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“Enough twirling, my little ballerina.”
“I’d like Mabel to read to me, but I still want a tutu for Christmas. And a horse.”
“Not a real horse,” Brooke said quickly. “You don’t want a real horse.”
“I do want a real horse. But Daddy says our garden isn’t big enough.”
“Daddy is right.” Brooke and Matt exchanged amused glances and Izzy was skewered by envy. They were a team. You could see they were a team. Somehow, in this crazy, busy world, they had managed to meet, fall in love and have a family. It seemed like a miracle to her.
Elsie was still waiting for an answer. “Mabel? Will you read to me on Christmas Day?”
It was a moment before Mabel answered.
She’s emotional, Izzy thought. She’s trying not to cry.
“Yes,” Mabel said huskily. “I would love to read to you, Elsie.”
Still holding the book tightly, Elsie rushed across to her and flung her arms around Mabel.
“Poppy’s right. This is going to be the best Christmas ever.”
18
Brooke
Ithink they’re finally asleep.” They were in the bathroom and Brooke was whispering because she didn’t want to wake the girls. “The cat is sleeping on the bed next to Elsie. Do you think I should move him?”
“If they’re both happy, then no.”
“Happy doesn’t begin to describe it. The girls were so excited, I couldn’t get them to settle down. I had to read the book five times. I should have asked Mabel to read it.”
“Then they never would have settled down. It would have been far too exciting. Also, it would have ruined the Christmas treat. The anticipation of that will keep Elsie going through any number of power cuts or storms, I’m sure.”
“Me, too. I’m as excited as she is.” Brooke brushed her hair. “Can you believe Mabel is M.M. Kingston? How could I not have known that?”
“Why would you have known that?”
“Well, for a start, because I met her. I was around Elsie’s age. Maybe a little older. She came to my parents’ bookstore to do a signing. I think it was the third book in the Careless Witch series.”
“You have a good memory. I couldn’t recount a single incident from that age.”
“But it was memorable. She read one of the books and she was brilliant. I remember she brought a broom with her, and she danced around on it and did all the voices—she had so much energy. The children adored her. I never forgot it, and obviously we still have the books she signed.” Brooke put the hairbrush down. “I thought I recognised her, but I couldn’t think from where. She seems different. Sadder?”
“It was a long time ago. Also, she’s not performing for an audience now. She’s dealing with unexpected guests—” he paused “—which is a polite way of pointing out that we are basically intruders. I didn’t get the impression she was thrilled to have company. Poor woman.”
“Why didn’t she tell us who she was right away, when Elsie first mentioned it and produced the book?”
“I suppose she was protecting her privacy. She lives alone. Maybe she has a lot of crazed fans hammering on her door. She must like privacy, otherwise she wouldn’t be living in this isolated place.”
“She’s only a short distance from town. It’s the weather that makes it feel isolated.” Brooke trawled through her memory. “I thought she had family. A daughter? Maybe I’ve got that wrong. I do know she hasn’t written anything for years. My parents talked about it at one point, but I can’t remember the details. Do you get the sense that there is some mystery here?”
“I’m too tired to sense anything.” Matt ran his hand over his face. “All I want to do is sleep. It’s three in the morning in London.”
“But we’re not in London.”
“I know. Which is why my head is hammering and my eyes feel as if someone has poured grit into them.” He slid his hand behind her head and kissed her gently. “It’s good to see you smiling. You haven’t done much of that since we started this trip.”
“I’m sorry.” She leaned her head against his chest. “This whole trip has felt like pressure from the beginning. I wish I could relax.”
