I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day - Milly Johnson Page 0,55

if things went awry.’

‘Maybe Mary could be the murderer though,’ said Luke. ‘Has anyone thought of that?’

Mary appeared at the bottom of the staircase and everyone fell into a semi-awkward silence, as happens when the subject of conversation unexpectedly turns up.

‘We were just saying,’ said Robin, eventually cracking the ice of hush that had formed over them, ‘it really is like being in an Agatha Christie story. All of us here, marooned together. Just like Charlie said yester—’ He stopped to think, patting his lip with his finger. ‘Was it only yesterday that we came here? Feels so much longer.’

‘Time flies when you’re enjoying yourself, doesn’t it, Bridge?’ said Luke, turning to her for affirmation.

‘Oh yes, the hours are simply zooming by,’ replied Bridge snarkily.

‘Well, here’s my sock,’ said Mary, placing it on the hearth. It was long and red. Part of a pair she’d brought to go under her new red boots, which were destined for a refund. She’d never wear them anyway, she’d always be reminded of this failed trip and she didn’t want any memories of that going forward.

Radio Brian announced that he was signing off for an hour or so as he had to go and chop some logs for himself and Mrs Radio Brian, or Cath as she was better known to his regular fifteen listeners. But he was leaving his flock with some Christmas carols from the past.

‘He can hardly leave them from the future, can he?’ scoffed Bridge.

‘There might be no future,’ said Robin. ‘Looking out there, it would be easy to think the sun has died. Maybe we’re all starring in a real disaster movie. The Christmas Armageddon.’

‘The Apocalypso Carol,’ said Luke, playing a riff on some imaginary drums. ‘Ba-dum tish. Right, I’m going for my sock.’

‘I’ll come up with you,’ said Jack.

‘I might as well get ours,’ added Robin, attempting to heave himself out of the comfort of the armchair. Having only just sat down, he found himself reluctant to leave it. Bridge held out her hand to help him up.

‘I’d better go and get mine too,’ she said.

She and Robin followed the others, leaving Charlie and Mary alone. He looked at her intently and smiled.

‘You know, don’t you?’ he said.

‘Know what, Charlie?’

‘About me. It was how you handed over the tablets to me this morning, with that lovely smile, but it was powered by forced cheer.’

Mary opened her mouth to deny it, but she knew she wasn’t a good liar.

‘My dad was on the same medication,’ she said instead. ‘As soon as I saw the name on the bottle, I knew, yes.’

Charlie nodded slowly. ‘I intend to have a wonderful Christmas Day and make some memories for Robin to keep,’ he said and leaned in close. ‘To be honest, it was Robin’s idea to go to Aviemore, not mine, but I couldn’t spoil it for him by saying I wasn’t that keen. He wanted to push the boat out. I just wanted some snow and I was going to hire a machine to make it and blow it all over the garden.’ His blue-grey eyes sparkled, reflecting the firelight. ‘I’m having the most perfect time here with everyone. It’s people more than places that give the greatest happiness.’

‘Good. And you’re right,’ said Mary and when Charlie’s hand reached out to hers, she took it, felt him squeeze her fingers hard as if transmitting feelings he couldn’t – or didn’t want to – put into words.

‘Did… did the pills work for your father?’ Charlie asked then.

‘Right to the end,’ she answered him honestly. ‘There was no sudden decline. He went to bed after watching the last-ever episode of a box set he’d enjoyed, he had a belly full of fish and chips, chocolate fudge cake and his usual big brandy and he… never woke up.’

‘Ah. I’m sorry for asking.’

‘I don’t mind, really,’ returned Mary.

‘I want to make it easy on Robin when I go, you see,’ said Charlie. ‘I don’t want him to be traumatised.’

‘He will be anyway, Charlie. Because he loves you.’

Charlie sighed in understanding, and let go of Mary’s hand, aware that he was in danger of cutting off her blood supply. It was the letting go of Robin that concerned him most. He knew he’d hurt.

‘I hope you find your Captain Wentworth in life, my little Anne Elliot,’ said Charlie. ‘The good ones are always worth waiting for.’

There comes a point where hanging on becomes wasting your life, though, thought Mary, just as Jack appeared at the bottom