by LJM Owen
An enormous treasure trove of presents lay heaped on a table beneath the banner, every one covered with glittering mauve or soft violet Christmas paper and tied with ribbons and bows of gold.
‘That’s all for me?’ Mai asked in astonishment.
Elizabeth and Sam each put an arm around her. ‘We’re so sorry we missed your birthday,’ Elizabeth said.
Matty held up a soft, floppy package with an outsized, intricate bow. ‘Open this one first!’
‘But I… Are you sure?’
Matty nodded. ‘Go for it.’
Mai was a ripper. Tearing the paper apart, she allowed a pair of purple Christmas pyjamas to fall to the floor. ‘I wasn’t allowed to open presents in front of other people when I was growing up. This feels a bit naughty.’
‘Good!’ Sam said.
‘Now, go and get changed,’ Elizabeth added. ‘We already washed them for you. Then come back and open the rest.’
As Mai headed for the downstairs bathroom, Elizabeth followed Sam to the kitchen. She poked Sam in the ribs. ‘Are you doing okay?’
Sam smiled broadly. ‘Yes, I really am.’ Straightening her bright yellow reindeer-covered sleepwear, she set about filling the top level of a drinks trolley with an ice bucket, bubbly, glasses and mince pies.
In a rare summer indulgence – the air conditioning would only be set to such a low temperature on this one day – Elizabeth decided to make herself a large mug of frothy hot chocolate overflowing with white marshmallows.
They returned to the loungeroom to find Matty toying with the pom-pom on the end of his floppy red Santa hat, trying to distract Thoth long enough to place a set of miniature antlers on her head and take a photo. The cat’s lashing tail indicated he would fail.
Settling in one corner of the oversized plush sofa, Elizabeth tucked her feet under her candy-cane-covered nightie and sipped from her favourite Eeyore mug. ‘She’s going to swipe at you.’
Matty decided on a new target. ‘Loki, Paris, come here.’
Mai returned, wiping her cheeks.
‘Are you okay?’ Elizabeth asked.
Mai smiled. ‘Yes, very happy, just a bit overwhelmed.’ She launched herself at the pile of presents and began rending paper. ‘My own apron!’
The family had put their heads together and decided they should buy one present for Mai to represent each missed Pimms birthday and Christmas. With more than fifty presents to get through, she looked like she was in heaven. ‘My own basket for the garden!’
The family had listed as many practical presents as they could, items Mai could keep in the house so that she didn’t have to borrow from others. Each and every gift had a touch of Mai’s signature colour, so that unwrapping her gifts caused a slow-motion mulberry explosion.
‘My own boots for bushwalking!’
It was wonderful to see Mai becoming more settled, though Elizabeth knew they would have to watch for any signs of back-sliding into depression, insidious as it could be. Still, everyone could afford to relax a little.
Grandmère Maddie opened the loungeroom door. Resplendent in a black satin nightgown and matching robe – the waist snatched in with a soft silver tie complete with jingling silver bells at the ends – she opened her arms to hug Matty. ‘Joyeux Noël!’
‘Joyeux Noël,’ the room chorused.
Behind her, clutching his cane in one hand, Taid stood firmly in the doorway. The effect of his crisp blue and white snowflake-patterned pyjamas was only slightly marred by smeary fingerprints on his glasses. ‘A Nadolig Llawen!’ Merry Christmas.
‘Nadolig Llawen a chi!’ Elizabeth said, the only one in the room game enough to tackle Welsh pronunciation.
While Taid was showing no obvious ill-effects from his heart attack or pacemaker surgery, apart from the occasional wince as he stood up, Elizabeth was aware that his health was more fragile now than it had been last Christmas. She hated to think how many years of relatively good health he might have left.
She was also uneasy that she still didn’t know who was behind the break-in, or what Taid was hiding from her. That, combined with a need to monitor Mai and find out exactly what role Judy had played in her father’s death, meant that Elizabeth had decided not to pursue the job in London, at least for the time being.
She must have frowned at the thought of confronting Judy in the new year, when she was supposed to return to work at the Library, because Mai had stopped unwrapping presents, a look of concern on her face. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, nothing. Just wondering if I should go for a glass of champers or a mince pie next.’
‘Why not both?’
She was glad that Mai had obviously gotten into the spirit of the day.
Unusually, Nainai Cho was the last to join the room. She took a seat near the gleefully shredding Mai, clearly pleased to see her new granddaughter enjoying herself so much.
‘Hey, you haven’t opened anything yet,’ Matty said, handing Elizabeth a gift from beneath the tree.
It was a replacement diary from Sam.
‘I tried to buy one in your favourite colour but they had so many choices I wasn’t certain which green you’d prefer.’
Elizabeth grinned. ‘This one’s perfect. I’d call it “Osiris green”.’
‘I thought you said Osiris was black,’ Matty said.
‘Sometimes black, sometimes green,’ Elizabeth explained. ‘Green was the colour of the dead in ancient Egypt.’
Sam shook her head. ‘Your favourite colour is Egyptian death-god green. That’s so appropriate.’
Elizabeth had to laugh.
‘What happened with all that work you and your friends were doing in Taid’s library?’ Matty asked.
‘We figured it out! Some results came in last week.’ Between them, Henry and Rhoz had talked researchers in the US, Egypt, the UK and France into running some DNA tests. ‘They confirmed the close relationship between our Golden Tomb mummies and the three last Pharaohs of the Nineteenth Dynasty, Seti the Second, Siptah and Tausret. That, combined with the translations of the scrolls from the Tomb, means that in all likelihood the Pharaoh who built the Golden Tomb was Tausret, and she built it for her personal scribe, Seben.’
In the wake of this latest news Elizabeth had reviewed records of Tausret’s life and death. Tausret’s tomb was fascinating as it reflected her journey from Chief Great Royal Wife of Pharaoh Seti the Second, to Siptah’s regent, then to Pharaoh in her own right.
Tausret had been succeeded by Setnakhte, a Ramessian relative, who then refused to acknowledge Siptah or Tausret’s reigns. Setnakhte’s son, Ramesses the Third, actively erased as many records of Tausret as he could and stole her personal tomb. And in the endless game of musical tombs, Ramesses the Third had ejected Tausret’s mummy from her sarcophagus and reused her tomb for his father, Setnakhte, and her sarcophagus for his eldest son, Amun-her-khepeshef.
Thinking back on the demise of Ramesses the Third, hacked across the neck by an axe, Elizabeth thought it a rather fitting end for someone who had so actively sought to expunge the memory of such an accomplished female ruler.
‘So, what will you tackle next?’ Taid asked, biting into a crumbling mince pie. Grandmère tsked and brushed crumbs from his front into a napkin.
‘Dr Marsh finally approved Alice’s and my papers on the Olmec and Maya remains, so I’ve just started to write up our Egyptian work.’ In fact, Alice and Nathan were preparing sections of various papers to cover their analysis of the printed remains of the Golden Tomb mummies, while Henry was working on a joint paper with Elizabeth to announce their possible discovery of a secret women’s code in ancient Egyptian papyri. ‘And Dr Marsh has offered me a tutoring role again next year. She’s asked for my opinion on which readings we should use next year, so I’d like to put quite a lot of thought into that.’
‘I’m certain you’ll wan
t to continue using my library for these weekend archaeological adventures of yours,’ Taid said, a familiar teasing note in his voice.
Elizabeth’s heart soared to hear it. ‘Henry has suggested the group actively starts looking for, as he puts it, another really cold case.’
‘Any ideas?’
‘Not yet, but I’m certain something will present itself. History is full of puzzles.’
‘And you’re out to solve them?’ Sam joked.
‘Have snoop of sleuths, will travel!’
Any further investigations with her group of librarians, philologists, geneticists and computer whizzes lay in the future, though. For now, Elizabeth wanted to focus on the stomachular challenge before her: a full Pimms Family Christmas Feast, replete with heaped platters of seafood, vats of cocktails and mounds of dessert. With her current load of hot chocolate, champagne and mince pies on board, a short nap was indicated before attempting the mammoth task ahead. All worries, concerns, burdens and responsibilities could wait until tomorrow.
—
Climbing the monumental front steps of the Mahony Griffin Library, Elizabeth paused to survey her glowing surroundings. To the west, Black Mountain Tower marked the high point of the city, and to her right the dark grey-green of Mount Ainslie ascended gently skywards. Elizabeth had always taken comfort from her sense that Canberra lay nestled in the protective embrace of the mountains. In the growing heat of the morning she leant into that thought.
She was not looking forward to today. The Library was reopening after the Christmas shutdown and she was returning to work alongside Judy. She had pored over Judy’s letter again last night, reading and rereading it until her eyelids grew heavy. There were no more answers there than there had been when she’d first opened it several weeks ago.
Scanning herself in, Elizabeth trekked across the Library’s enormous marble foyer. A jangling noise made her start. Pausing, ears straining, she realised she could hear the clink of the cleaner’s bangles below, echoing strangely up the stairwell as she pushed a squeaky-wheeled trolley.
Deep breath.
Elizabeth continued to the automatic doors of the Main Reading Room and swiped her pass. There were no sounds inside; she appeared to be the first person in.
Rounding the corner to the customer service desk she stopped dead.
By the marble dais in the middle of the room, a darkening stain was spreading across the carpet. It was fed by a single red line dripping from mottled fingertips above.
Elizabeth dragged her eyes up the side of the platform, tracing a splayed arm, to meet Judy’s glassy stare.
Only then did she notice, atop the corpse’s unmoving ribcage, a familiar white leather journal.
Recipes: Duck Three Ways
Hwyaden Hallt Cymreig (Welsh Salted Duck), by R. M. Evans
My grandmother always said that Lady Llanover, she of the famous nineteenth-century cookbook, hadn’t been paying attention. Yes, salted, boiled duck is delicious, but what makes it irresistible is a final roast to crisp the skin. Marvellous! Although this recipe takes three days to prepare, very little effort is involved. Unless you count having to be patient until you can eat it, which I do.
The duck should be fresh, organic and local, if possible.
Serves roughly 4, depending on appetites.
Ingredients
1 large fresh duck
500 g of good quality sea salt, preferably unbleached
Method
1.Clean the duck thoroughly and place in a deep roasting pan.
2.Pat one large handful of salt over the breast, wings and legs.
3.Place in the fridge overnight.
4.The next day, turn the duck in the liquid that has formed in the bottom of the tray and pat another large handful of salt over the duck. Return to the fridge.
5.On the third day, place a large pot of water on the stove to boil.
6.Rinse the duck extremely thoroughly, removing all traces of salt, then lower it slowly into the boiling water.
7.Simmer gently for 1 hour, then remove carefully and place on a baking rack above a roasting pan. Allow to cool. Keep the pot of water the duck boiled in.
8.Two hours before you wish to eat the duck, preheat the oven to 220°C (420°F, gas mark 7). Once at temperature, place the duck in the oven and roast for 1 hour.
9.Remove the duck 30 minutes before eating and allow to rest. It is best served with stwnch, a carrot and parsnip mash, when the vegetables have been boiled in the duck stock until soft. This, accompanied by an onion gravy also based on the duck stock, is heavenly.
Běijīng kǎoyā 北京烤鸭 (Peking Duck), from Cho Pimms
I prepare this elegant dish for my family at least once a year, as part of our New Year celebrations, though I can be nudged into a repeat performance later in the year with enough encouragement. The skin is fantastically crisp, the flesh moist, the flavour divine. I have found that a key step to attaining the crisp skin, blowing it off the flesh at the beginning the process, is most successful when undertaken by two people. The two days of drying time is the other key to success with this recipe.
Wherever possible, all ingredients should be organic and local, or fresh from the garden.
Serves roughly 8, depending on appetites.
Ingredients
1 large fresh duck
1 L (4 cups) water
165 ml (⅔ cup) Shaoxing rice wine
3 tablespoons honey
3 tablespoons dark soy sauce
1 lemon, sliced
your preferred accompaniments for Peking Duck pancakes, for example, thin rice or wheat pancakes, finely sliced spring onions and hoisin sauce
Implements
bamboo skewers
foot-operated air pump
Method
1.Prepare the duck by pulling out excess fat pads from the cavity, washing it thoroughly, then patting dry.
2.Set it on a rack and close the cavity with a bamboo skewer, ensuring the skin is sealed so air won’t escape.
3.Pierce the skin at the base of the neck carefully with a paring knife to create a hole to insert the pump nozzle. While one person holds the nozzle under the skin, turning it to evenly blow up the duck, the other person works the foot pump slowly. Too much pressure and you may tear a hole in the skin.
4.Once the skin on one side has been separated from the underlying muscles, turn the duck over and make another incision near the nape of the neck and blow the skin from the muscles on the back of the duck.
5.Cut off the first two joints of the wings and the lower part of the leg, i.e., below the drumstick, if it is still attached.
6.Place the blown-up duck in a deep baking sheet, breast side up.
7.Prepare the scalding liquid by simmering the water, Shaoxing rice wine, honey, dark soy sauce and lemon slices together for 20 minutes.
8.Ladle the still simmering liquid all over the duck, scalding the skin. The skin will change texture and darken. Turn the duck over and scald the back.
9.To dry, place the duck on a roasting rack over a deep pan and place in the fridge uncovered. Allow to dry for 2 days.
10.On the third day, once the duck skin is completely dry, preheat the oven to 240°C (475°F, gas mark 9).
11.Place the duck on a roasting rack above a deep roasting pan with 2 cm of water in it. The tray must not become dry during baking.
12.Place the duck on the middle rack of the oven and roast for 15 minutes, then reduce the heat to 170°C (338°F, gas mark 3) and continue to roast for a further 70 minutes.
13.Remove from the oven and rest for 15 minutes. Remove breasts and slice thinly.
14.Serve with your choice of thin rice or wheat pancakes, finely sliced spring onions and hoisin sauce.
As a secondary dish, I would normally pr
epare a duck noodle soup the following day. To do this, strip all remaining meat from the carcass and reserve. Boil the bones in 1.5 litres of water along with your choice of vegetables and flavourings for 45 minutes, then strain and keep the resulting stock. Return the stock to a simmer and add your choice of noodles and the reserved meat, roughly chopped. Serve with a garnish of finely sliced coriander, chillies and spring onions.
Canard à l’orange (Duck with Orange Sauce), by Mme Madeleine Evans
This recipe captures the very essence of cooking in my childhood home: incredible ingredients prepared using simple techniques in an inventive manner. The onion ash worked into the salt crust imbues the entire dish with a hint of smoke. This is an all-day recipe, so be prepared for extensive tea breaks between some steps. I prefer to serve with lightly sautéed fresh vegetables and a salad.
All ingredients must be organic and local, or fresh from the garden.
Serves 4, depending on appetites.
Ingredients
1 large fresh duck
5 spring onions, washed, sliced vaguely in half
1½ cups good quality sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
350 g flour – wheat, spelt or a good gluten-free flour
10 egg whites
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh rosemary
2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh thyme
30 g finely chopped fresh coriander
4 whole blood oranges, segments cut out
2 pink grapefruit, segments cut out
16 star anise
6 dried chillies
2 tablespoons fennel seeds
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons coarsely ground black pepper
1 teaspoon coarse sea salt
240 ml blood orange juice
180 ml red wine
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
Method
1.Begin by making the onion ash. Preheat the oven to 190°C (370°F, gas mark 5). Slice the spring onions as thinly as possible and spread evenly over a non-stick baking tray. Cook until black, completely dry and brittle. This will take 1½ to 2 hours. Once cool blend to a fine powder in a food processor.
