I bit my lip, not sure how to answer this perfectly accurate observation. I was most relieved when Lando squeezed Caspy’s shoulders and said, ‘You’re right. You never know who the real one is, that’s part of the fun. He’s so busy that he has to have lots of helpers at this time of year to find out what all the children would like in their stockings. But I think hemustbe the real one, remember the reindeer?’
I smiled gratefully at him as Caspy nodded vigorously and stepped forward.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘What a wonderful answer.’
‘I love seeing them so happy,’ he replied. ‘God knows life gets hard enough as you get older, so you’ve got to keep the magic going as long as you can.’
‘Don’t you think there’s room in all our lives for a little magic?’
He didn’t answer at first, but caught and held my gaze with an unreadable expression. I began to feel flustered, dizzy, but couldn’t drag my eyes away from his. Eventually he spoke.
‘I didn’t used to think that, no.’
I was saved from answering by the children bouncing back over, each clutching a brightly wrapped present.
‘Heisthe real one, Uncle Lando, you were right.’
‘He said the reindeer would remember us and take him extra quickly to our house.’
Chattering and waving, we left the log cabin and the enchanted forest, to cross a vast lawn back towards the house, where George was waiting for us.
‘You all look like you’ve had a wonderful time,’ he said, ushering us into an immaculate blue and cream room where on a low table between squashy sofas stood a four-tier cake stand laden with macarons, tiny, iced cakes and biscuits thick with chocolate. We sat down and he started to pour tea and hand out delicate little plates for us to load up with goodies. ‘Even you look cheerful, Lando – a bit of our woodland magic must have rubbed off.’
‘Something like that,’ he answered drily, taking a biscuit.
‘Uncle Landohasbeen more cheerful,’ piped up Seraphina, who had somehow already managed to get more icing around her mouth than had surely ever been on her cake. ‘He’s smiling much more than he used to.’
George looked pointedly at me and gave me a huge, theatrical wink.
‘I’m not remotely surprised,’ he answered.
I didn’t dare look at Lando, but busied myself wiping the children’s faces and fussing over non-existent crumbs. Surely, Lando would put George straight, explain that I was just the mother’s help, not the future Mrs Lord, but instead he asked about George’s children while I was left confused, my mind whizzing through a million different thoughts, of which my imminent Indian adventure was the very least.
When we arrived back at the house, we found Bunny looking vastly better, having managed to both finish her difficult commission and get some rest. She and the twins fell into each other’s arms, and I was so glad to see their delight in one other.
‘Pixie, thank you for today. I was simply indespairthis morning, but everything seems lighter now. I’ll take my darlings from here, it’s been too long since I’ve sat with them at teatime and put them to bed and I can’t wait. I’ve got Pilar to shore me up if I fail too terribly.’
I turned to Lando.
‘I can come and pose now then, if you’d like? I don’t think I could eat a morsel of supper after that wonderful tea George gave us.’
He agreed, and we walked together towards the studio without speaking. For once my tendency to gabble and fill silences had dried up, and as he held open the door to that fragrant haven, I wondered what further magic the day might hold.
THIRTEEN
The heavy atmosphere between Lando and me didn’t lift as he draped the robe around me again. If anything, the brush of his hand on my skin as he fixed the pins was even more electrifying than previously, and I was at once terrified that he would notice my rising desire and desperate to spill it all out. As he went over to his workbench, I relaxed a fraction and let my mind wander back to the day we had spent together, a day of simple pleasures and easy company, punctuated by that lingering gaze and the confusion over why he hadn’t corrected George as to the reason for my presence.
He worked for nearly an hour, then placed his chisel down, picked up the figure and rubbed it all over with a soft cloth.
‘Penny? I think she’s finished.’
‘May I see?’
‘Of course.’
I took the carving from him and turned the warm, smooth wood in my hand. I’m no art critic, but even I could tell that this was spectacularly good. Beautifully and sensitively carved, the fabric had fluidity and Mary’s face radiated peace and love. Her lips curved in a soft smile and her eyes, whilst gentle, held the faintest whisper of humour.
‘How is it possible?’ I said, looking at Lando in wonder, seeing this man who could be so grumpy that it verged on being curt, in a different light. ‘How can you create something so –alive– just from wood? It’s absolutely beautiful.’
