Chapter 24
‘ A re you seriously going to drive all the way back to London tonight?’ said Theo, as they trudged back down the ancient stone steps that led to the railway station.
‘It’ll be fine,’ said Mirren.
‘I’d be happy to share the driving ...’
‘You’ve done more than enough,’ said Mirren. ‘Thank you so much.’
A direct train to London came first and, rather reluctantly, Theo got on it, encouraged by Mirren. It was not the kind where you could pull the window down. Instead, he kept pressing the button to open the door, which was not nearly so romantic and tended to beep loudly in their ears. Nonetheless, as the departure time approached, he still leaned out of it.
‘In the absence of being able to exchange letters,’ said Theo, ‘could I ... could I perhaps take your number?’
Mirren couldn’t help smiling as they swapped. ‘Can you Snapchat me?’ he said. ‘Then I can at least see from the map that you’re on your way home, and not upside down in a ditch.’
‘You are unflatteringly worried about my driving,’ said Mirren.
‘Fine lady, forgive me, it is so,’ he said, bowing deeply.
As the train started up, she sent him a smiley face on Snapchat, along with three books in a row. Then the doors beeped once more and the long sleek train started to ease its way out of the old station, gathering speed as she waved.
Her own train, going through the pitch dark, was much slower, stopping everywhere this time, and she found herself, almost from the moment she sat down, falling fast asleep. Stations passed in a blur as she started awake each time, then dozed off again, the train the only thing lit in the empty landscape. By the time they reached the town again, she knew she was in absolutely no fit state to drive back to London that night, and found a cheap Airbnb on her phone, tumbled in gratefully, and fell fast asleep.
The next morning, the snow had settled but the sky was clear and the air was frosty and bright. A nice young farmer brought toast and honey for breakfast from their own farm, and good coffee, and Mirren stretched and felt, oddly, not too disappointed about her failed mission. Or at least, she was sanguine. Time to stop chasing about. She would go back to London, cuddle up to her great-aunt, enjoy every second they had left. She’d read her The Dark is Rising , that was a good Christmas book. They could enjoy that. And her mother ... well, she’d figure that out too when she got back. But she would endeavour not to be sulky or rise to things. She would try to bring home the true lovely spirit of Christmas. Perhaps they could even read around the fire on Christmas Day. She’d at least mention it to her brothers. Stop Mum fretting too much about stupid bread sauce and other things that simply didn’t matter.
She crunched her way through the white early morning streets, enjoying breaking puddle ice with her too-thin boots, pleasingly full of toast and sweet honey, and was happy and quite surprised to see her car, needing its windows scraped but otherwise fixed and untouched, even the swimming costume. In London, it would have been towed days ago, and probably squashed into a cube by now.
She turned the heaters on full blast and sat inside, waiting for the windscreen to fully defrost. Feeling in her pocket, she pulled out the piece of paper from Ramsay.
It was an address back in Scotland – of course it was, she thought to herself. A wild goose chase, this entire thing. She plugged it into her phone.
It was only an hour away.