A Winter’s Tale: A festive winter read from the bestselling Queen of Christmas romance

‘But the treasures are just the recipes!’

She shrugged her plump shoulders. ‘Miss Hebe couldn’t even remember properly what Alys had written in the book because it was Ottie that had charge of the key to the box, and she’d rarely let her look at it. And when Ottie found out she’d told Jack, she was right mad! They haven’t spoken since—but then they were forever falling out, so that’s nothing new. When Ottie married the gardener they didn’t speak for five years, Hebe was that disgusted—only it was probably all down to jealousy because he was a fine figure of a man, though she’d never of married him herself, of course.’

‘You know, I thought they weren’t speaking. But how did Ottie find out that Hebe had talked to Jack about it in the first place?’

‘Because he tried pumping her about the book and got a right flea in his ear for his trouble. Ottie told him straight it was nothing to do with him.’

‘That explains a lot. I was surprised Jack knew about the book at all, when he came up to see me in Northumberland, but I can see now that of course its existence was bound to be generally known about within the family and copies of some of the recipes in circulation. But Aunt Ottie was right—the rest is no business of Jack’s.’

I got up. ‘I think I’ll just bring the rest of my bags in, then move the van round the back. It lowers the tone of the place, standing out there.’

‘You can park it in the courtyard or the barn, if you like,’ she said. ‘Leave your bags in the hall and Jonah will take them up for you. Your other stuff that came, we stored it in the attic nearest your old nursery. You remember where that is?’

‘Yes, Aunt Hebe showed me, but more and more is coming back to me anyway.’

‘Your mother’s things that were returned with her, they’re all in her old room—the Rose Bedroom. Mr William wouldn’t let us change a thing in there after you both ran off. It’s just the same as the day she left and it’s never been used for visitors.’

This was unexpected of Grandfather, and rather touching. And I’d never given a thought to what had happened to any of the luggage Mum took to America with her—but of course it would have been returned to Winter’s End.

‘I expect you’ll want to go down to the graveyard in a day or two, pay your respects,’ Mrs Lark suggested. ‘It’s got a nice stone angel—looks a bit like your mum did the last time I saw her. Mr William had fresh flowers sent down every week.’

‘Yes, I’ll do that,’ I said, getting up. ‘Thank you, Mrs Lark.’

‘Come back for a bit of tea later, if you want. If I’m not here, there’s parkin and gingerbread men I made special—they’re over there cooling on the rack.’

I ate one right there, hot and bendy though it was, and then, with Charlie still following me like a small shadow, I brought in the rest of my bags and piled them at the bottom of the staircase. Then I drove round the back, past the tower and through an arch into a flagged courtyard. A pair of doors opened onto a barn that already contained a battered sports car that I somehow knew was Ottie’s, and the Volvo estate that had been Grandfather’s. But there was still plenty of room, so I put the van in there and then walked out into the yard again.

One side of the courtyard was formed by the old coach house, now transformed into a home and studio in which, through a large glazed door standing ajar, despite the cold wind, I could see Aunt Ottie standing motionless in front of some monstrous shape, smoking a cheroot, her back to me.

I pushed open the door and went in. Without turning, she said: ‘Well, Sophy, what do you think?’

Chapter Nine: Lost in Translation (#ulink_fe1f3571-5601-5957-b6f1-6c01eb010156)

Tomorrow I will be marryed. Fond though I am of Thomas, to embrace him will be to embrace death itself—yet there is no escape. I look to the future and see only dark shadows closing in on mee.

I asked one bride gift only—that my mother’s maid, Joan, be sent for, since my father hath turned her off, and this boon was granted to mee. Though seemingly a simple creature, she is of our old ways and was devoted to my mother. She brought with her my mother’s household book, which I mean to continue with, and some other things I have hid to be safe.