Page 35 of The Secret Christmas Library

For the second time that afternoon, Mirren let out an enormous yelp.

Jamie had come in so quietly and stealthily that she hadn’t even seen him.

Night had descended as she’d become engrossed in the letters, across half a century; the very human pain and yearning written in them, as one might write a feverish Facebook post. Although that would be seen by everyone, and this had just been for one person.

And then they had been left here, on purpose, a trail of breadcrumbs, leading straight to his bed.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ repeated the voice. Standing at the end of the bed, like a wraith conjured from the dark, was the tall figure of Jamie, holding his own candlestick.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Mirren. ‘Don’t do that! You look like you’re going to show me Christmas Past! You should creak on purpose. No, then that would make you a ghost . . . ’

Jamie frowned, not listening to her babbling nervously. ‘Why are you in my grandfather’s bed?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Mirren, carefully setting the book and the letters aside and remembering where she was. ‘Um . . . because it’s freezing?’

‘But that’s his bed!’

She jumped up and got out. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, looking around at its messy state, slightly ashamed of herself now. ‘I’m sorry . . . I was so cold, and it . . . it was the only cosy bed I’ve seen in this place.’

Jamie blinked.

‘You should have said “no getting in anybody’s bed”,’ said Mirren, going on the offensive, because she was feeling guilty. ‘I didn’t think anyone would mind.’

‘It’s really weird,’ said Jamie, backing down a bit.

‘Not as weird as you creeping up on me.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Jamie, looking at his feet. ‘I know where the creaks are I suppose; years of practice. Not that I was ever in here very much.’ He moved over to the windows. ‘Ach, it’s a hoolie out there,’ he said, then glanced back.

‘I’m really sorry,’ said Mirren. ‘I realise this is your family.’

‘Och, no, you’re alright,’ he said. ‘What does it matter, really?’

‘It does matter,’ said Mirren. ‘I shouldn’t have done it. I should have come immediately, as soon as I found it.’

Jamie’s face lit up as she proudly held up the book. ‘No way!’ He dashed across the floor.

‘Hang on, hang on, hang on,’ she said. ‘Be careful. It’s fragile and there’s a lot in it. We need to take it down to the kitchen and get as much light as possible and all look at it together.’

Suddenly his head was very close to hers as he peered at it.

‘Did you think of that too?’ he said, sounding impressed. ‘That if it was a love story he’d want it near to him?’

‘Why – is that why you came over here?’

‘Yeah, it occurred to me. I thought, if it’s something personal . . . Plus I got to the servants’ rooms and he’d obviously never been in one of those, so it got a bit pointless. Well, anyway, we ended up in the same place.’

‘Apart from the getting-into-bed bit.’

‘No, no, now I think that that was quite sensible.’

In the dark, the only sound the pair of them breathing, they both stood stock-still.

The moon shone a faint bifurcated light through the huge windows; the snow kept on falling.

They breathed in and out. So close, and so close to the fading warmth of the bed.

Mirren held the book, full of passion and longing between its sheets, real and imaginary, both loves gone; and her fingers, in the dark, brushed Jamie’s long ones, and his fingertips found hers.

Would he be cruel, she found herself thinking, as his grandfather was accused of being?

And then a thought to make her blush: would she mind if he was?

‘It’s not just the book,’ she said. ‘There’s something inside it.’

‘Really?’ said Jamie, turning round to face her and get a better look at it.

‘Yes. Loads of stuff.’

‘YOAH! HULLLOOOOOOOOO!’

There was a thundering noise suddenly outside the door Jamie had left open.

‘I’M BORED, IT’S FREEZING AND MY CANDLE WENT OUT! WHERE IS EVERYONE?’

‘Ah, your boyfriend,’ said Jamie, taking a step back.

‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ said Mirren, rather more decisively than she’d intended, in a way that made him look at her, with a gaze she could not read.

Theo poked his head around the door. ‘Bloody hell, if I were a zillionaire robber baron who’d made my pile off the back of slavery cotton and other people’s bloody money, do you know where I’d build my castle?

THE SOUTH OF FRANCE. What are you two up to?

’ He blinked and looked at the unmade bed. ‘Oh, excuse me.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Theo, and get your mind out of the gutter; this is the old laird’s room,’ said Mirren, flushing.

‘You’re right,’ said Theo. ‘We’ve only been looking for two hours; that wouldn’t even be enough time to undo all the buttons on the nine layers of clothes you’re wearing.’

She gave him a look.

‘I’d still have a go, though, obviously.’

‘Actually, we found something.’

‘Mirren found something,’ said Jamie, gallantly.

‘Oh, thank Christ,’ said Theo. ‘Can I go and sit on the Aga? Or, possibly, in it?’