Page 34 of Christmas All the Way

‘Unlikely,’ Keeley said firmly. She grinned. ‘It’ll be like old times, except we can afford to eat properly now.’

The more Grace thought about it, the more the idea of avoiding the long drive back and forth to work appealed. Besides, Keeley was right – they had shared a house before, back in their student days. There was no reason they couldn’t co-exist in harmony again now. ‘If you’re sure.’

‘Absolutely,’ Keeley said. ‘And I promise not to keep you up late. Those days are long gone.’

She let out another yawn, which made Grace laugh. ‘What on earth are you reading? It must be a real page-turner if it’s keeping you up.’

Her friend looked up, her expression a mixture of excitement and wariness. ‘Can I tell you a secret?’

More secrets, Grace thought, her stomach swooping as her thoughts flew back to Ivy’s distress that morning. But this was Keeley, her oldest friend, and there was only one possible answer. ‘Of course.’

‘You can’t tell anyone,’ Keeley went on. ‘Not Jack, not your mum. Most definitely not your old work colleagues.’

‘Why would I tell any of them?’ Grace said, perplexed. ‘Wait, this isn’t something to do with you and Xander, is it?’

Her friend’s gaze did not quite meet hers. ‘No. Why would it be?’

‘It is!’ Grace crowed exultantly, seeing guilt flash across Keeley’s face. ‘Have you snogged?’

Keeley’s expression grew pained. ‘No, we have not snogged, because we are not teenagers.’ She paused. ‘We might have shared a brief kiss, but that isn’t what I want to talk to you about.’

Grace grinned. ‘I knew it! I knew you fancied the pants off each other. When did it happen? Where did it happen? Tell me everything.’

‘On Wednesday night,’ Keeley admitted. ‘In the library at the cottage. But it doesn’t matter right now because something else happened that’s much more important.’

Grace sat back in her chair. ‘More important than you getting it on with a man who looks like a Greek god? Have you taken leave of your senses?’

Keeley did not answer. Instead, she nodded at the plate in front of Grace. ‘Are you going to eat any more of that?’

‘Not right now,’ Grace replied, folding her arms. ‘I am officially agog. I want to hear the mysterious secret that beats your first snog in I don’t know how long.’

Her friend gave her a long-suffering look. ‘Have you quite finished?’

‘No,’ Grace said, smirking unrepentantly. ‘But I’m prepared to behave myself if you promise to tell me all about you and Xander afterwards.’

‘Absolutely not,’ Keeley said in a crisp tone and got to her feet. ‘Now wash your hands and dry them thoroughly and don’t touch anything afterwards. I’ve got something to show you that’s going to blow your mind.’

Intrigued in spite of herself, Grace did as she was told. Keeley led her into the living room and withdrew an unmarked cardboard box from under the coffee table. The walls and lid were a dull beige. Grace couldn’t see what was inside but she recognised unbleached cardboard when she saw it. ‘What’s this? A rare book?’

‘Something like that,’ Keeley said, sinking onto the sofa. ‘There’s a protective cotton wrapper inside. Open it carefully and don’t, whatever you do, sneeze.’

Sitting beside her, Grace took the box. Lifting the lid, she saw the plain cloth Keeley had described, folded across a rectangle that was looked too large to be a book. With steady hands, she drew the overlapping material aside and looked down. Her heart stuttered in her chest when she saw the name on the cover page. ‘The Merriest Month? I’ve never heard of it.’

‘Neither had I,’ Keeley admitted. ‘Xander and I found it hidden in the library on Wednesday night. I thought at first it might be an old draft, one that Eliza had retitled, but I was wrong.’ She looked at Grace, all trace of weariness gone. ‘It’s a new book. A previously unknown manuscript – one she didn’t mention in her diaries or anywhere else.’

‘Bloody hell,’ Grace whispered reverently. ‘That’s incredible. Is it definitely one of hers?’

Keeley pursed her lips. ‘The style matches. Luckily, we have plenty of verified handwriting samples, so I’ve compared it to some of her diaries across the years. I’m not an expert, obviously, but it looks like her writing to me.’

Grace reached out a hand to touch the cover page, marvelling at the preservation well over a century and a half after it was written, and then thought better of it. ‘What’s it about?’

Keeley smiled. ‘It’s the usual Eliza mix – despicable men, smart women battling for independence and a hefty slice of astute social commentary. Most of the action is set in London and there’s a fairly grim description of the Rookery in St Giles that makes me suspect she followed in Charles Dickens’ footsteps and actually visited the place, which was brave of her, given what a den of iniquity it was. But all of that pales into insignificance compared to the headline news.’ Her eyes danced as she gazed at Grace. ‘Which is that it’s a Christmas book. Eliza wrote a romantic festive novel, complete with Christmas trees and snow and culminating in an actual frost fair on the River Thames. Can you believe it?’

A burble of laughter escaped Grace. ‘What? But no one was writing about Christmas then – apart from Dickens, obviously, and as brilliant as A Christmas Carol is, I don’t think anyone would compare it to modern, feel-good festive fiction.’

‘I know!’ Keeley said, and bounced in her seat. ‘That’s what makes it all the more incredible. And I defy even Hollywood to come up with a more perfect backdrop for a marriage proposal than a frost fair. I loved it, maybe even a little bit more than her other books.’

It certainly sounded magical, Grace thought as her head whirled with the implications. Keeley was right: the whole story was mind-blowing. ‘That is high praise. Have you told the trustees?’