The Keeper of Lost Things(45)

Laura picked up one of the wineglasses and polished away an imaginary smudge. Sunshine and her mum and dad were coming for Christmas dinner. Her brother had been invited, but he “wasn’t bovvered.” Freddy was coming too. She hadn’t known whether to ask him or not, but a stern pep talk from Sarah had convinced her. He said yes, and since then Laura had wasted an inordinate amount of time trying to work out why. Her hypotheses were numerous and varied; she’d caught him by surprise; he was lonely; he wanted a roast turkey dinner but couldn’t cook; he had nowhere else to go; he felt sorry for her. The one explanation she was most reluctant but excited to entertain was the simplest and most nerve-racking. He was coming because he wanted to.

Perhaps she had done it in her sleep, like sleepwalking. Sleep trashing. It wasn’t a burglary because nothing was missing. Yesterday she had found Sunshine in the garden room dancing to the Al Bowlly song that had begun to haunt her, night and day.

“Did you put the music on?”

Sunshine shook her head.

“It was already on, and when I heard it, I came in for the dance.”

Laura had never known Sunshine to tell a lie.

“They’re done!” Sunshine burst into the dining room looking at her watch. She had been making mince pies and now the kitchen was dusty with flour and icing sugar. Laura followed her as she trotted purposefully back to the kitchen and hopped from foot to foot excitedly while Laura took the pies from the oven.

“They smell lovely,” she said, and Sunshine blushed proudly.

“Just in time,” said Freddy as he came in through the back door accompanied by a blast of freezing-cold air. “Time for the lovely cup of tea and an even lovelier mince pie.”

As they sat round the table, drinking tea and fanning mouthfuls of mince pies, which were still a little too hot, Freddy gazed thoughtfully at Laura.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing.” It was a reflex rather than an answer.

Freddy raised his eyebrows. Sunshine shoved the rest of her mince pie in and then spoke with her mouth full.

“That’s a lie.”

Freddy laughed out loud.

“Well, no points for tact there, but ten out of ten for honesty.”

They both looked at Laura expectantly. She told them. About the dressing table; the music; even about the shadow figure in the rose garden. Sunshine was unimpressed.

“It’s just the lady,” she said, as though it ought to have been obvious.

“And what lady might that be?” Freddy asked, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Laura.

“St. Anthony’s wedding wife. The Lady of the Flowers.” She reached for another mince pie and dropped it under the table for Carrot. Freddy winked at her and mouthed, I saw that. Sunshine almost smiled.

“But why would she still be here, now that Anthony’s gone?” Laura surprised herself by taking the idea seriously enough to ask.

“Yes. Why would she still be here making a mess and disturbing the peace? And after we gave her such a lovely wedding too?” Laura had no idea if Freddy was being serious or not.

Sunshine shrugged. “She’s upset.”

Despite her skepticism, Laura’s stomach tipped like a tombola machine.

Christmas day dawned bright and sunny, and as Laura ambled round the garden with Carrot, her spirits lifted. Christmas Eve had passed uneventfully, and she had even been to midnight mass at the local church. She’d had a few words with God and maybe that had helped. Laura and God didn’t get together too often, but he was still on her Christmas-card list.

Sunshine and her mum and dad arrived at twelve on the dot.

“Sunshine’s been ready since eight,” her mum told Laura as she took their coats. “She’d have been here for breakfast if we’d let her.”

Laura introduced them to Freddy. “This is Stella and this is Stan.”

“We call ourselves the SS.” Stella chuckled. “It’s very kind of you to invite us.”

Stan grinned and thrust a poinsettia and a bottle of pink cava at Laura.

“There’s nothing like a drop of pink fizz at Christmas,” said Stella, smoothing down the front of her best dress and checking her hair in the hall mirror. As Sunshine proudly gave them a guided tour of the house, Stella and Stan oohed and aahed appreciatively. Back in the kitchen, Freddy was whisking gravy, basting roast potatoes, stabbing boiling Brussels sprouts, and drinking vodka martinis. And occasionally sneaking an appreciative glance at Laura. A couple of times, their eyes met, and he refused to look away. Laura was beginning to feel rather warm. He had insisted on helping to show his appreciation for the invitation. He raised his glass to Laura.

“If they’re the SS, then I’m 007.”

Christmas dinner was every bit as glorious as it ought to be. In the fairy-tale setting of silver and white and sparkle, they ate too much, drank too much, pulled crackers, and told terrible jokes. Carrot camped out under the table taking tidbits from whichever hand offered them. Laura discovered that Stella was in a book club and did flamenco, and Stan was on the darts team at his local pub. They were currently second in the league, and with three more matches in hand, they were hoping to take the championship. But Stan’s real passion was music. Much to Freddy’s delight, they shared a broad and eclectic taste, from David Bowie to Art Pepper to the Proclaimers to Etta James. It was easy to see where Sunshine’s love of music and dancing came from.