Malcolm thinks it’s his best yet.
And he didn’t have to pay for this one.
He takes it appreciatively and wonders what Jo will think when she receives the Christmas card he posted to her and Eric yesterday.
At the door Jo gives him another hug. ‘It will be all right, Malcolm, you wait and see.’
This brings back thoughts of Rev. Ruth, and he recalls her words to him. Someone would be happy to see Mrs Appleby. ‘Just wait and see.’ As he waves Jo off, he feels like a weight has been lifted. But he still can’t imagine who on earth would ever be pleased to see Mrs Appleby. He returns to the kitchen and finishes off his herbal tea. He idly turns his book over to the place where Jo left it open. The words jump off the page as if illuminated. He stops dead, like Mr Tumnus turned to stone.
Poor Mole stood alone on the road, his heart torn asunder, and a big sob gathering, gathering, somewhere low down inside him … But even under such a test as this his loyalty to his friend stood firm.
Maybe his prayer has been answered. By a visit from an expectant mother, and from a mole. He is clear now. He will stand firm by his friend, Rev. Ruth, and give her the best Christmas ever, whatever form that takes. Mrs Appleby and all.
But he does rather like the idea of getting her drunk.
Surely, she can’t be any worse than she is sober.
Malcolm enters the bookshop with lightness in his step, calling to Padam, as he arrives. ‘Do you know any good Christmas cocktail recipes?’
‘You seem happier,’ Padam comments, looking up from behind the counter. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing. Well, everything.’ He pauses, ‘I suppose you could say I have changed my mind.’ Malcolm finds the reigniting of his Christmas spirit has made it stronger – burn even brighter. He laughs.
‘Have you been drinking?’ Padam grins.
‘No. But I certainly shall be at Christmas. It now appears I have Mrs Appleby coming for lunch too. Do you know the good lady?’
Padam’s eyes widen.
Malcolm thinks they really are the most beautiful colour hazel.
‘I do. I’m not so sure many people would call her “good”.’
‘Rev. Ruth tells me someone will be really pleased to see her.’
‘Indeed,’ Padam comments. Malcolm looks keenly at him. The hazel eyes are gleaming with mirth. ‘Well, I guess we’d better fish out some cocktail recipes worthy of Mrs Appleby,’ and with this Padam heads towards the cookery section.
They are back at the counter debating the merits of an Old-Fashioned, when one of the Three Disgraces enters the shop. It is so unusual to see one of the Graces alone that Malcolm addresses her with some concern. ‘Is all well with you, Grace?’ Seeing her on her own it is clear to him now that this is ‘Grace’ rather than Amazing Grace or Gracey.
‘Yes, thank you, Mr Buswell, but I will have a sit-down if I may.’
‘Of course,’ he responds, pulling out the chair by the counter for her. ‘How can I help you?’
‘I’ve come to collect that Richard Osman you put aside for me.’
‘Of course,’ Malcolm repeats, pulling the book out from under the counter.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Padam offers.
‘No, but thank you, dear.’
Something in her tone makes Malcolm ask again, ‘Are you sure everything is all right?’
She sighs. ‘I think I must be getting old.’
Malcolm cannot believe he is hearing this admission from one of the Three Disgraces.
‘I normally love Christmas, but this year, I have to admit I am finding it quite a struggle. I can’t somehow get into the spirit.’
