Page 13 of The Secret Christmas Library

'So, my grandfather . . . ’

‘What was his name?’ asked Mirren. Theo and Jamie just looked at her.

‘Well, James, duh,’ said Theo.

‘Stop doing this,’ said Mirren. ‘Duhhing me every time I don’t know some stupid posh-people code thing. I don’t even want to be in the posh Olympics, so you can just stop duhhing me about it.’ And she stuck her tongue out at him.

Jamie laughed. ‘You are completely right,’ he said.

‘Yes, point taken,’ said Theo, slightly reluctantly.

‘What was he like?’ asked Mirren. ‘Your grandfather?’

Jamie smiled. ‘Complicated, the obituaries said. Crotchety. Obsessed with books and puzzles and crosswords. He could be kind, I think. But he just withdrew into himself. I don’t know if anyone ever reached him, not really.

I mean, I don’t know how well we ever know our grandparents as people . . . Well, that’s what I tell myself.’

‘Did he die here?’

Jamie nodded sadly. ‘He stopped taking his medication. Went out one night into the fields and died of exposure. Bonnie found . . . ’ He stopped talking.

‘Oh, goodness!’ said Mirren. ‘That’s tragic!’

‘He was old and sick,’ said Jamie. ‘I don’t know if . . . well. I don’t know. We never will.’

Theo blinked. ‘Bloody hell.’ He looked around. ‘He never met anyone after his marriage broke up? There must have been some rich American heiress . . . ’

Jamie shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Gay?’

‘You’re talking about my grandfather!’

‘You’re right,’ said Theo. ‘Nobody ever had a gay grandfather.’

‘Theo!’ said Mirren.

‘What?’ said Theo. ‘It’s not an insult.’

‘No, but it’s personal.’

Jamie was looking very awkward suddenly. ‘Um,’ he said, ‘I think he was just . . . I don’t know. But I don’t think so. I think he was just a bit odd, which is why . . . ’ He opened one of the ancient kitchen cupboards. It was filled to the brim with books on water divining.

‘God,’ said Theo. ‘Mind you, you wouldn’t think that would stop those determined heiresses.’

‘Stop it!’ said Mirren. ‘What’s in the envelope, Jamie??’

He was still tapping the envelope thoughtfully. Carefully he wiped his hands on a clean dishcloth that was over the back of the chair. Then he pulled out a folded sheet of heavy paper from the envelope.

‘He left this.’

Mirren and Theo got up and stood behind him and read it over his shoulder, as behind them in the fields a lone gull cut through the penny-bright air.

To my heir,

Down these paths we all must tread,

There hides a precious book, unread;

At the star of neither land nor sea,

First take thy pen, go in, go see.

If you can bear to trace its line,

There it will be, now yours, once mine;

If you can understand, my friend,

Then time and tide must come to end.

The setting of the sun will show,

The ancient routes stand fast;

The saddest tale of woe is told,

When all the songs are past.

Then you must find a crown of gold,

And hopes will not be dashed;

Between the vellum sheets, dear James,

The answer shows at last.

They stared at it.

‘That’s it?’ said Mirren. ‘That’s all you have to go on?’

‘A precious book?’ said Theo, sizing up the situation and nodding seriously. ‘Among everything else.’

Jamie nodded. Theo looked around, his face doubtful.

‘Oh, my goodness,’ said Mirren. ‘Are you absolutely sure these aren’t just – I don’t know, poetic ramblings or something?’

‘Oh, no, he’d mentioned it before,’ said Jamie. ‘That there was an incredibly valuable book in the house. And I asked him what it was, when I was about eleven, and he said he couldn’t say, otherwise my mother would sell it and spend it on clothes.’

‘Harsh,’ said Mirren.

‘No, my mother would have sold it and spent it on clothes.’

‘What does the internet say?’ said Theo, taking out his phone.

‘Absolutely zero,’ said Jamie. ‘It talks about some old paintings we used to have, but that’s about it.

And before the war everything was carefully listed and written down by staff – how many bottles of Burgundy in the cellar, how many silver spoons, that kind of thing, and they kept all the receipts in account books.

But then that started to go by the by once they lost all their staff, and after that I don’t think my family kept receipts for anything.

My grandfather would sell a painting for cash at lunchtime and spend it by the afternoon. ’ He said this without bitterness.

‘I thought it was kind of an essential part of the job, to look after places like this for the next generation,’ said Mirren, gently, not wanting to speak ill of the dead.

‘I know,’ said Jamie. ‘I think he must have hoped I’d fix it.’ He opened his hands. ‘But I don’t know where to start.’

A broad beam of sun suddenly appeared behind a cloud, rendering the world dark and light all at once. Mirren couldn’t help it: she stood up, and walked to the kitchen door.

‘Can I . . .?’ She indicated outside.

Jamie shrugged. ‘Be my guest,’ he said, although, of course, she wasn’t a guest at all.