I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day - Milly Johnson Page 0,58

hoped it would be okay.

‘I must warn you, I was captain of the school team,’ said Jack.

Mary checkmated him within fifteen moves.

Chapter 19

‘I can’t believe this is Christmas Eve,’ said Robin who was sitting next to the fire, toasting marshmallows on the large fork. ‘Charlie, what in God’s name are you doing?’ He watched as Charlie dropped a maraschino cherry into his hot chocolate.

‘It’s a Black Forest special,’ he replied. ‘Stop worrying. There’s no cholesterol in cherries.’

‘Smile, everyone,’ said Luke, lifting up his phone and taking a selfie of them all sitting around the fire with their hot chocolates and faces glowing from the light of the flames. He snapped, preserving them in a perfect smiling shot that oozed cosiness. He wished he could send it to Carmen to show her he was okay, wished he could talk to her and make sure she was okay too. It felt a very long time since he last saw her.

‘In a weird way, I’m actually looking forward to tomorrow,’ said Bridge. ‘I think it’ll be fun.’

‘What were your original plans?’ asked Robin.

‘Just spending it alone,’ said Bridge, quickly adding, ‘I mean, the two of us alone, obviously. Ben’s a great cook.’

‘You obviously have a type, then,’ said Luke with a wink.

‘Oh purr-lease,’ returned Bridge. ‘I remember when you thought a lentil was a support for a door hole.’

‘Well there’s nothing we can do about not being where we should be, so I suppose we should make the best of it,’ said Robin, passing around the plate of toasted marshmallows.

‘I bet we wouldn’t have had these in Aviemore,’ said Charlie.

‘You’d have been chucked out of the hotel if you’d started putting cherries in your hot drinks. Whatever next? Tangerines in your cappuccino? Dates in your lapsang souchong?’

Charlie shuddered. ‘Ugh, don’t be disgusting, Robin.’ Then he bit down on a marshmallow and chewed it blissfully.

‘Top hot chocolate, Jack,’ said Bridge. ‘Perfect, in fact.’

‘Oh… oh, thank you, do… do you think so? Really?’ said Jack and beamed bashfully. ‘I was always the one who had to make them for others at St Christopher’s because they said I got them so on point.’

‘Were you someone’s fag?’ asked Robin.

‘Yes, I was,’ said Jack, sounding proud of it. ‘Nothing sinister. In the first year, you were sort of expected to be a bit of a servant for the older boys. I ran a few errands and made a hell of lot of hot chocolates. The boy I fagged for was a thoroughly nice chap, government minister’s son. He gave me thirty pounds at the end of each term. I rather enjoyed it, felt quite honoured actually.’ The nostalgic smile on his face reflected that.

Bridge studied him. Unlike the others who’d been the same since the moment when she’d first met them, Jack had changed. He’d started to drop his astute businessman’s guard and was letting them peep at the man behind the mask, one who probably hadn’t had a lot of personal compliments, judging by how he handled someone saying he made a good hot chocolate. He had impeccable manners, she liked that in a man, and was full of small considerations like banking up the fire more than anyone else, making sure everyone was served before himself when they ate and drank. And when he spoke to someone, he gave them his full attention, she’d noticed. All telling, positive traits. He was still a posh twit mind you; though she’d demoted him from posh twat.

‘Deliciously frothy, with just the right amount of chocolate. Neither too runny nor too thick.’ Luke appraised it as if he were a wine connoisseur.

‘Hear hear,’ said Charlie. ‘Would be very nice with a splash of rum in it.’

‘Cherries and rum?’ said Robin, throwing him a look. ‘Revolting.’

They sat and sipped, while in the background Radio Brian, returned from his log-chopping, was playing some wonderfully festive Renaissance music. He’d made them all splutter their hot chocolates by announcing that he ‘had been first gripped by the madrigals at the Cambridge Folk Festival’.

‘Wonder if that had anything to do with his teeth falling out?’ asked Bridge, adding to the hilarity and Luke was reminded of what a quick wit she had, every bit a match for his. She’d made him laugh a lot, as well as cry, scream and punch walls.

‘I for one can’t wait for Luke’s crackers,’ said Mary. ‘I could hear him giggling to himself as he made them.’

‘They are really good, if I say so myself,’ said Luke, taking the opportunity