Page 71 of Mirrors of the Past

Fabian nodded his agreement and poured a glass, and Laurie twiddled with the annoying shirt cuff again — the sleeve was far too long and far too flouncy for his liking, and would definitely be more suited to a romantic hero such as Byron or Keats or Shelley. Then he paused for a moment and a plan began to formulate and then crystallise in his mind . . .

‘Actually, old man, you could help me,’ he said to Fabian.

‘Fire away. Anything at all. Just ask.’

So Laurie did.

* * *

It was Christmas Eve! The most magical day of the year, as far as Viola was concerned. Obviously, when she was younger, she much preferred Christmas Day, with all the food and the gifts and the music and the company . . . But as an adult, and, more specifically, an aunt ensconced for a few days among four small nieces and nephews, she was far more aware of how special Christmas Eve actually was.

That was the day the tree went up — or rather the trees, plural — at Elton Lacy, because there was one in the hallway, one in the morning room, one in the dining room, one in the nursery . . . the whole day seemed a mess of greenery and candles and baubles, and then it was story time for the children as they imagined a world inhabited by dancing sugar-plums, miniature reindeer and a jolly old fellow called St Nicholas coming to call on them at midnight. That book had been rapidly pulled off the nursery bookshelf, to replace the story Viola had originally begun to tell them, as The Snow Queen had resulted in four pairs of eyes getting rounder and rounder, and then wails of horror at the fact the little boy was trapped with the evil queen and bad things were happening.

Viola was appalled. She had never been scared of the story like that, but then she’d certainly not been as sensitive a child as these four treasures seemed to be.

She must have been an awful, awful little girl!

After the story — the nice story — there were some slight tantrums by the twins as they found that their stockings were not hung up on the fireplace in exactly the same way, so that had to be rectified before they were chased good-naturedly off to bed by Sam, who then had to prance around the night nursery reciting, ‘“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on Cupid! on Donner and Blitzen!”’ as the children clapped along in time.

When they had finally been settled and had asked for the fifth time would Father Christmas land on the roof atop of their nursery, Viola was relieved to back out of the night nursery with her brother, and leave Pearl and Ernie in there to give final kisses before they all went to Pencradoc for midnight mass.

‘Jeepers,’ Viola said to Sam as he helped her on with her heavy winter coat. ‘How do parents deal with small people?’

‘Practice, I guess,’ he said with a laugh. ‘What are you betting that it’s chaos at Pencradoc as well?’

‘I shall bet the coal from my Christmas stocking.’ She grinned. ‘I think I’m probably on the naughty list, so I don’t expect anything else in there. Anyway, it’s just Marigold, so it’ll be a little calmer I think — unless Enyon and Arthur have wound her as tight as a bobbin, of course.’

‘They may have done. But hopefully it’ll be the older people at midnight mass, so we may escape the worst of it.’

‘Hopefully.’ They made their way outside and were soon joined by Pearl and Ernie as they waited for the carriage that would take them to Pencradoc. When it finally came to the door, Viola gasped with delight as even the carriage and the horses had been decorated festively.

‘Oh, Pearl! This is your doing. It has to be!’ she said in delight, fingering the tiny sleigh bells and ivy wound around the door handles.

‘It most certainly is.’ Pearl smiled. ‘I’ve heard that there could be snow tonight, so I thought what better way to travel than in a fine-and-dandy Christmas carriage.’

‘My car,’ muttered Ernie. ‘It would get us there more quickly.’

‘But would it really?’ asked Pearl. ‘And could four of us fit in it comfortably? Perhaps not, darling.’

Ernie, knowing the truth of her statement, said nothing and tucked his chin further into his overcoat. Viola hid a smile. She knew how proud Ernie was of his car, but she too could see the logic — and the magic — of travelling in that beautiful carriage on Christmas Eve.

Eagerly, she clambered in and made space for Pearl to sit next to her, while the men sat opposite. And with a lurch and a clip-clop of hooves — but perhaps not the “prancing and pawing of each little hoof” the children might have been waiting for — they were on their way to Pencradoc!

‘Oh!’ As they headed down the well-lit drive — because, again, someone had had the foresight to put lanterns on the driveway — Viola saw some small flakes of snow begin drifting into the lamplight. Not enough to cover the ground yet, perhaps, because the little flakes were melting onto the surface of the driveway, but, of course she was hopeful that it would settle tonight and complete the magic.

No. Actually, that would not complete the magic.

Something else would — her secret Christmas wish. It seemed foolish now she was an adult, yet . . .

Pearl leaned over to her and whispered. ‘It’s the first snowfall of the season — have you made your secret wish yet? Your heart’s desire wish?’

‘Honey, it snowed when I was in London,’ Viola replied. ‘So technically it’s not the first snowfall of the season for me.’ But still, she smiled out into the night.

‘But it’s the first snowfall of our season down here,’ said Pearl. Her hand crept over the seat and she took Viola’s and squeezed it. ‘You gotta try.’

Viola lied. ‘There’s nothing I really want to wish for.’

‘Sure there is,’ replied her sister. ‘I haven’t known you all your life to not know when you’re lying.’

Viola’s smile widened as she remembered someone else saying something similar about their sister. ‘Sure,’ she said mildly.

But she had to try. She actually, really had to try.

Didn’t she?

So she closed her eyes and she wished her wish.