‘Oh, I am looking forward to it,’ she said with feeling. ‘It will do us good to meet some new people, and Hilaria is such a wonderful hostess. I dare say my mother will be furious that we’re not spending Christmas with her this year, but we’ll just have to make it up to her.’
He fumbled over fastening the suitcase. Angela’s mother had died shortly after the war, but he knew better than to contradict her; these sharp reminders of a reality that now ebbed and flowed only made her anxious and less self-assured than ever, and more often than not he colluded in keeping them at bay. ‘I’m sure she’ll forgive us,’ he said. ‘Now, let me bring these downstairs while you go and make us some tea.’
‘And we’ll have some of Mrs Curtis’s Christmas cake,’ Angela said. ‘We might as well cut it now, as we’re going to be away.’
‘Perfect. I’ll be down in a minute.’ She left him to it, and Richard noticed the sudden emptiness that he had felt more acutely of late whenever she left the room – and, occasionally, even when she was at his side. As the older of the two, he had always assumed that he would be the first to go and he had worried about how she would cope without him; now, he faced a different sort of loneliness, and he wondered again if he had the strength. The air in the room was chilly, and he got up to close the curtains against the draught. Already, the waves were high up the beach, and he never ceased to marvel at how quickly the water covered the causeway once the tide had turned. He waited until the last glimpse of the cobbles had disappeared, transforming the Mount once more into an island, familiar but unreachable, then went downstairs to be with his wife.
CHRISTMAS EVE
1
‘Happy Christmas.’
The station platform was so tightly packed with Christmas Eve travellers that Josephine hadn’t seen Marta fighting her way through the crowds. She turned and gave her lover a hug, shivering as the snow on Marta’s coat and hair touched her face. ‘Happy Christmas. I was beginning to think you’d had a better offer.’
Marta waited to catch her breath. ‘It’s bedlam out there. Nothing’s moving. I’m only here now because the taxi driver ditched his cab on Craven Road and helped me with my bags.’
‘I hope you tipped him.’
‘The fare cost more than the hotel room, but it was worth it.’ She smiled, and squeezed Josephine’s hand in the crush. ‘Typical. You’re on the sleeper from Inverness and I’m five minutes round the corner, and still I’ve kept you waiting.’
‘It doesn’t matter. As you can see, no one’s going anywhere in a hurry.’ She looked round as the crowds continued to spill into Paddington, some taking the crush in good heart as part of the holiday mood, others frustrated by the threat to their plans. The Cornish Riviera Express had laid on three extra trains to cope with the pressures of Christmas Eve, made worse by the heavy snowfalls of the previous week which had forced many travellers to delay their journey or choose the train over a perilous drive out of London. Now, an air of suppressed panic had begun to take hold as people imagined the empty places around the dinner table and the presents left unopened, and Josephine was glad that their reservations were for the first scheduled train, before the chaos had a chance to build. ‘We could just stay here,’ she suggested, watching as an angry couple stopped an already overburdened porter and added more luggage to his trolley. ‘I fancy a quiet Christmas, with just the two of us. No house parties, no strangers, no awkward parlour games.’ She smiled at Marta and shrugged. ‘After all, if the trains aren’t running, there’s really nothing we can do.’
‘But the trains are running, and Archie would never forgive us. He’s promised we’ll be there, and then there’s his big surprise …’ The shrill sound of a whistle cut through the noise and Josephine’s fate was sealed as the passengers for the Cornwall train were encouraged to start boarding. ‘Anyway, it’s not just Archie who’s made plans,’ Marta called back over her shoulder as they forced their way to their carriage. ‘I’ve had your present sent on ahead.’
‘That was uncharacteristically organised of you.’
‘Perhaps I’m turning over a new leaf.’
‘Not too new, I hope.’
The train settled down quickly and Josephine glanced round the carriage, pleased that fate had seated them with other couples who seemed content to keep themselves to themselves. ‘I suppose some of our fellow guests might be on here somewhere,’ she said.
‘How many people are going?’
‘About a dozen, I think, including us. I’ve got the details here somewhere, and a copy for you, too.’ She searched through her bag for the letter from Hilaria which had arrived by special delivery before she left Inverness, a short note of welcome accompanied by a brief history of St Michael’s Mount and a list of those coming for Christmas. ‘Right – Detective Chief Inspector Archie Penrose and guest.’ She rolled her eyes, and Marta laughed. ‘I really don’t know why they’re stringing the suspense out like this. It’s going to be very embarrassing when the big reveal comes and none of us have ever heard of her.’
‘We can but hope,’ Marta said, reading quickly through her letter. ‘I see what Archie meant by the company being dull, though. The Reverend Richard and Mrs Angela Hartley, Colonel Arthur Penhaligon and Miss Barbara Penhaligon …’
‘Daughter, presumably.’
‘Or sister. Either way, God and the military round the dinner table doesn’t sound like my idea of fun.’
‘No, nor mine.’ Josephine scanned the list, trying to find some common ground in the names. ‘Mr and Mrs Gerald Lancaster—’
‘I’ve never liked anyone called Gerald,’ Marta interrupted, ‘but there’s an Alex Fielding from The Times. He might be interesting.’
‘Yes, if a little intrusive. I’m not sure I like the idea of a journalist hovering round all weekend.’
‘I wouldn’t worry. He won’t be remotely interested in us once Archie arrives with his “guest”. Have we missed anyone?’
‘Only Mrs Carmichael. No other information supplied.’
Marta smiled. ‘Thirteen at dinner, then, if you include our hostess. That bodes well. I hope nobody’s superstitious.’ She took off her coat as the train pulled slowly out of the station, glad to be warm at last. ‘You say Archie’s a friend of the family?’
‘That’s right. He and Hilaria are roughly of an age, so they were children together at the same dull, grown-up parties, and they’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s often in London.’
‘Which is how you know her.’
‘I wouldn’t say I know her. Archie had to remind me that we’d met, but I do remember finding her interesting. I think you’ll like her.’
‘The paper said she was connected to a lot of charities. Just how much of a do-gooder is she?’
Josephine laughed at the horror on Marta’s face. ‘I don’t think we’ll be forced onto too many committees, if that’s what you mean. It’s going to take more than a well-intentioned coffee morning to solve this particular problem.’ The early edition of The Times did nothing to curb her pessimism. She flicked through the first few pages, stopping at a photograph of Hitler leaving for Christmas at Berchtesgaden, having just had dinner with the seven thousand workmen building the new Reich Chancellery. ‘Money will decide who wins the war,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I just hope we’re up to it.’