‘Okay. Okay. I can do the eleventh. That is not a problem. Thank you for letting me know, Amy.’
After I hang up, my eyes drop to the cassette player on my lap. I definitely do not have time for this now. I need to be working all day, every day, until 11 December. No interruptions, no distractions. I click off the cassette player’s power, carefully wrap the headphone cord around it, and open my iPhone Notes app.
Robert will have to wait. All the Holbecks will have to wait. Though, judging by their previous track record, that doesn’t seem like something they’re used to doing.
14 Red Rag to a Bull
Friday 25 November–Wednesday 30 November
It turns out, as predicted, the Holbecks don’t take kindly to other people’s commitments.
The first call comes that evening. Holed up in my study with ten pages already under my belt and a half-eaten sandwich at my elbow, Edward pokes a tentative head around the door. He knows where things stand with the book and what I need to do in order to get over the line. He lifts the phone muffled in his hands apologetically.
‘I know you’re right in the middle of it. I told her. She knows. But my mother wants a word,’ he says, his face sheepish. Something about Edward plunged into the role of put-upon son makes me laugh – though I doubt I’d find any of this quite so amusing if my word count weren’t as high as it already is this evening.
‘Yeah, it’s fine. I can speak to her. I might stop for the night now anyway,’ I say, taking the phone from him. ‘What’s it about?’ I ask, before raising it to my ear.
He shrugs. ‘Won’t tell me.’
I twitch an eyebrow in interest, and he smirks, slipping out of the room, leaving me to find out.
‘Hi, Eleanor, it’s Harriet. Everything okay?’
‘Oh, hello, darling. Now, listen, Edward has explained the situation. You’re a Trojan; good for you. And I’ll be out of your hair imminently. I just want to get your advice on something. Gauge your thoughts really. Robert and I, of course, want you both over for Christmas this year, but as you’re aware it’s a delicate topic with Edward. I don’t want to cause a fuss, scare him off, so I thought I’d hold off asking him at all if you thought it was perhaps too soon… for him?’
This is not the conversation I was expecting. ‘Um, I—’
‘You see, last Christmas was the first we all spent apart,’ she blusters on. ‘We tend to cluster together at The Hydes most holidays. But, of course, Edward was in London with you last Christmas and everything was a bit fraught between us, as you know. The whole family come to us usually. It’s very festive. We’d love to get back to the way things were, you understand.’
I think she is inviting me over for Christmas. But it’s hard to be sure.
The idea of it is terrifying and thrilling in equal measure. A chance to look inside The Hydes, a chance to study Edward’s family in its natural habitat and absorb their strange magic free from constraint. But in order to do that, I would actually need to spend Christmas with them.
‘Um, well, it sounds lovely, Eleanor. I really appreciate the offer, and I’d personally love to, but I really don’t know how Edward would take to that idea at the moment. Or, to be honest, how he’d take to you asking me the question in the first place,’ I say gently, my voice lowered in spite of the fact I can hear Edward pottering around in the kitchen.
‘I see,’ she says, circumspect. ‘Noted. Well, in that case, perhaps we just need a little more time to ease him into the idea. Softly, softly, catchee monkey, as they say,’ she sighs, though a smile is evident in her voice. I can’t help but relish her old-world familiarity with me given the fact we’ve only met once. ‘Well, thank you for your honesty, my dear. We’ll give it a little more time perhaps.’ She pivots. ‘Now, listen, Edward told me about your situation with Grenville Sinclair. Is there anything the family can do to help—？’