

‘Though really,’ Jack mused, ‘I can imagine him more as the Artful Dodger than Oliver, can’t you?’

‘It’s a shame the other two wouldn’t wear a costume,’ I said wistfully. ‘I’d love to have drawn them looking like little Victorian boys.’

‘Drawn them?’ Jack pulled away and gave me a hopeful look. ‘You’re drawing again?’

I shook my head. ‘No, only thinking about it. I haven’t actually tried it. I’m not sure I’d even know how to any more.’

‘Why don’t you try now?’ he suggested. ‘You could draw me in my sexy Victorian costume. I’ll even pose for you.’

I laughed awkwardly. ‘Sorry, but no. I’m just not ready yet.’

‘Okay.’ He didn’t push me but cuddled up to me again. ‘Hey, when you do decide to give it a try, you could draw Ash and Declan wearing Victorian clothes anyway. Who’s to stop you?’

I grinned. ‘Good idea. Though they’d be mortified if they found out.’

‘Good. If they don’t keep their rooms tidy, we can threaten to show the pictures to their classmates and tell them they modelled for them.’

‘Blackmail!’ I giggled at the thought of it.

‘You can’t deny it’s a good idea.’

‘No, I can’t really.’

‘Maybe we can buy you some new drawing and painting materials,’ he said, ‘now we’re coming into money at last.’

I bit my lip, still not happy that he’d offered the model village to Callie and Brodie. We’d had quite the argument after they’d left, as I insisted it should remain in the family.

‘It’s our boys’ heritage,’ I’d pointed out. ‘And the only thing we’ll ever have to leave them.’

‘Not if we get a good enough price for it,’ Jack said reasonably. ‘We can invest some cash for their futures. They’ll thank us for it when they’re old enough.’

‘But it won’t be a slice of Rowan Vale,’ I’d argued. ‘Don’t you want them to have that, at least?’

Jack had shrugged. ‘Not particularly. So long as the model village stays here and is maintained the way Grandad would have wanted, I don’t mind that we won’t own it any longer. My main concern is getting us out of debt. I need to take care of my family. The future can take care of itself.’

On Monday evening, Callie and Brodie had accepted his offer and terms had been agreed. I’d felt a sense of desolation that my last connection with the estate had been severed, even though I knew, deep down, that the model village had never really been mine anyway, any more than the estate had.

Even so, there was a part of me that wished our sons could have had that at least. Just a little piece of what their ancestors had once owned.

There was no point worrying about it now, though.

Jack had agreed and the estate solicitors were drawing up a contract even now.

I supposed at least it meant we could get everything we needed for the baby and pay off our credit card debts.

Brodie had very kindly transferred some of the money into Jack’s account in advance, as a favour, so we could buy a carrycot and a few supplies for the baby.

I couldn’t deny that was a huge weight off my mind, and Jack looked years younger overnight.

‘I’m not spending any money on art materials just yet,’ I said now. ‘Let’s not run before we can walk, eh? If anything, I need some things to pack for the hospital. I’d die of shame if I had to wear the pyjamas I’ve got now.’

‘Fair enough.’

I yawned and rubbed my tummy, rewarded instantly with a sharp kick. ‘Whoa!’

Jack’s eyes widened. ‘Baby?’

I nodded. ‘I don’t think he approves of our plan to trick his siblings.’

‘He’d better get used to it. Are we making a start on wrapping the kids’ presents tonight or do you want to leave it until tomorrow?’

‘I know I should say tonight, but I honestly haven’t got the energy.’

He squeezed my shoulders. ‘Would you like a mug of cocoa, or will it send you to sleep?’

‘At this point, I don’t care if it does. I’m ready for an early night anyway. Cocoa would be lovely, thanks.’

‘I’m on the case.’ He jumped up and headed into the kitchen, and Toby scrambled up from his position in front of the fire to follow him.

‘I think Toby needs to be let out,’ I called, hearing Jack’s muffled, ‘Okay,’ in response.

I leaned back and closed my eyes, wondering if I had the energy to stay awake even to drink the cocoa.

I yawned again, picking up my phone as I thought I heard a beep.

A message from Callie.

I tapped the screen and began to read, then my heart thumped.

Callie

Just to let yuo know Orbrey’s been to see me and he nowes cos Agnuss apperentley came clene I was rite it wos’nt what Lory told you at all he did’nt nowe you wear heer and hes reely upset abuot the hole thing xx

I stared at the message for ages, reading it repeatedly, and not just because of Callie’s spelling and punctuation. Aubrey hadn’t known I was here? So, when Lawrie told me that Aubrey wanted nothing to do with me, he’d been lying? The whole time?

My fingers trembling, I managed to tap out a reply.

Clara

Why? Why did Lawrie lie? xx

There was quite a gap before the reply came pinging back, but that wasn’t surprising as I knew she was dyslexic and struggled to put down her thoughts in writing, which was why she usually rang me, rather than sent a text.

Callie

Long stroy I think heel explane. He reely wonts to see yuo Calra hees askt if it wood be okay for him to visit yuo I’ve side Ill check with yuo is it? xx

Was it? Everything I’d heard about my ancestor had been negative, but Callie seemed to really like him, and she’d insisted something wasn’t right about the whole situation. Turns out, she’d been spot on. Maybe she was right about him, too?

Another beep.

Callie

No pressher heel totaly understand iff you do’nt wont to meet him xx

Would he? That didn’t sound like the Aubrey I’d heard about.

But after all these years, I owed it to him and to myself to find out what he was really like, didn’t I?

I couldn’t deny, now that there was the real possibility I’d talk to him at last, I felt a thrill of excitement.

It’s not often you get the chance to meet your Victorian ancestor, is it?

And if the worst came to the worst and he was a total git I could always send him packing again. Couldn’t I?

Clara

Yes. Would love to meet him. Tomorrow afternoon okay? Say 1p.m.? xx

There was an agonising wait of what felt like hours but was in fact no more than a minute. Then:

Callie

that wood be perfect hees looking forwood to it xx

I put the phone down and absently rubbed my stomach, as the enormity of what I’d just done hit me. Oh, my God! I was going to meet Aubrey Wyndham. What if he really was horrible? What if the stories about him were true and I’d invited a monster into my home?

The phone pinged again.

Callie

sorry Orbrey was with me so cuold’nt say anything before. Calra, give him a chance wont yuo this has reely noct him for six and hees such a sweethaert he reely is xx

I swallowed. It was as if she’d read my mind.

Clara

Of course I will. Fingers crossed we like each other xx

Another ping.

Callie

Yule love aech other! Yuor both fabbuluss xx