Page 47 of Fiendish Delights
Mum sipped her mimosa; it might be morning but it was Christmas, which apparently made drinking alcohol absolutely permissible. ‘I know they happen here from time to time but I’ve never experienced one before. I thought the house was going to come down around our ears!’
Neither Hester nor Otis said a word. I swallowed uncomfortably. A few pictures had fallen off the walls and several slates off the roof of the house, but fortunately there was no other damage and nobody had been hurt. I’d checked in with all the neighbours to be sure; it was the least I could do.
‘Here,’ I said, thrusting a parcel into Mum’s hands in a desperate attempt to change the subject. ‘Open your gift.’
Dad handed me a slim, gift-wrapped parcel. ‘You too, Daisy. It’s a “one of a kind”. Betty down the street makes them and sells them on Etsy, but she assured me that nobody else has one like this.’
I unwrapped the box to reveal a pretty pendant necklace, a dangling crystal bauble entwined with copper. ‘It’s beautiful.’ I fastened it around my neck. ‘Thank you.’
They both beamed at me. Hester twirled in the air, showing off her new black cloak with tiny diamante beads fixed to the collar, and Otis doffed his jaunty baseball cap. ‘Did you make these yourself, Daisy?’ he asked.
I snorted. My sewing skills extended to wonkily hemming full-size trousers – and only if I concentrated very hard. Fortunately the internet offered a wide range of doll-sized clothes that were perfect for the brownies. Nobody should have to suffer seeing me brandish a needle.
Dad held up the model aeroplane kit I’d given him. ‘I’ll enjoy making this in the new year.’
‘Model aeroplanes aren’t the only thing you should be making.’ Mum wagged her finger. ‘What are your new year’s resolutions?’
He groaned. ‘Can’t we enjoy Christmas before we start thinking about new beginnings?’
Hester gazed dreamily at the glowing fire, which had been lit to celebrate the occasion. Like the morning mimosas, it was a rare occurrence. ‘Do you know,’ she said, ‘that if you gaze into a fire at the exact moment the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve, you’ll see the person you’re going to marry?’
‘That’s a stupid superstition that doesn’t work,’ Otis told her. ‘I tried it. For several years running.’
She shrugged. ‘I guess that’s because you’re never getting married.’
‘A New Year’s Eve fire is for cleansing the past and embracing the new,’ he said huffily. ‘Your version is nothing but an old wives’ tale.’
‘Why is it always an old wives’ tale?’ Mum asked, speaking to nobody in particular. ‘Why do women get blamed for superstitious stories and not men?’
‘Because women like to talk a lot,’ Dad answered instantly. ‘Usually about nothing of consequence.’ He paled, realising abruptly that he’d spoken aloud. ‘Er, I’ll go and peel the potatoes, shall I?’
‘You do that. And fetch me another mimosa,’ Mum ordered. ‘And then you can learn your place by scrubbing the kitchen floor. In silence. Because you’re aman.’
Dad’s mouth twitched. So did Mum’s.
‘What about you, Daisy?’ she asked. ‘What would you like your father to do as penance for his foolish words?’
I didn’t answer. I was too busy grinning.
‘Daisy?’
I raised my glass to them both. ‘Merry Christmas,’ I said. ‘And here’s to new beginnings in the new year.’ And, I added to myself, here’s to the thing that might help us find Mud McAlpine’s damned mythical treasure.
I’d be attending a certain Hogmanay party after all.
Chapter
Fifteen
Idressed up. I didn’t possess a vast wardrobe of sparkly glad rags, but there were a couple of functional dresses that would pass muster at a Royal Elvish Institute party. In the end, I grabbed a simple black number with a plunging neckline that I’d worn on a whim to a staff night out when I’d worked at SDS, and which had been consigned to a coat hanger ever since. The necklace from my mum and dad would distract from all the boob on display. Hopefully.
‘Do you know, Daisy,’ Hester said, ‘we’ve been with you for months now and this is the first time we’re going to a party? It’s heresy that it’s taken this long.’ She looked me up and down. ‘You should snip a few inches off that hem and show more leg.’
‘I’m not going to do that.’
‘At the last party I went to, flashing your bare ankles was considered shocking,’ she continued, as if she hadn’t heard me. ‘Now you can wear whatever you like and nobody cares!’
That wasn’t actually true; I could think of many outfits that would horrify the high-elvish community if I wore them.
