Page 25 of All We Want for Christmas
Lara thought wistfully of her own home. Her mother wouldn’t have taken their artificial tree out of the loft yet but she would very soon, even though she was heading off to Australia as soon as the primary school, where she was head teacher, broke up. Her father worked from home as an IT consultant.
She wished she could find time to go home before they went to Australia, but it was impossible. Ten thousand miles suddenly seemed a very long way indeed compared to two hundred.
Henry insisted on making them all tea in the apartment kitchen, even though Lara was worried he should be resting.
‘Let him, my dear,’ Fiona murmured, once her husband was out of earshot. ‘It’s good to see him getting back on hisfeet and wanting to do more. He may sound full of bravado, but he’s had quite a scare. At least the doctors are keeping an eye on Henry now. He’s not amused and he feels he’s “in their clutches”, but I’m very glad he is.’
Lara was amused, even though she felt for Henry. ‘I can imagine.’
‘When he collapsed and I was in that ambulance, holding his hand, I genuinely thought that our luck had run out. But now that last night has gone so well, I do feel our fortunes are turning again.’
Lara was keen to move away from the topic of luck and onto the Spectacular. ‘I’m so pleased that you think that everything went well last night …’
For the next twenty minutes they all discussed the evening, what had worked well and also any minor glitches. Lara found herself using Flynn’s name a lot. ‘Flynn fixed it …’ and ‘Flynn suggested …’
She really must try to stop herself.
After lunch, which consisted of a cinnamon bun, coffee, and a catch-up with Jazz in the Castle Café, Lara had a meeting with the guides to discuss the following week’s tour schedule. She then had to go up to the treasury to return a miniature painting of the nativity that had been out on display.
She went to turn the key in the oak door and found it already unlocked. Had it been left open or was someone inside? Her pulse rate rose as she walked inside.
‘Fiona! What are you doing up here?’
Fiona glanced up with a frown of annoyance and immediately Lara realised how rude she’d been.
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I was just taken aback to see someone in here when I thought the door was locked. How rude of me. What I meant to say was: how can I help you?’
Fiona smiled. ‘It’s all right, my dear. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was only in here to collect one of our special treasures from the safe.’
Lara felt light-headed. ‘You were?’
‘Yes. Some woman from the telly is desperate to see St Anselm’s finger. We all know the bone is from some long-dead and unfortunate animal, but she insisted on seeing it for herself.’
‘Oh. I see, yes, of course.’ Lara stifled a sigh of relief.
‘I hope you’re not cross. This woman – Lucy Wotsit – gosh, I keep forgetting her surname – called me this morning and said she’s doing some research up here for a programme about fake relics and could she call in? I should have told her we’re far too busy but I didn’t dare.’
‘No. She might give Ravendale some publicity.’
‘She might, until she sees this old piece of bone. I had wondered whether to show her the chalice …’
Lara’s throat seemed to seize up.
‘However, it was St Anselm she was interested in. I’ll mention the chalice to her. Though, frankly, the sooner I can get rid of her, the better. I’m taking Henry to a hospital appointment at four.’
‘Do you want me to see her?’ Lara offered, hoping to take control.
‘Would you? You’re so busy.’ Fiona’s phone went off. ‘Bugger. The woman’s here already.’
Lara dived in. ‘I can bring St Anselm down to you if you want to go and greet her. It’s no trouble!’
‘That would be wonderful. We’ll be in the drawing room having coffee.’
Lara waited until she heard the doors on the lift being slid back and a faint whirr as the lift descended. Once Fiona was safely gone, she heaved a sigh of relief, closed the strong room door, unlocked the safe and retrieved the carved wooden casket that contained the ‘finger’. The box was about the size of a small jewellery box, with a carving of Saint Anselm on its lid.
She placed it carefully on the table while she relocked the safe and scrambled the combination.
‘Hi there. Not thinking of doing a runner with the chalice, are you?’
