‘Yes, I said the same thing!’ I said. ‘Come on, everyone, what can you come up with?’
There was a momentary pause as everyone thought, then Constance said:
‘What about an “Open Fire”? You know, chestnuts roasting and all that.’
‘Or “Home Fir Christmas”?’ suggested Coco.
‘“Fir-ytale of New York”?’ came in Alexander, and I piped up with:
‘“All I Want Fir Christmas is You”?’
We were all laughing at the terrible puns when Theo spoke up shyly:
‘I’ve got an idea – “Gin-gle Bells”.’
‘Theo, that’s brilliant!’ I said, and he beamed with pride. ‘We might have to take you on as a marketing advisor. We could do loads with that – Gin-gle Bell Rock, Gin-gle all the Way…’
‘Gin Gin Merrily on High,’ suggested Constance, to gales of laughter.
‘Well, we’ll try them tonight and see what feels right,’ said Alexander. ‘But you all get a free cocktail at the Christmas Fayre – an alcohol-free one for you, of course,’ he added, hugging his son.
‘If you’re feeling very generous,’ said Constance, ‘you’ll let me take Theo now. After all, you have had him all afternoon, and the muse will wait an hour or so for me. We can play that complicated board game you like and then I’ll read you a story about Tutankhamun.’
‘Yes, please!’ said Theo, then turned to his father. ‘Is that okay, Dad?’
‘More than okay,’ said Alexander, smiling. ‘Come on, let’s get this lot in the dishwasher and we can all go about our evenings.’
Once we had finished clearing up, Alexander and I gathered together some glasses, the syrups, a bucket of ice and a bottle of his gin.
‘I thought that rather than sitting in the kitchen or Hall you might like to see a part of the house you haven’t been in yet?’ said Alexander.
‘I’d love to,’ I said enthusiastically, and he led me through the Hall to a small door at the back I hadn’t noticed before. It led into a narrow corridor running to our left and right, with another door in front of us.
‘If you go left,’ he explained, ‘you end up back at the kitchen and Buttery and my study. There was a servants’ hall at some point, but that is long demolished. Go right and you’ll find yourself on the other side of the entrance hall. There’s a room there that we call the Library, but it’s in a shocking state of disrepair so we don’t use it.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe one day I’llbe able to restore it, but at least it’s watertight for now. It’s this room I wanted to show you.’ He gestured to the closed door in front of us. ‘It doesn’t look like much at first, but I’ll explain once we’re inside.’
He opened the door, switched on the light, and stepped back to let me through. I entered a very small room with an uneven, boarded floor. The walls were plaster with some kind of crude painting on them, covered in rough timber beams. There was a small, curtainless window in the facing wall, beneath which sat a large wooden chest. Two old-fashioned, high-backed leather chairs stood on either side of a plain table. Simple though it was, the room exuded such atmosphere that I caught my breath and took a step back.
‘What do you think?’ said Alexander quietly, stepping forward to put the bottles and glasses on the table.
‘It’s…it’s –amazing,’ I said, gazing round and drinking it in. ‘I don’t knowwhyit’s amazing, but there’s something about it…’ I trailed off, feeling foolish for being so overwhelmed by this ugly little room. But Alexander smiled.
‘You feel it. So do I. It’s a very special room. It was built as a small oratory or chapel and would have been quite ornate at one time, but all that had to be stripped out during the Reformation. The chest is where the altar would have been, and the only things that remain are the wall paintings.’
I walked over and looked at them more carefully.
‘What are they of?’ I asked. ‘They don’t look very religious.’
‘No, that’s how they got away with leaving them there – they just look like a pattern, but they’re droplets of blood and water, see? They represent the Passion of Christ – the last events of his life.’
‘How incredible. I can’t believe you have these in your home, paintings that were done, what, five hundred years ago?’
‘About that. They are important and we’ve taken serious steps to conserve them, with specialist help. People are able to visit here, by appointment – mostly Catholic church groups – but I would like to make it more publicly available. Maybe one day. For now, we can enjoy them with a drink. The room was deconsecrated centuries ago, so it’s not a chapel anymore.’ We sat down. ‘Right, which would you like to try first?’
‘How about the pine? It smells delicious.’
He carefully measured out the drinks according to a recipe we had found online, adding ice and the local tonic he had found, then we both took a tentative sip.
‘Oh! That’s incredible!’ I exclaimed, surprised that our experiment had worked. ‘It tastes almost citrusy, doesn’t it, but the smell is Christmas in a glass. I love it.’
