The Mistletoe Seller: A heartwarming, romantic novel for Christmas from the Sunday Times bestseller

‘It seems that Juno has taken to you, girl. What’s your name?’

Her teeth were chattering so much that she could hardly speak. ‘Angel Winter, sir.’

A hint of a smile flickered across his face. ‘An angel has landed in our midst, dogs. What shall we do with her?’ His expression changed. ‘You must go home, Angel Winter. Where do you live?’

‘M-Mother J-Jolly’s dosshouse, sir. If you will give me sixpence for the mistletoe I can pay for one night’s lodging for me and Dolly. She’s very sick, sir. I fear she might die.’

‘What the hell is a child such as yourself doing in a place like that?’ He wrapped the red blanket around her shoulders. ‘You’d better come indoors while I decide what to do with you.’

The thick woollen cloth was still warm from contact with his body and it smelled of bay rum and cigars, bringing back memories of Uncle Joseph and her old home.

‘Thank you, sir, but I really must return to Monmouth Street.’

‘Monmouth Street? We’ll see about that. Come, dogs.’ He strode across the snow-covered courtyard and thrust the door open. ‘Don’t dawdle, child. Follow me.’ He stepped inside. ‘Baines, where are you? Come here, man.’

Juno nudged Angel’s hand with her velvety head and the two dogs followed their master into the house. Angel hesitated, but large flakes of snow were spiralling to the ground, and the warmth of the blanket was too comforting to surrender lightly. Her options were limited and surely someone who was kind to animals could not be all bad? She plucked up the courage to go inside.

The entrance hall was dark and cool, with a flagstone floor, oak wainscoting and a beamed ceiling. The gloomy atmosphere was far from welcoming, and Angel was nervous. She came to a halt.

‘Who are you, sir?’

‘What is that to do with you, child?’ He laid the whip on the carved top of an oak chest and took off his hat. His hair was dark and straight and it came to his shoulders, giving him the look of a tragic poet, but his military bearing and weathered features were those of a man used to command.

‘What’s up, Colonel?’ A man who appeared suddenly from the depths of the house came towards them wiping his large bony hands on a hessian apron covered with chicken feathers. ‘I was just plucking a nice fat capon when you called, sir.’

‘Take this child to the kitchen, Baines. Give her something to eat while I decide what to do with her.’

Baines glared at Angel beneath shaggy sandy eyebrows. ‘Who have we here, then, sir?’

‘Her name, it seems, is Angel Winter and she was set upon by a band of youths who stole her purse.’

‘I’d send her home, sir. Not wanting to tell you what to do, as it were, but nippers this age are nothing but lies and trouble.’

‘I’m not a liar,’ Angel protested. ‘I wanted to go, but he wouldn’t let me.’

‘Watch your tongue, nipper. That is Colonel Sir Adolphus Grantley you’re speaking of, and if he says you’re to stay here a while, then that’s what you’ll do. Come with me, and none of your lip.’

‘Take Thor and Juno with you, Baines. I’ll be in my study.’ Sir Adolphus walked away, leaving Angel with the disapproving Baines and the greyhounds for company.

Baines ambled off with a decided limp and the dogs followed him, leaving Angel little alternative other than to follow him too. The long passages were poorly lit and smelled damp and musty, but Angel was past worrying about such details. All she could think of was Dolly and the desperate need of a shilling to pay Mother Jolly for two nights’ lodgings. She was too cold and exhausted to worry about her empty belly, but when she walked into a kitchen the aroma of something savoury bubbling away on the range made her stomach rumble. Juno and Thor went to lie together on a pile of blankets in the inglenook, and Baines motioned Angel to take a seat at the pine table in the centre of the room. She sank down on the nearest chair. Outside the window feathery snowflakes clung briefly to the diamond-shaped panes and then melted and trickled down the glass like tears.

‘I have to go soon,’ Angel said firmly. ‘It’s very kind of Sir Adolphus to invite me in, but the boys will have gone now, and I need to get back to the lodging house. My friend Dolly’s life depends on me bringing home the money to pay Mother Jolly. You must understand that, Mr Baines.’

‘Sergeant Baines to you, girl.’ Baines filled a bowl with soup thickened with lentils and floury dumplings. ‘Here, get that down you. I seen healthier-looking corpses than you.’

Angel did not argue. She spooned the herb-flavoured potage into her mouth, burning her tongue in the process, but it tasted good and she felt the warmth of it seeping through her veins, bringing life back to her chilled body.

Baines resumed his position by the back door, sitting on a stool as he finished plucking the chicken. ‘There’s more in the pot, if you’re still hungry,’ he said grinning. ‘You polished that off quicker than old Thor, and he’s a fast eater.’

‘It was very tasty. Thank you.’

He wiped his nose on the back of his hand. ‘How has a well-spoken little miss like you landed up in such a fix?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Angel said wearily. ‘I’m very grateful for the food and the chance to get warm, but please let me go, Sergeant Baines.’ She fingered the ring hanging round her neck on Aunt Cordelia’s gold chain. Until now she had resisted the temptation to pawn it, knowing that she would never be able to redeem the only thing that connected her to her mother, but Dolly’s life hung in the balance, and there was no choice.

‘Why the hurry? The master won’t let you go unless he thinks you’ll be safe. He’s like that.’

‘I have to get to the pawnshop before it closes. If I can’t pay Mother Jolly we’ll be thrown out on the street, and I’m in desperate need of a pair of boots.’

Baines tossed the last of the feathers out onto the snow and closed the door. ‘Come with me, nipper. You’ll have to tell that to the Colonel. He’s a good man.’

Sir Adolphus was standing with his back to the fire in the book-lined study. ‘I thought I told you to keep her in the kitchen, Baines.’

‘She needs to get to a pawnshop, Colonel. I’d be inclined to ask her where she got a valuable ring from. The police might be interested in this young lady.’

‘Leave us, Baines. Bring me coffee and some hot milk for our fallen angel.’

Baines shuffled from the room with a grunt, closing the door behind him.

‘I didn’t steal it,’ Angel said angrily. She hooked her finger round the chain and showed him the ruby ring. ‘This is mine. It was left with me when I was abandoned as a baby. Aunt Cordelia gave me the chain, and I wouldn’t part with it unless I was desperate, which I am. Please let me go, sir. I fear for my friend’s life if she doesn’t get some food inside her and some medicine.’

He sat down in a leather wing-back chair by the fire. ‘Are you expecting me to believe such a cock-and-bull tale?’

‘I swear it’s the truth.’ Angel tucked the ring back inside her torn blouse. ‘It’s all I have of my mother’s, Colonel. I’ve never stolen anything in my life.’

He was silent for a moment, staring at her with an unreadable expression. ‘For some reason I believe you, girl.’ He held out his hand. ‘Let me see the ring, if you please.’

Reluctantly Angel unhooked the chain and laid the ring on his palm. He examined it, holding it up to the firelight with a critical eye. ‘I’m no expert, but I’d say these are fine stones – worth quite a lot of money, I should imagine. Fetch me the magnifying glass off my desk. I’d like to take a closer look.’

Angel did as he asked and he studied the ring, turning it round in his fingers until Angel could have screamed with frustration.

He looked up. ‘Did you know there are initials engraved on the inner edge of the ring?’

‘No, sir.’

‘And you don’t know who your parents were?’

‘No, sir. I was found in Angel Court, Whitechapel on Christmas Eve twelve years ago. I was just a few weeks old. They named me Angel Winter.’

‘An apt name, indeed. I was going to send you back to the lodging house with enough money to keep you and your sick friend for a week or two, but I’ve changed my mind. You obviously came from a good family, Angel Winter. I’m intrigued, and that doesn’t happen very often.’

‘What are the markings, sir?’ Angel asked eagerly. Any link with her real mother would be wonderful.

‘J E M,’ he said, peering through the magnifying glass. ‘Does that mean anything to you?’

‘No, sir. I know nothing of my true identity.’

‘A mystery, indeed. However, I can’t allow you to pawn the only thing that connects you to your real mother, and a pawnbroker would give you just a fraction of its worth.’