A Little Bit of Christmas Magic

by Kirsty Ferry

  ‘Yes, but it’s much nicer since they revamped the Park and knocked the two rooms into one again. It just looks better. I love the piano.’ Ailsa nodded towards it. ‘I bet it got a bit chilly over there, though, away from the fireplace!’

  ‘Well perhaps it wasn’t always there,’ suggested Ned. ‘Look – I’ve got a bottle of wine here’ He nodded to one of the tables by the fire. ‘Can I prevail upon you to share it with me? Once you’re finished work, of course. We can chat about the old-fashioned Carrick Park. Try to establish which room was which, that kind of thing. I love old places and history.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ailsa looked a little thrown. ‘I’m very tempted. I officially finished work about three hours ago, to be honest, but I’ve just been hanging around and finishing bits and bobs off since then. I’m staying here tonight – it’s just easier than going home if I’ve got to be here early in the morning anyway. Perk of the job. But you’ve only got one glass.’

  ‘That’s easily resolved,’ said Ned. He looked at the door. ‘It would be good if they still had bell-pulls, wouldn’t it? As it is, I’ll nip out and ask the girl on reception.’

  ‘Tara. Her name’s Tara,’ replied Ailsa. ‘But it’s fine, I can go and get one—’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t dream of it. You sit down, you’ve been working. I’ve been lounging around most of the evening. I’ll go. I won’t tell her it’s for you. She might get jealous that you can relax and she can’t.’

  Ailsa laughed. ‘Good plan. Okay.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’ll wait here.’

  ‘I won’t be long,’ promised Ned. He looked at her as she sat down by the fireplace and a smile curved his lips. She was lovely. Absolutely lovely.

  He’d known her straight away.

  Chapter Two

  Ailsa sat down and watched the man – Ned – walk out of the room, long-legged and well-toned. Even his back view was pretty nice.

  The strangest thing was, that she definitely felt she already knew Ned. At first, she had thought he was part of Gabe’s entourage; someone she must have seen with the bridegroom-to-be on one of his visits to the hotel. But as she talked to him, she realised it was a different sort of recognition – she was no psychologist, but she knew the innermost workings of a person’s mind could create all sorts of situations; and it seemed that this man had been dredged out of her innermost workings and brought to life, somehow, before her.

  For years, she’d had fractured dreams of someone who looked just like this Ned did – tall, dark-haired, pale-skinned and altogether a pretty nice package. He was never quite clear in the dreams, though, apart from his eyes, which were always dark and seemed to drill right into her heart. She largely put the dreams down to the fact that she worked, day-in, day-out with loved-up couples – and if anyone had ever asked her what her ideal man looked like she would answer without hesitation: “tall, dark and handsome”. It was such a cliché, but it was true. Ailsa had always been attracted to dark-haired men. And if that was her only vice, dreaming about a man who may or may not exist, then so what? Ned was certainly up there with the best of them.

  It had to be a psychological thing, it had to be. He was a lot like the man she dreamed about, but people generally didn’t step out of your dreams and into your life, did they? No. It had to be a combination of things; she was attracted to men that looked like Ned, she dreamed about men who looked like Ned, and Ned – well – he obviously looked like Ned and it was the overall impression of Ned that sparked that strange little jolt of recognition. The subconscious mind was a powerful thing.

  His face was so pale and his dark eyes were such a contrast it had been difficult to drag her own gaze away from them. She’d had the sense he’d felt a similar pull – but maybe that was just wishful thinking. One of her brides had once told her she just “clicked” with her partner and Ailsa had always wondered about that – whether such a thing could happen or not. Ned was most definitely something different and she already decided that she liked him, even in the brief few minutes they had spent together. Or maybe it was just a little bit of harmless lust and/or flirtation at the end of a very long day. All she had wanted to do was flop into bed after her patrol of the drawing room, but now it didn’t seem like too much of a chore to spend a little bit of time here on Christmas Eve and just absorb the magic that was and always had been Carrick Park.

  ‘Here we go.’ The door opened and Ned walked in with an extra glass. ‘She didn’t ask too many questions, but I could see it in her eyes. I must look furtive.’

  ‘Furtive. That’s a good word,’ said Ailsa. ‘She’ll give me an inquisition next time I see her – fraternising with the wedding guests and such like. But hey – all I have to tell her is we were discussing Carrick Park. She might think I was drumming up business.’

  ‘She might,’ replied Ned. He poured her a drink and handed her the glass. ‘Merry Christmas,’ he said, raising his own.

  ‘Merry Christmas!’ she replied. She took a sip of the wine and settled back in the seat. ‘It’s a shame it’s not mulled. It would have been nice for Christmas Eve.’

  ‘I think they used to put pokers in their glasses to stir them up. Maybe we should try that for you?’ Ned made a big show of getting a poker and putting it in the flames. He looked up at her quizzically, the golden and red shadows burnishing his slightly stubbled cheeks.

  ‘No thanks. Knowing my luck, I’d shatter the glass with the heat. Then I’d spend half the night picking up bits of glass so people don’t hurt themselves tomorrow. And that would be my relaxing Christmas Eve finished before it had even started.’

  ‘That’s your luck, though. Here, let me do it. I promise it won’t shatter and if it does, I’ll pick it up, okay?’

  Ailsa shook her head and laughed. ‘If you can promise me you’ll not damage anything, then go for it. But we haven’t got any spices in it, so it can’t be proper mulled wine, can it?’

  ‘Let me work a little bit of Christmas magic,’ said Ned with a smile. ‘I guarantee it’ll taste like the proper stuff after I’ve finished. May I?’ He held the poker up and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Go on then.’ Ailsa could feel the giggles bubbling up as she held the glass out.

  Sure enough, Ned put the poker in and stirred the liquid very carefully. ‘There we go. Try that.’

  ‘All right.’ Ailsa smiled, sceptical, and tilted the glass to her lips. To her surprise, she tasted a warm, spicy liquid, with definite hints of cinnamon and cloves. ‘Ooh,’ she said. ‘That is nice.’

  ‘Maybe it’s the power of suggestion, maybe it’s magic,’ said Ned with a grin. ‘Or maybe, perhaps more likely, it’s just what that brand of red tastes like.’ He heated the poker up again and did the same to his own drink. ‘Mmm, that is good. And not a hint of ash.’ He held the poker up and studied it. ‘It is truly magical.’

  Ailsa felt the warmth of the wine travel down into her tummy and smiled over the top of the glass. Those eyes! He was staring right at her and she felt her cheeks burn up a little; which might, of course, have been the effect of the alcohol.

  She tore her gaze away and looked into the flames. ‘They don’t usually leave pokers and things near the fires,’ she mused. ‘Maybe they were trying for a bit of atmosphere in here. I’m not complaining.’

  ‘Best not to mention it,’ replied Ned. He replaced the poker in the brass bucket next to the fire and sat back in his seat. ‘Talking of bell-pulls, have they still got the old bells down in the corridors? I’ve been here lots of times, but I have to say I’ve never really been down there – obviously! I suspect there’s not much reason for guests to be down there – but I know in a lot of these places they keep them as a curiosity.’

  ‘Oh, they’re still there. I pass them all the time. The offices are down that way. If it’s late at night and I’m on my own, I must confess I run past them. I just think what would happen if one of them rang? I’d probably run straight out of the back door. There’s a courtyard out there and it says in that book there used be
a fountain in the middle of it.’

  ‘Oh yes – the angel fountain.’ Ned nodded thoughtfully. ‘I bet that was a sight to behold.’

  ‘I wish it was still there, but it got destroyed in the 1860s. Such a shame.’

  ‘Yes, it’s not good when things like that happen.’ Ned looked at the book and leaned towards the coffee table. He picked it up and flicked through it. ‘It would have been nice if they’d managed to get some photos of the fountain, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘I suppose photography would have been something very new at that time.’ Ailsa took another drink thoughtfully. ‘So much is lost, isn’t it? We’re lucky now that we have camera-phones.’

  ‘Yes. Unless you were good at art, you really lost all those little moments.’

  ‘We kind of think they were just static pictures – all those old paintings and suchlike. It’s hard to remember there were living, breathing people behind them.’ Ailsa’s thoughts wandered to Lady Eleanor, frozen in her wedding dress on the staircase. Not for the first time, she wished she could meet Ella – but not in a ghost form. In a human form. Yes, a human Ella would be beyond exciting.

  She was just about to voice that thought to Ned, when she realised his attention had been caught by something over her shoulder.

  Ailsa followed his gaze and, when he spoke, he sounded astonished. ‘Well now. Would you credit it. It’s snowing.’

  ‘Really?’ Ailsa put her glass down and jumped to her feet. She ran over to the window. ‘So it is! I wonder if it’ll settle? It’s usually too wet, this close to the coast.’

  ‘I’ve seen some heavy snowfall over here before.’

  Ailsa sensed he had moved close beside her and sure enough he leaned towards the window, looking outside. ‘I don’t know if it will settle, particularly. It’s melting on the tarmac.’

  ‘Probably just as well. We don’t want guests snowed in. Or unable to get here. That’s the worry.’

  ‘I can think of worse places to be trapped in a snowfall.’ Ned smiled and turned his back to the window, leaning against the sill, folding his arms.

  ‘Oh gosh, absolutely!’ agreed Ailsa. ‘It must have been beautiful when the Carricks lived here – not having to go anywhere, not worrying about getting to work. Just enjoying looking out at the weather and warming their toes by the fireplace.’

  ‘Mulled wine and mince pies and music,’ added Ned, nodding. ‘I’m sure they had their little amusements outside too.’

  ‘I’m sure they did. You know, I was chatting to Tara before and she was teasing me. She said she’d heard carols playing on the piano.’ Ailsa laughed. ‘I think she was trying to scare me. There’s supposed to be a ghost in here who plays the piano, but I’ve never heard anything. Anyway, like I told her, Ella Carrick is only meant to play Mozart.’

  ‘Ella,’ said Ned, smiling. ‘The girl in the Landseer.’

  ‘Lady Eleanor, yes.’

  ‘I doubt she would intentionally scare anybody,’ said Ned. ‘She seems far too nice for that.’

  ‘I agree. I sometimes wonder what keeps her here, though. She must have loved the place very much, yet she was only a Carrick by marriage.’

  ‘She grew up with the family though. She must have felt safe here – it was probably a big, scary world for her, without the love and support of her friends.’ Ned was staring into the fireplace, deep in thought. ‘I can’t even begin to think about it – she was completely deaf by the time she was about seventeen, wasn’t she? Maybe even earlier.’ He shook his head. ‘And to play the piano like she did – incredible.’

  ‘Yes, it tells us quite a bit about her in the book. It really is a fascinating piece of work. It’s advertised on our website as well, and we find a lot of people come here because they’ve read about the family.’

  ‘That makes sense.’ Ned turned and smiled at her. ‘A fascinating family, I would say.’

  ‘Completely. Yet I often wonder what their lives were actually like,’ said Ailsa, almost without thinking. ‘Whether anything could have been done to stop what happened. Whether anyone could have warned them. I sometimes wish I could go back in time, you know, just to advise them. It’s silly, isn’t it? We can’t change the past. But I do so wish I could go back and meet Ella.’

  ‘We can’t change the past.’ agreed Ned, ‘but I think you have to understand that they lived in blissful ignorance.’ He smiled wryly. ‘They enjoyed the time they had.’

  ‘Maybe that’s the best way to be.’ Ailsa smiled up at him. ‘I do wish I could go back though, even just for a day, to see how they lived. It must have been wonderful at Christmas time. The Park is so special at any time of the year, but I think when we have the tree and the decorations up, it just raises it to that next level. Ah well, on that note, I should go. It’s getting late, so much as I’ve loved chatting to you, I’d best get off to bed. Thank you for the mulled wine. It was very special to spend some time in here tonight, in the quiet. So lovely. But I’ve got a busy day tomorrow and two people who are relying on me to set them on the road to wedded bliss.’ She looked around the drawing room. ‘It’ll look completely different tomorrow – full of flowers and people. But I quite like it as it is, to be honest. I’ll just let the night porters work their magic in here and hide away.’

  ‘And you say you’ll be here overnight?’

  ‘Yes. Like I said, my job is wonderful and sometimes I get to spend the night in a beautiful old house. I might bump into you tomorrow, but you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t chat much or if I rush by and look stressed. I’ve never done a Christmas Day wedding before, but it shouldn’t be much different really.’

  Ned smiled. ‘I’m sure it’ll be perfect. And I’m sure I’ll see you – I’ll keep an eye out for you. Will you do the same for me?’

  Ailsa laughed, secretly delighted that this dark-haired, dark-eyed man would be looking out for her. ‘Of course I will. It was lovely meeting you. And thanks for your faith in me – what are the chances of me carrying off a Christmas Day wedding without going into meltdown? Don’t answer that one!’

  ‘I won’t,’ replied Ned, grinning. ‘It was lovely to meet you too.’

  She smiled and turned, collecting her iPad and hurrying out of the room before she was tempted to dilly-dally any longer. But how lovely; how lovely it had been to sit and chat with him, perfectly relaxed, in front of a low fire on Christmas Eve in Carrick Park. She wondered with a pang what her aunt and uncle were doing right now; given the time difference, they were probably waking up on Christmas morning. And they would be so much warmer over there than they would have been in Derbyshire or the Borders with her other cousins.

  Ailsa, personally, wouldn’t have minded shivering with them all in Scotland like they usually did at Christmas. But if she couldn’t spend Christmas Eve with her family, there were, she reasoned, worse places to be than Carrick Park. With Ned. In front of that fire.

  She dipped her head and hid another smile. The encounter had made her feel a bit better about being alone at Christmas – despite the fact she’d be surrounded by about sixty people if you counted the wedding party. But that wasn’t really the same, was it?

  Ailsa passed Tara on reception as she headed up the stairs and waved at her. ‘Happy Christmas!’ Ailsa said, her voice sounding too loud in the quiet room. ‘Not long now.’

  ‘Just a couple of hours to go,’ replied Tara, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. ‘Then I’ll be off. Hopefully the family trauma will be over by the time I get back. Mum always loses a Christmas present at the last minute and Dad will still be wrapping his stuff. And my brothers will be drunk because they’ve been in the pub since tea-time.’

  ‘Well have a lovely day anyway. I’ll see you on the other side.’

  ‘And I hope it goes well tomorrow! Have fun.’

  ‘I’ll try.’ Ailsa cast a quick glance at the Landseer as she passed it, as she always did, and silently wished Ella a Merry Christmas, wherever she was tonight.

  She climbed the extr
a set of steps that led up to the third floor and headed to one of the little rooms that were reserved for staff. The fact that they had been servants’ quarters meant the rooms were small and functional, tucked away into the eaves, but were perfectly adequate. She let herself in, kicked her shoes off and put her iPad on the desk beneath the window.

  Next stop was the bathroom, stripping her work clothes off as she went, and a quick shower before slipping into her pyjamas. It should have been too late to read. It should have been too late to do anything really, except sleep; but, once she had snuggled into the narrow bed, she reached out and grabbed the book she had left on the side table. It was her own copy of Becky Nelson’s biography of the Carrick family. It was slightly tattered and she’d read it many times – but it was like an old friend. Something she could dip in and out of, especially just to settle her mind before bed. And that’s what she intended to do tonight. Chatting to Ned had enthused her all over again about the Carrick Park she wished she could have known better.

  Ella Carrick was the most fascinating part of that book – she, like Ailsa, had lost her parents when she was young and been brought up by an aunt. Unlike Ailsa, she had found a place where she belonged, unquestionably. That place, was in Adam Carrick’s heart, and by the side of her best friend Lydia. Ailsa knew that the little girl Ailsa had been would have fantasised over Ella’s life and wished she could have lived it – despite the challenges it must have posed. Ella had managed and managed very well, it seemed. She never tired of reading about Ella and her fairy tale love story; it wasn’t so pleasant reading about what had happened to her and Adam at the end, but the bits leading up to that, and how they eventually realised what they meant to each other, were beautiful.

  On a night like tonight, when it was all magical and Christmassy and she was pleasantly tired, the idea of spending just one day with Ella, one Christmas Eve, perhaps, was almost a physical need. How wonderful it must have been! How wonderful to be in the midst of one’s surrogate family and to love and be loved as Ella was.