by Kirsty Ferry
Ailsa looked up and saw Ella standing in the doorway, half-in, half-out of the room.
‘Good afternoon.’ Ella’s voice was clear in the quiet room. She pressed her hands together in front of her skirt and smiled shyly at Ailsa.
‘Good afternoon.’ Ailsa smiled back, sitting up straighter. ‘Do you want a mince pie? They’re very nice. I might have to eat them all if you don’t.’
‘A mince pie? Oh – well. Maybe just one.’
‘Come in then.’
‘Thank you.’ Ella smiled again and stepped inside the room. She shut the door behind her and leaned on it for a moment. ‘You don’t mind me coming in and bothering you, do you?’ she asked, a flicker of concern passing over her lovely face. ‘It’s been a busy day. Lydia always keeps us busy, but you might not be used to it. So you can tell me to leave if you want. I know you’ve had a long journey down to us today, without all the skating and everything.’
‘Of course I don’t mind. It’s nice to see you. Please. Sit down. It’s more your house than mine anyway. You don’t have to ask my permission.’
Ailsa was conscious of Ella following her lips as she spoke and hoped she wasn’t talking too fast. She knew some basic sign language, thanks to courses through work, but, even though there was just the two of them there, she thought it might be a little rude to try and start a conversation she might end up unable to finish.
‘But it’s not really my house, although it’s always felt like mine. They make me very welcome. Lydia is like my sister. We bicker all the time but I love her dearly and I know she loves me. And Adam – well – Adam is … Adam.’ She dipped her head momentarily, but couldn’t hide the blush or the little smile from Ailsa. Ella looked back up, composing her expression into a more serious one. ‘He’s going away after Christmas and I’ll miss him a great deal. We both will. He has to travel a lot for his business, and Lydia hates being alone. My aunt died recently and I’ve been here more or less constantly ever since.
‘Lydia has said I can stay on as long as I want, but I know I’ll have to go to my real home at some point. I’m supposed to live at York.’ She pulled a face, the serious expression disappearing. She wasn’t a girl, Ailsa had now realised, who could be too serious for too long; images of her misbehaving on the ice sprang into Ailsa’s mind and she had to work to keep her own expression blank.
‘But,’ continued Ella, her eyes wide, ‘the only thing I really like about our town house in York is the piano.’
‘You’ve got a better piano here, though,’ said Ailsa.
Ella smiled, without restraint this time, and it was like the room lit up. ‘Indeed it is. Much better. And they don’t mind me thrashing out my old Mozart. I must make a dreadful din.’
‘I’m sure you don’t,’ said Ailsa. She pushed the tray of mince pies over to Ella, whose fingers hovered over them for a moment, before she selected one.
‘I’m sure I do,’ replied Ella. ‘Adam says I play wonderful music but he’s a liar.’
‘No he’s not.’ Ailsa laughed. ‘The carols were beautiful.’
‘Which one is your favourite?’ asked Ella, delicately licking the sugar off her fingers.
Ailsa thought quickly. It was safer to choose one of the ones Ella had played – she wasn’t much good with when carols had been written and what if she chose one that had been written after 1864?
‘I think it’s O Holy Night,’ she said carefully. She did like it.
‘O Holy Night?’ Ella looked at her enquiringly. ‘That one? Did I play it well enough for you?’
‘It was perfect,’ replied Ailsa. She couldn’t help herself – she made the sign for “perfect”, just to drive her point home; both hands up in the air, her fingers spread apart and her thumb and forefingers making little circles.
There was a spark of interest in Ella’s eyes and she nodded. Thank you she signed back; her own fingers spread, her fingertips tapping her chin and moving away, palm inwards, towards Ailsa.
Again, Ailsa thought her heart would break for this sweet, funny, loving girl who was so concerned for others, and who, being brutally honest, would be dead by next Christmas.
God, the thought was horrible. If she could only warn her—
‘Ella—’ she started.
Then the door was flung open and Lydia tumbled in with Ned, clutching a sprig of mistletoe. ‘Look! Look what we found! Mistletoe! You know what you have to do!’
Ella must have sensed a shadow fall over her, or felt the draught as the door opened, because she started and turned in her chair to face them. ‘Lydia! What’s that?’
‘Mistletoe!’ cried Lydia. She brandished it again. ‘I just said!’
‘Well maybe you did,’ said Ella, pertly, ‘but I didn’t hear you.’
This time it was Ailsa’s turn to look at the ground and hide a smile. You had to give the girl credit.
‘That’s always your excuse,’ replied Lydia, ‘but regardless it’s mistletoe. Ned found it.’
Ella turned to face Ailsa and rolled her eyes. Slowly, she signed something to her.
I want to tell you how perfect for you Ned is. I see more than people think. He adores you. Make sure you love him always.
Ella looked questioningly at Ailsa and Ailsa nodded, dumbly.
I understand. Thank you.
Ella smiled and stood up. ‘So what are we going to do with the mistletoe?’ she asked.
Lydia began to describe where she thought it should go and Ned came over to Ailsa, letting Lydia run away with her ideas.
‘What did she say?’ he asked, his back to the girls so Ella, at least, couldn’t read the conversation.
‘Nothing important,’ she said, her eyes sliding across to the door where Lydia was now demonstrating how she could hang the mistletoe there to catch people as they came in. ‘Just something I’d been wondering about. But you knew we were here, didn’t you? That’s why you came in.’ She looked back at Ned, challenging him with her eyes. ‘You knew I was going to say something to her.’
‘Do you think so?’ he asked.
‘I know so,’ replied Ailsa. ‘I know, I know. I can’t and I shouldn’t, but it’s so hard.’
‘You’re not here to rewrite their history,’ said Ned softly. He took her hand in his and kissed it. ‘Let them be. It’s something I have to fight against myself, but you’ll learn.’
‘I don’t know if I do want to learn,’ said Ailsa miserably. ‘I’m in the business of helping people to make a life together. I can’t just stand back and let them – die!’
‘It’s very hard,’ replied Ned. ‘Very hard indeed. But they have each other, right up until the end. Some things we just have to be grateful for. Anyway—’ In one, swift movement, he pulled Ailsa around so they were both facing the door. ‘Good Lord!’ Ned cried. ‘She’s only gone and fixed it up there! Come on, Mrs Cavendish. Let’s test it out!’
And he drew her over to the doorway, took hold of her right there and then, and kissed her in full view of everyone.
He didn’t just kiss her; it was one of those theatrical kisses where the man bends the lady over backwards and swoops down on her. Ailsa gasped and thought her corsets were sure to go ping under the strain. His hand was in the small of her back, her arms flailing wildly, until she reached up and hung onto his neck. She felt his hair curling under her fingertips, his skin warm against hers, the scent of winter and frost and pine clinging to his overcoat. Then, supporting her as if she were the most precious, most breakable thing in the world, he pulled her upright. His black eyes were sparkling with mischief, his lips tilted into the most captivating smile she’d ever seen.
‘Oh my.’ Her voice was a whisper, her cheeks burning. ‘Now why did you go and do that, Ned Cavendish?’
‘I told you that you might not appreciate my efforts to stop you talking about the future. But more than that, I did it simply because I love you and because the opportunity was too good to miss,’ he answered, without shifting his attention from her. It was as
if they were the only two people in the room and she was falling under some sort of spell – until there was a gleeful shout and a joyful clap from behind her.
‘Edward Charles Cavendish!’ cried Adam. ‘You rake!’
Ailsa removed herself from Ned’s embrace and turned towards her host, her face, she knew, scarlet, a million and one excuses on her tongue.
‘Is it a free for all? Mistletoe, is it? Good chap, Lydia!’ cried Adam. ‘I came in at just the right time!’ Suddenly, he grabbed Ella around the waist, bobbed his head to the side of hers so she could see him, then pulled the startled girl around to face him fully. Ailsa felt for Ella – she’d had no idea he was behind her and her face was a picture. She squealed and then, as she registered who it was, she began to giggle as her cheeks flushed rosy pink. ‘Ha! Mistletoe. You can’t escape now, Miss Dunbar,’ Adam continued. He pulled her towards him and landed a kiss right on her mouth.
Ella’s hands, her fingers spread like starfish in shock, floundered a little like Ailsa’s had; then they moved, hesitantly, up to Adam’s shoulders. She closed her eyes, and returned the kiss; then they pulled apart, the pair of them staring at each other, apparently baffled. Reluctantly, it seemed, Ella removed her hands from Adam’s shoulders and he released her waist. Almost as if it were choreographed, they both took half a step backwards. Their eyes, however, remained locked on one another.
Ailsa wanted to barge in and shout at the pair of them: For God’s sake – what are you doing? Do it properly! It’s Christmas – people always get together at Christmas parties!
But of course she didn’t, possibly because she felt Ned’s restraining hold on her own waist.
‘I’m sorry.’ That was Adam, talking to Ella. He smiled, shyly embarrassed and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Johnson forced me into taking some whisky with him. It must have been stronger than I thought.’
‘That’s all right,’ she said, a tiny wobble in her voice. ‘There was mistletoe. You don’t have to apologise. Please don’t apologise.’
‘Yes. Mistletoe,’ replied Adam. ‘The very stuff. And Johnson’s whisky. More like Johnson’s moonshine, I’ll warrant. A terrible combination.’
Lydia was staring at the pair of them, her knuckles rammed in her mouth, her eyes wide. ‘My goodness. That was wonderful,’ she muttered around her knuckles. Ailsa cast a sharp glance at her. She clearly didn’t want Ella to hear that comment.
Lydia must have felt Ailsa’s eyes on her as she slid her own gaze around to meet her and smiled around her knuckles.
She moved her hand away slightly and whispered, ‘For years and years I’ve tried to make that happen. And it did. I could honestly dance a jig. I’m so happy.’
Ailsa frowned at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well almost everybody knows that those two are meant for each other except them. I really need to work on it a little more. I’ll have to plan something.’
Ailsa thought she glimpsed a chance to change history. ‘Well, you could—’
‘You could just let it happen naturally,’ interrupted Ned. He was smiling at Lydia, then he winked. ‘Today has put the idea into their heads anyway.’
‘I think the idea has always been there in both their heads,’ said Lydia. She looked slyly across at her brother and her best friend, then moved so she had her back completely to Ella. ‘But today is the first day we’ve ever come close to them admitting it to themselves – hurrah for mistletoe. It’s so fortunate you found it, Ned!’
Ned smiled. ‘Isn’t it?’ He had also turned away from the couple and he and Lydia were standing, indiscreetly, discussing Adam and Ella in such a position that there was no way Ella could have discovered what they were saying.
Not that either Adam or Ella would have noticed, anyway, thought Ailsa wryly; they were completely lost in one another.
Adam was busy talking to Ella about some random estate business, and she was nodding as if she was actually bothered about it all – but Ailsa saw that the pair of them were hot and flustered and Ella was nervously tucking hair behind her ear, and Adam’s own hair was, by now, sticking out in tufts where he’d been raking his fingers through it.
God love them.
‘At least now I have something to work on,’ said Lydia with a wicked grin. ‘I think I’ll order some more mulled wine. It might just add to the whisky and fuel him into action – we can but hope.’ She practically danced over to the bell-pull, leaving Ned and Ailsa alone before the fireplace.
And now, finally it had happened. ‘I think my heart just broke a little bit,’ Ailsa murmured.
‘It shows you have one,’ whispered Ned. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘I’ve seen enough,’ said Ailsa, a catch in her voice. She turned to Ned, embarrassed to feel tears bubbling up, watching this fairy tale unfold, knowing how desperately, irrevocably, it would be broken by this time next year. ‘I can’t watch any more. If I stay, I won’t be responsible for my actions. I’ll say something or do something and tell them to stay away from here when that man comes.’
She referred, of course, to Jacob.
‘You can’t blame Jacob entirely,’ said Ned softly. ‘We’ve already had that conversation.’
‘I can blame him enough.’ She raised her hand and wiped a tear away. ‘Can we go? Please?’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ She took a deep, shuddering breath and cast a glance at Ella, Lydia and Adam, clustered now by the door. She hadn’t spent long with them, but she’d seen what she wanted to see. ‘I wish it had all turned out well for them,’ she said.
‘I can grant most wishes,’ replied Ned, taking her hand, ‘but not everything is possible.’ He leaned down and kissed her hand, then he led her over to the French doors, past the Christmas tree and away from the warmth of the fire.
‘I do love the china angels,’ Ailsa said in a small voice, deliberately coming to a halt beside the tree and looking up at it. ‘And the candlelight. It’s so pretty.’
‘It’s a beautiful tree. If not a little too tall. Lydia is a fiend for Christmas trees, but this is truly the worst fit yet.’
Ailsa gave a shaky little laugh, and allowed Ned to lead her through the French doors and out onto the frost-spangled terrace.
They stood, facing the rolling parkland and moors, the sea a strip of gunmetal in the distance, lit by the silver penny that hung above the horizon.
Snowflakes were falling and Ailsa closed her eyes, tilting her face up so they landed in sharp little dots on her face. ‘Carrick Park has never changed, has it?’ she asked.
‘Never,’ replied Ned. ‘Are you sure you want to go back right now?’
‘Yes. I’m guessing I’m a shadow anyway, and once I’ve gone, they’ll never know I was here.’
‘That’s not quite how it works,’ said Ned. ‘You’ll still be here – well, a version of you, anyway; a version who doesn’t know anything beyond the here and now.’
‘That sounds complicated,’ replied Ailsa. She opened her eyes and stared out at the white landscape. ‘How do I get back?’
‘I’ll take you,’ he said. ‘Like this.’
And he pulled her towards him, and he kissed her, and the world melted away and she wasn’t aware of anything else for quite some time.
Chapter Six
CHRISTMAS PRESENT
When Ailsa opened her eyes, she was still clinging to Ned, still standing on the terrace and still facing a white landscape.
However, she was shivering in her pyjamas; there was a string of lights in the distance which marked a road, and moving lights were evidence of late night traffic trundling along it. A vague hum wormed into her consciousness as an aircraft flew overhead. And she could breathe properly. She wasn’t wearing a corset, which had to be a blessing.
‘We’re back,’ she said, looking around her. Ned still had her hands in his, she could still feel the warmth and the firm grip; but then, to her horror, she felt his grip relax and he let her hands drop.
<
br /> ‘We are,’ he said. ‘Safe and sound. I’m glad that bit worked.’
His profile was stark against the wintry background, his face pale in the moonlight. His brows were knitted together and he appeared to be deep in thought – either that, or he was wrestling with some sort of inner demon.
Ailsa’s stomach churned. She didn’t quite understand – the day might have been a beautiful dream; it might have been real. She had no idea, but Ned had figured in her reality that Christmas Eve somehow. And she felt a draw to him that she didn’t think she could ever explain. She didn’t want to think beyond that – and she knew for a fact that she didn’t want him to leave her. But she had a horrible feeling that that was going to happen.
‘Will I see you again?’ she asked, her heart thumping, dreading the answer. She wrapped her arms around herself. ‘Or is this it?’
Ned put his hands in his pockets and his frown deepened, his eyes seeming to darken. Oh, how she just wanted to fall into those eyes and be done with it.
He shrugged. ‘You’ll be here next Christmas, won’t you?’ His voice was odd, clipped almost, as if he was saying words he didn’t want to say, but he knew he had to. He didn’t take his eyes off the distant horizon. The sea was still a slice of gunmetal; slate-grey, tipped with tiny specks of foam as the waves relentlessly crashed inland.
‘I don’t know.’ Ailsa was thrown. ‘All things being equal, then yes. I’ll be here next year.’
‘Good.’ Ned nodded, still staring out to the coast. ‘I’ll see you then.’ He turned and finally looked at her. He smiled down at her, his dark eyes burning into hers. ‘I always come back for Christmas.’
‘But I—’
‘Listen!’ He interrupted her, touching her gently on the arm. Her skin fizzed through the thin fabric and she almost expected to see sparks flying from where his fingertips lay. ‘Do you hear that?’ He nodded towards the French doors that led back into the drawing room.
