I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day - Milly Johnson Page 0,60

‘What about the stocking-filling procedure?’

‘Has everyone got their presents organised?’ This from Bridge.

A chorus of ‘yes’.

Mary tore a page from her writing pad, ripped it into six strips, wrote on them.

‘Okay. Each of these has a time on it, five minutes apart, commencing in ten minutes. Pick one and don’t be late or you could end up revealing your identity.’

They waited for Jack to come back and then Charlie chose first.

‘Isn’t this exciting?’ he said. ‘I can’t remember having a Christmas where I smiled as much as I am now.’

‘Oh, thanks very much,’ said Robin with a tut.

‘You know what I mean,’ said Charlie, giving him a playful tap on the arm.

‘Here’s hoping you have many more, then,’ said Bridge. ‘I mean the smiling part, not the being trapped in an old pub with a bunch of strangers part.’

‘I hope so too,’ said Charlie, with a soft smile.

Robin turned away, picked up the poker and started prodding the half-burnt logs. ‘Don’t want these falling out and causing a disaster,’ he said. Mary recognised that look on his face, when you felt yourself slipping as you tried so hard to be brave. She knew that Robin must be mentally exhausted and probably physically too, as dreams would kill the quality of his sleep, propelling him to a fearful consciousness when he needed most of all to gain strength through rest.

‘First up gets everyone else up,’ said Luke. ‘To make sure everyone does come downstairs at the same time. I can’t believe I’m so excited about all this.’

‘You need to get out more,’ said Bridge, even though she knew what he meant. He was just making the best of their enforced circumstances, as she was. But Ben would be fretting about her, because that’s what he did and she wished there was some way to let him know she really was all right. On a more practical level, she needed to go upstairs to wash some pants so she had a clean pair for the morning.

‘What time does everyone want to rise?’ asked Jack.

‘Don’t make it too early, we aren’t five,’ said Bridge.

‘Shall we say not before nine, then?’ suggested Mary.

‘Perfecto,’ said Charlie.

They filed upstairs, issuing goodnights like a festive version of The Waltons. Bridge checked the piece of paper that had her stocking-stuffing time on it. She had fifteen minutes to do her little bit of laundry.

‘I’ve got loads of spare pants if you need them,’ Mary offered when she realised what Bridge was doing in the sink. ‘I always pack too many. Seven pairs for an overnight stay.’ She didn’t say that one of those pairs cost thirty pounds and were silk and she wanted to wear them for dinner with Jack in the Tynehall Country Hotel in the hope they’d make her feel sexy and seductive ‘from the fuff up’ as her sister Maggie would have said. She’d probably never wear them now. She had no occasion to and by the time she did have, at this rate, they’d have disintegrated.

‘Thanks for the offer but it’s no trouble. So long as the radiator works some magic and dries them for me.’

Mary put her hand on it; it could have been warmer.

‘Stupid me,’ she said then and pulled her handbag over. ‘Why didn’t I think…’

She took something out of a side compartment and started fiddling with the radiator.

‘What are you doing, Mary?’ asked Bridge.

‘I’m bleeding it,’ came the reply.

‘You carry a radiator bleeding key around with you?’ asked Bridge.

‘I’ve got all sorts in my handbag,’ said Mary. ‘Scissors, screwdriver, sewing kit… You just never know, do you.’

A sister soul, Bridge thought. Between them, they probably had enough tools to build and plumb an extension to the inn.

‘Ah, listen to that lovely hiss.’

The radiator gave a satisfying long, slow fart of air. ‘That’s it,’ Mary patted it as if it were a pet. ‘It’s heating up properly now. I’ll go around the house and do the others in the morning. Then again, it’s nice to be chilly enough for us to want to huddle around the fire isn’t it?’

Bridge wrung out her pants and then draped them over the radiator.

‘You don’t mind them being here do you?’ she asked Mary.

‘Why should I?’ Mary assured her. ‘If it doesn’t sound a bit weird, they’re beautiful pants.’

‘La Perla,’ said Bridge. ‘Ridiculously expensive. Something I never thought I’d be able to afford, but I can now, so extravagant lingerie is my go-to indulgence.’

‘Mine would be handbags,’ said Mary. ‘I’ve always wanted a Coco Chanel