Page 3 of All We Want for Christmas
‘Yes, I – er – happen to have bumped into him earlier. He’d just arrived. It was quite a surprise.’
Fiona groaned. ‘Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. It’s all been so last minute. We only heard he’d accepted the job the day before yesterday and we were going to tell you, but with us only getting home from Hattie’s in London yesterday evening, there hadn’t been a moment.’
Hattie was one of the Penhaligons’ two daughters and was a sculptor who had an art gallery in the capital.
‘It’s OK. I know how hectic things have been,’ Lara said politely, seeing that Fiona seemed genuinely apologetic.
‘Even so, we really should have warned you. Actually, we had planned to ask you and Flynn up to the flat this evening so we can all get to know each other better. Even better,’ she added with a smile, ‘why don’t you come up to the flat at five and we’ll have a glass of wine together? After all, we’re all going to be working very closely together, so we want to get off on the right foot.’
Working very closely together.Lara’s nerve endings jumped.
There was a crackle from the pocket of Fiona’s ancient Barbour. ‘Sorry, must get this.’ She plucked a radio from her pocket. ‘Hello. Jazz. Yes, yes, I’m on my way now. Give me two ticks!’ She listened to Jazz for a few seconds before turning back to Lara. ‘Sorry, Jazz needs me to finalise the menu for the reception. I must go. See you later in the flat. Well done, darling! You’re a star.’
Lara could well imagine her friend and colleague, Jazz, tactfully trying to persuade Fiona to make a decision regarding the evening’s menu. The reception was a PR and networking exercise for local suppliers, representatives from the tourist board, and hotel and accommodation providers. It had been Lara’s idea as a way of showcasing Ravendale as an attraction at both Christmas and in the coming year ahead. It was important it went well and that they convinced the invitees to add Ravendale to their list of recommendations to guests.
Lara didn’t see Flynn for the rest of the morning. Presumably he was settling into his cottage, and that afternoon she was busy dipping in and out of two more tours, conducted by other guides, to see how they were getting on.
As dusk fell, she took the chance to see how the light trail construction was going. The cables, bulbs and generators littered the grounds. The only illuminations at the moment were the harsh arc lights for the workforce as they hammered, banged and shouted to each other. Relief filled her. Although the trail had been her baby, she was more than happy to hand the technical duties over to Flynn.
It was past four, so after calling into her cottage to shower and change her fleece for a smart jumper, she headed back to the tower for her final and most important task of the day: checking that the Lucky Chalice had been taken back from the display case to the treasury safe after the last private tour. Lara trusted her guides, but her twelve years’ experience managing historic properties and treasures had taught her never to leave anything to chance.
In the quiet of the treasury, she unlocked the safe and took out the blue leather box from among the other precious items of silver and gold. She put the box on the table and opened the lid. The chalice, about the size of a large gin glass, was nestled inside.
It looked pristine apart from an almost invisible fingerprint on its stem. Reverently, she removed it from its case, checking that the prints were the only marks on it.
She shuddered at the idea of what it was worth, yet it truly was priceless as a symbol of Ravendale and of its centuries of history. It had survived sieges, battles, family feuds and two fires.
‘Lara.’
At the voice behind her, Lara started and lost her grip on the chalice. Time slowed down as it slipped through her fingers and tumbled through the air. With a soft thud, it landed on the oak boards between her feet.
‘Oh God, no!’
Her cry of horror echoed around the room and her heart seemed to stop before she fell to her knees. The chalice was all that mattered now.
CHAPTER THREE
Flynn knelt beside her. Over the past couple of weeks, Lara had often fantasised about having him in this position but she now wished he didn’t exist.
‘No! Please don’t touch it!’ She peered at the chalice, too scared to handle it herself.
‘Bloody hell … it looks OK, though. It doesn’t seem damaged,’ Flynn said.
Lara met his eyes, which were full of remorse. ‘We’d better hope not.’
‘Maybe it’s OK? These boards aren’t like tiles or stone.’
‘Maybe,’ she murmured, finally lifting the chalice as gently as she could and standing up. She placed it on the table carefully, worried it might slip from her unsteady hands again.
‘Can I do anything?’ he asked, on his feet again but keeping his distance.
‘Please don’t touch it!’ Lara said.
Wisely, he stayed silent as Lara peered closer at the glass, inspecting the rim, the bowl, the stem. It looked intact. She let out a breath.
Impossibly, there seemed to be no cracks. Itwasintact, which was a miracle after that fall. Somebody must be looking out for her.
She squinted at the chalice and her heart seemed to stop.No. It couldn’t be.
