“You won’t need a Mona Lisa,” said Matt. He led her by the hand to one of the sofas. On it was a big brown package. “Here,” he said. “Unwrap it.”
Philly eagerly did as he suggested. “The Robespierre painting,” she said, frowning.
“I know, technically it’s not a present, because it already belongs to you,” said Matt. “I have brought you a proper present but I wanted you to see this first.”
“But it will have to go the police, darling,” said Philly. “With all the others.”
“No, it won’t. I took it to Scattergood … Harry … whatever his darn name is, in prison, and he told me all about it. Your godmother commissioned it, so it definitely belongs to you, as the one who inherited her estate.”
“It’s not a copy?” said Philly.
“No, it’s the real deal, and probably worth a lot of money what with all the recent publicity. It might even help towards the upkeep of the house. Anyway, he told me all about it. The full title is The Robyn Watches The Nightingale.” His words brought a shiver to Philly’s spine. She could not decide if it was a good shiver or a bad one.
As if sensing her conflicted emotions, Matt put his arms around her and they stood looking at the picture together. “Darling, the little figure in the painting, in the red anorak, is you, with the bird representing your godmother, Robyn. Scattergood said to notice how the bird is looking away from the house, because she has found a new purpose. A new reason to live. The little girl who was given into her keeping.”
“Oh Matt.” Philly started to cry. He held her for a long time. “I’ll never sell it,” she said. “You don’t mind, do you? It’s just that I’d rather sell the house than the painting. It shows, I think, that she had some good in her.”
“Why on earth would I mind? You don’t think I care about the money do you?”
“No, well not in that way. I know your family are well off, but I’m broke. I suppose having some money would have equalled the score a bit. I have nothing to offer you.”
“How can you say that? You have yourself. That’s all I want. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I love you, Philly and if you come to me with holes in your shoes and no clothes on your back, I’ll still love you.”
“I’m not quite that bad. I could get a job, a proper job, like Puck’s mother is always nagging him to do.”
“Philly, I can help with the house. You can carry on here.”
“No!” Philly shook her head and pulled away from him a little. “It isn’t worth it, Matt. You were right when you said that it’s people who make a house. Well the people who make this house are Meg and Puck and you. It’s the love and friendship we give and receive from each other that matters. And we can have that anywhere, can’t we?”
“You’re wrong of course,” said Matt.
“You mean we can’t have that anywhere?”
“I mean that it’s you who makes this house. We’re just very lucky that you allow us to share it.”
“I’m the lucky one,” said Philly, kissing him again.
Christmas dinner was the happiest that Philly had ever known. She had all her friends and the man she loved with her. What more could any girl want?
“Me and Puck are going to get married,” said Meg, over dessert.
“I thought you couldn’t afford it,” said Rachel Jensen. “I know, because I’ve had mum on the phone to me, moaning that Puck still hasn’t got a job.”
“We decided that if we waited until we could afford it, we’d never marry,” said Puck. “Besides my biological clock is ticking. If I don’t have a baby soon, I’ll be too old.” Everyone laughed. “Not only that,” said Puck switching to an impersonation of Morgan Freeman. “Being inside changes a man. He realises what’s important. Like love and babies and not being chatted up by a tattooed man called Big Herbie.”
“Puck, you were there for two hours,” said Philly. “In a police cell. There were no Big Herbies at the police station.”
“Maybe not on your block,” said Puck. “But down on C Block things got pretty hairy for a while, and I’m not just talking about Big Herbie’s chest. Anyway, seriously, I love Meg more than anything in the world, and I am going to get a proper job as a chef, so I can support her and all our babies.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Mrs. Cunningham. “I do love a wedding.”
“Yes, and we’d be grateful if the Reverend there would come out of retirement and perform the ceremony.”
“I’d be absolutely delighted,” said Andrew Cunningham.
“It’s a great idea,” said Matt. “Let’s raise a toast to Puck and Meg.” The room was filled with a chorus of congratulations. “But that reminds me, Philly. I forgot to give you my other present.” He put his hands in his pocket and pulled out a small box. “We could make it a double wedding, if the reverend has no objections.”
“I don’t think it’s my decision,” said the reverend, smiling.
“You want to marry me?” said Philly.
“Of course. I have to do something to save you from a life of crime.”
“How do you know I won’t corrupt you?”
“There is an answer to that,” said Matt, “but I’m not going to say it on Christmas Day and with the Reverend and his good lady listening in. Will you marry me?”
“Yes!”
More toasts followed, and everyone got into the party spirit.
“Well, Rachel,” said Joe, coughing. “Whilst we’re on the subject…”
“Not in this lifetime,” said Rachel. She blew him a kiss. “But maybe when you grow up a bit, hey?”
“That’s as good as a yes to me.”
One Year Later
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Matt, standing on the stairs of Bedlington Hall looking down at a crowd of guests. “Welcome to our second Mistletoe and Mystery weekend. You will witness the story of schoolgirl Dominique DuPont, and the secret life she led at Bedlington Hall School. As a special treat, on Saturday night we will be screening the award winning documentary by Rachel Jensen, in which she talks to master forger, Robespierre, about his role in the crime. You will also have the opportunity to talk to teacher, Meredith Cunningham, who taught at the school.”
Not long after Christmas Day the previous year, when Philly remembered to plug the phone in again, they were inundated with people wanting to visit the house and find out about what went on there. As such, nearly every weekend since had been booked up. Not only that, but Philly soon learned just how much film companies were willing to pay to use Bedlington Hall in their dramas. It had not only helped with the upkeep of the hall, but also allowed them to hire more actors and helpers for the murder mystery weekends.
“Robespierre is my brother,” said Irene Bennett proudly, nudging the woman next to her. “He’s still in prison, but I don’t think that’s fair myself. He saved that girl’s life, you know, so it’s possible he might be out soon. There she is.” Mrs. Bennett pointed to Philly. “The pretty blue eyed one with the baby in her arms. The handsome American on the stairs is her husband. Oh and look there’s Meg dressed as Dominique DuPont. She’s married to Puck, the chef. He does that programme on telly, Cooking With Puck.” Mrs. Bennett paused for breath. “Mind you, whilst I’m sure this year’s entertainment will be good, it won’t beat last year. There were real guns and everything. I mean, who would bring a gun to a murder mystery weekend? It’s beyond me.”
Philly stifled a giggle, and looked adoringly at her husband, whilst little one-month old Robyn lay peacefully in her arms. Matt finished his welcoming speech and went down to stand at her side whilst the guests climbed the stairs to their rooms.
“I see that the Nightingale is watching the Robyn,” he whispered.
“Yes,” said Philly. “And I’m never going to let her, or you, out of my sight.”
“And I’ll be watching both of you.”
She followed Matt’s eyes as he looked up the ceiling and grinned. A sprig of mistletoe was strategically placed right above them. O
blivious to the guests around them and mindful of the precious bundle in her arms, Matt kissed Philly passionately.
“Merry Christmas, darling.”
Mistletoe Mystery Page 16