17 The Hallowed, Gracious Time

 

            As the time for Christmas drew near, Mattie began to prepare to celebrate the feast. There was a chapel in the old wing and she made sure that everything in it was shining and ready. Two days before Christmas, Uncle Thomas called for his carriage and, accompanied by Ignatius, Mac and Little Walter, he set out on his annual journey.

            ‘Where are we going?’ asked Little Walter of his uncles.

            Mac smiled, ‘Uncle Thomas has an old friend, a priest, and he always comes to us for Christmas. We observe this day as a very holy one.’

            ‘How do we do that?’

            ‘Tonight we attend the Midnight Mass,’ said Ignatius, ‘the whole family, which, of course, includes the Proud Pugs.’

            ‘What’s a mass?’

            ‘Lots of prayers,’ explained Mac, ‘a great many.’

The puppy was silent. Hortensia had explained prayer to him, after a fashion.

‘And one can snooze whenever one wants,’ Iggy added encouragingly.

‘Don’t worry,’ smiled Mac, ‘we all get our gifts on Christmas Eve.’

Little Walter seriously considered this information and finding the whole prospect positively exciting.

When they arrived at the priory, Uncle Thomas signaled them out and Mac and Iggy trotted to the massive door. They were welcomed by the doorkeeper, who had tidbits ready for them. Glued to Iggy’s side, Little Walter walked slowly into the building looking about him. He was charmed by the food but unusually apprehensive of the silent figures moving about their tasks.

‘Walk in the cloister,’ said Uncle Thomas, ‘while I visit with the friars.’

The pugs took themselves off into a lovely winter garden patterned by the snowfall, and Mac and Iggy played at chasing Little Walter. Gradually the puppy forgot himself and began to dart about squealing and laughing. Suddenly a pair of gentle hands gripped him and tossed him about in the air. It was a delicious experience and he chuckled with delight.

‘A fine young fellow,’ said a low and musical voice. When he was on the ground again, Little Walter looked up into a shining, smiling face. He saw his uncles bow and imitated them.

Uncle Thomas stood beside a man in a long black robe. He had the kindest eyes Little Walter had ever seen. Next to him was a battered portmanteau.

‘This is Father Gregory,’ said Uncle Thomas by way of explanation. The friar bent down and embraced Mac and Ignatius then turned to Little Walter.

‘I’m told extraordinary things of you,’ he said quietly, ‘most interested to hear the whole story.’

And hear it he did, the complete pug version, on the journey home.

            When the carriage drew up before the house, the entire family was assembled on the steps. Little Walter watched in awe as Father Gregory held each one close, giving Mrs. Yum and Mrs. Scrumptious particular hugs and wrapping the puppies in his cloak to keep them from the cold.

            Ignatius nudged his nephew with amusement.

‘Why are you so amazed?’

‘I thought he would be stern and strict,’ Little Walter confessed.

‘Not a bit of it,’ said Mac and pulled on Father Gregory’s cloak to bring him inside.

There was a lovely meal and warm punch by the fire. And, if Mac imbibed freely, no one minded as all attention was on telling Gregory the many versions of the story of the spirits. When everyone had given an account, Uncle Thomas looked at his friend. But the priest stared into the fire, a light smile playing around his mouth.

‘I wonder if your cousin will come to our Midnight Mass?’ he mused.

‘She will be very welcome,’ said Uncle Thomas who was missing her. ‘But I fear that now, with the family honour vindicated, she may not return.’

‘Didn’t say they wouldn’t return,’ grumbled Mac who had enjoyed the experience hugely.

When they were in bed and settled for the night, Iggy murmured to Mac, ‘Don’t worry, brother, I have the feeling we shall see them again.’

Mac was disposed to talk about the queen but Ignatius reminded him that tomorrow was Christmas Eve and the day, and night, would be long.

When they awoke, there was a hint of snow in the air. They nudged Little Walter and toddled to the fire in the sitting room where their bowls were steaming on the hearth. As the family began to come down to breakfast, each one wore a slightly preoccupied look and occasionally someone darted into an unused room to emerge with a satisfied smile.

The count, who had joined them, watched the goings on with mystification. ‘What’s afoot, brothers?’

‘Presents,’ said Mac. ‘They’ll bring them out later.’

‘But Louisa and I have brought no gifts,’ moaned the count, ‘we did not know.’

‘Calm yourself, brother,’ said Ignatius, ‘did you not notice Mattie wrapping parcels?’

‘Indeed, yes, Louisa and I helped her.’

‘Then your gifts are all in order,’ said Mac.

The count looked mightily relieved and settled himself before the fire. Mac and Iggy joined him and, as they snoozed, Michael and Andrew tiptoed in carrying a huge wicker hamper between them. They placed it softly on the floor near Uncle Thomas’ chair and scurried out. They were moving so quickly that they almost tumbled over Louisa who was sauntering in with the puppies. Andrew scooped her up into his arms and Michael lifted the pups then they danced out into the hall whirling the pugs around. The puppies yelped with joy and Louisa closed her eyes and hummed along while her bow was pushed to a rakish angle. When the dance was over and they were back on the floor, she gathered them together and led them into the room. Straightaway the puppies went over to the count and settled themselves against him.

While they snoozed, Bessie and Mattie glided in and deposited oddly shaped items in gilded paper into the wicker basket. Uncle Thomas came a little while later bearing his gifts and Michael followed him chuckling softly to himself.

About an hour later, Iggy stretched himself and whispered to Mac, ‘I think we should go down to the shore, brother, to wish Charles the joy of the season.’ Mac shook himself and roused the count, who prodded Little Walter. As they were on their way, Louisa’s voice stopped them short.

‘And where are you going, my dears?’ she asked mildly.

‘To the seashore, my love, to wish Charles the crab a Happy Christmas,’ said the count.

‘Then we will accompany you,’ said Louisa firmly.

‘Dearest,’ the count protested, ‘there may be snow. You remember that Mrs. Yum predicted it?’

‘Yes, I remember, but a prediction is not a reality,’ said Louisa giving herself a shake and rousing the puppies. ‘Please wait while I fetch Tensie.’

And so they all went out into the sharp air and walked under a pewter sky shot with gold. Their progress was slow as the puppies kept stopping to play. They were all watching the little ones and giggling when a cry rang out and, looking up, they spotted a familiar figure.

‘It’s Joe,’ yelled Mac, ‘I’d know that wingspread anywhere.’

Joe gave an earsplitting cry, circled slowly then spiraled down to land on a rock nearby. He took in the family with his bright, sharp eyes.

‘Greetings to the clan and a Happy Christmas.’ Then he looked at Iggy, ‘News I have. Good news for you and yours.’

Ignatius climbed the rock and sat beside him, ‘Happy Christmas to you and yours, my friend,’ he said then he cocked his head. ‘What’s the news, Joe?’

‘Your sister, Emilia, and her friend Tristram are coming home very early in the new year.’

A cheer went up from the pugs, for Emilia, the youngest of Iggy’s brothers and sisters, had been gone for several months and, when he wasn’t seeing ghosts and finding bracelets, he had missed her.

‘This is sooner than we dared hope,’ said Mac, ‘how do you come to know?’

‘Son-in-law got into a spot of trouble in Scotland. He broke a wing fighting with another gull over a bit of fish. Rash fellow. Gives my daughter no end of worry. Still, had to go up and sort things out. While I was there, I asked about two members of your Proud Pug clan. No trouble finding them. Gave me a kiss, your little Emilia did. Nice lad, Tristram. Said his friend, Freddie, would mend the wing and it’s going to be good as new. Amazing thing medicine,’ said Joe looking out over the sea. ‘And,’ he added for good measure, ‘amazingly nice couple of pugs. That Emilia is growing into a beauty.’

While Joe was talking, the pugs made noises of great sympathy then fell silent as he looked out to sea. Finally Louisa, who was concerned for her puppies in the cold, gave the invitation.

‘We’re off to the shore to wish Charles the crab a Happy Christmas. Won’t you come with us, Joe?’

‘No, Lou Lou,’ said Joe, ‘got to get home to the family. My daughter is so worried that she just sits on a rock all day. Bad for the digestion. I’ll bring the whole family, son-in-law included, to see your pups when you come home.’

With that, he dived back into the sky and, amid shouts of ‘Godspeed,’ flew toward Penzance.

When they reached the shore, Charles was waiting for them.

‘Hello, children,’ he said to the puppies, ‘nice to see you.’ The puppies, who recognized the voice and presence but not the shape, plopped down in the sand submerged in puzzlement.

‘Charles,’ said Iggy, ‘we’ve come to wish you the joy of the season and invite you to join us this evening.’

Mac was working very hard not to look surprised at the invitation.

‘Perhaps I will come,’ said the crab. ‘Schools of fish singing carols are less than diverting. And there’s a lobster nearby who’s claiming visions.’

Mac grinned. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘you are welcome any time to our house of the spirits.’

‘You’d better get back now,’ Charles warned, ‘guests are coming soon.’

No one asked how he knew but the pugs turned back and scrambled up the hill.

As they got within sight of the front door, Mac gave a whistle-wheeze.

‘What’s everyone doing outside?’

‘Dear Mr. Landrich and Maudie are coming. Don’t you remember?’ asked Louisa casting an anxious eye on her children to see that they were presentable.

‘No, m’dear, can’t say I do remember,’ Mac said and redoubled his efforts to keep pace with Ignatius.

‘I hear a carriage,’ said the count.

‘Oh dear,’ wheezed Hortensia who only ran when she had to, ‘these are my stay-at-home-in-the-morning-or-early-afternoon earrings.’

Ignatius wheeled around and trotted to his sister’s side.

‘Listen well, Tensie, no moaning about jewelry. Louisa has charge of her children, so I expect you to represent the clan on the distaff side.’

Hortensia knew an order when she heard one. ‘Right you are,’ she panted. Ignatius sprinted ahead and caught up with Mac. They arrived at the main door just as the carriage pulled into the driveway. As the door of the carriage opened, Ignatius, Mac and Hortensia marched down the steps to bow. Landrich beamed upon them as he handed his sister down, and Maudie carried on as though pugs welcomed her on a daily basis. The family gave their heartiest welcome and escorted the brother and sister into the house. When they reached the sitting room, Maudie paused in the doorway and took in the vision of Louisa, the count and the puppies seated by the fire ready to greet her.

‘Oh, my dears, what a picture,’ she said to everyone. Andrew escorted her to a most comfortable chair and Landrich sank into his seat with the joy of a man who has a feast to celebrate and means to do his best by it. And so the evening began.

It was while a hot punch was being served that a single horse was heard and soon Rattle was with them dragging in a sack and sheepishly putting it next to the wicker hamper. Maudie greeted the young fellow with the enthusiasm reserved for someone one has wronged. And Mattie observed privately that Rattle had, somehow, become handsome. When he was presented to Father Gregory, Willie asked the priest if he knew a Father Augustine. Michael and Andrew fell silent with surprise that Rattle should inquire about anyone besides his tailor.

‘Yes, of course,’ said Gregory, ‘he is at my priory and keeps well and is always very busy.’

‘He is a very good teacher,’ said Rattle. Then by way of explanation, ‘when I was younger, I was ill and mother thought it a good idea to have me tutored during my recovery. Father Augustine came to stay with us for a time.’ He paused then added very seriously, ‘a fine teacher, a very good man. I miss him to this day.’

‘But you write to him, do you not?’ asked Gregory.

‘Yes, yes I do,’ said the astonished Rattle.

‘He speaks of you often and treasures your correspondence.’ And Gregory patted Rattle’s arm. ‘Come for a visit when you can,’ he said quietly, ‘we will make you very welcome.’

Rattle nodded and smiled and blushed and Bessie looked at him with faint puzzlement, for, truly, Rattle had depths of which she had not dreamed. And with this revelation, they all went in to dine.

The family demonstrated their hospitality by serving good food and by taking extra care of their guests. Bessie was busy offering Gregory second and third helpings while Michael and Andrew coaxed Maudie and Landrich into more wine and Maudie performed an impossible feat: she began to enjoy herself immensely. Rattle scooped huge portions for the Dowager and Mattie and the pugs, who were being fed by everybody, were fit to burst.

‘When do the presents come?’ whispered Little Walter.

‘Soon, dear,’ murmured Hortensia absently. She was wondering if the Dowager had placed any recent orders with her jeweler.

Full and happy, the family moved back to the sitting room and Uncle Thomas presided over the wicker basket. There were bottles of port for Landrich, which Michael presented with a wink. Maudie looked at them with fascination, for she had never seen smuggled goods before. Maudie received some exceptional handkerchiefs with her initial embroidered on them. When she found that Bessie had done the fine sewing, she stroked them fondly. No one had given her such a personal gift in a long time. Mattie received some delicious lace. Bessie opened a parcel and out tumbled luscious fabric for a new dress. Andrew got a new hat and Michael a cape. Uncle Thomas loved the slippers with his initials in golden thread. The Dowager got superior buckles, which would make her shoes even more elegant. Father Gregory patted his wool shawl, which he could use in the drafty cloister. And Rattle, accepting a present from Bessie’s hands, was dizzy with pleasure when he found a pewter mug beautifully formed and bearing his initials. Hesitantly, he brought out his gift for her. Long consultation with himself had produced a bracelet of tiny links which would complement the one found during their adventures. Bessie looked and understood and tried not to be utterly enchanted.

In the pause for refreshment, the pugs assembled themselves. Now came their time and Little Walter was breathless with hope that he would not receive another silken pillow. There were toys for the puppies, which Louisa had approved in advance and the count chuckled as they fell on them and claimed possession. For Louisa and the count there was a great, soft, warm pillow for snoozing in front of Mattie’s fire. Ignatius and Mac each received a golden chain to wear for special occasions. Little Walter got a special toy and a leather collar with bells. The Dowager produced a small box for Hortensia and opened it to reveal golden teardrop earrings. And everyone got a juicy bone. Just when they thought it was over, Father Gregory called to Ignatius. Iggy walked over and Gregory pulled out a big tablet. Carefully pressed between the sheets was one with a drawing on it. It was Lucy to the life. Ignatius swallowed hard and bowed.  Then he took the paper with great care and brought it over to the fire for a better look. Andrew and Bessie came and stood beside him and Bessie whispered, ‘we shall put it in a beautiful frame and place it where all can see.’ Ignatius jumped into Gregory’s lap and gave him a huge kiss. ‘The best,’ he said slurping away, ‘the very best of gifts.’

‘And where, if I may ask, is my gift?’ said a voice. The pugs jumped and the humans stared. Charles was scuttling into the room. He placed himself in the middle and waved his claws in greeting. Maudie’s jaw dropped in a most unladylike fashion and Michael and Andrew exchanged looks with Uncle Thomas.

Ignatius came forward and bowed. ‘Welcome, Charles, to the family home. May I present you?’

‘Certainly,’ said the crab. ‘Came to meet the family, didn’t I?’

Ignatius paced around the room with Charles scuttling and waving beside him.

 While introductions were being made to the startled humans, Michael rang for a servant and told the astonished maid that she had better bring a sizeable bowl of tepid water. The girl took one look at the socializing crab and ran. Then, when his turn came, Michael informed Charles that the bowl was coming and offered his hand in greeting. Charles delicately placed his claw on the outstretched palm and man and crustation shook.

‘I’d like a drink,’ said Charles when he had finished his rounds.

‘How do you drink?’ asked Mac.

‘Just pour a little port into my water,’ the crab said blandly.

It was done just as soon as the maid returned. Charles waved his claws to indicate a toast and everyone joined him. Then Landrich rose and toasted this noble house and wished blessings on everyone and, although her eyes kept following Charles, Maudie united her sentiments with his in hearty approval. When the brother and sister began to take their leave, only Little Walter stayed behind when they were escorted to their carriage in fine style and drove away with Maudie fluttering a hankie out of the window.

While the family was off bidding farewell to their guests, Father Gregory remained with Little Walter, who was dozing in a shadow. The priest settled himself into the armchair and contented himself with gazing into the flames. But he was alert as though waiting for something or someone. Charles scuttled over and danced round his feet. Little Walter looked up but made no sound. After a few moments, Gregory turned his attention to the crab.

‘Are you Merlin?’ he asked politely.

Charles grew very still.

‘Are you?’ Gregory insisted and his tone indicated that he was not to be denied.

‘Yes.’

‘Why have you come here on Christmas?’

‘Curiosity and friendship.’

‘Then you must stay for Midnight Mass,’ said Gregory and he wasn’t smiling.

‘There was no Mass in my time,’ said the crab, ‘I belong to the old, old days when we worshiped something quite different.’

Gregory snorted softly, ‘In your time you worshiped very little indeed. This is my time, Merlin. You brought yourself here on Christmas and you must observe it.’

‘How if I refuse?’

‘I think that you will not.’

‘Why?’

‘I think that the spirits will return and you mean to be with them.’

‘I can be with them later.’

‘No, they will not stay.’

‘Why not?’

‘I do not know. But I know that they will come into the chapel and, when all is finished there, they will disappear.’

The crab was motionless. Then he moved back to the bowl and plopped in.

‘I believe you’ was all that he said.  

When the family returned, Father Gregory was sleeping lightly and a slight smile player about his lips and Little Walter gazed into the fire and thought deep thoughts.

Gregory’s snooze reminded the family that it was time to rest and the ladies took themselves off to their rooms while the gents eased themselves into comfortable chairs. Louisa was snoring with the count and their offspring when the rustle of fine fabric awakened her. She shook herself awake and looked up to see the queen.

‘I have come,’ she said, ‘to see you and your family before we go to mass.’

‘Ah, Ma’m, you are very welcome,’ said Louisa nudging her brood awake.

The queen bent down and fondled the puppies with a special care. The count observed that her smile was weighed down by gravity and she seemed reluctant to leave. When she finally did go, she walked with a solemn gait.

Father Gregory was awakened at the same time by a figure standing near his chair. He rubbed his eyes and greeted his visitor.

‘I should like to say mass with you tonight,’ said the man.

‘An honour,’ said Gregory. ‘Did you know that Merlin will come to us tonight?’

The man smiled slightly. ‘Extraordinary,’ he said.

When he had gone, Michael, who had seen it all, whispered, ‘Who was that?’

‘His name was John Stone,’ Gregory answered simply, ‘he was a priest of my order who died under Elizabeth.’

Michael shifted in his chair, ‘This should be an amazing Christmas,’ he said and began to nod off again.

When the clock struck eleven, everybody roused himself or herself and Andrew sent word to the ladies that the time had come to prepare, and, at fifteen minutes before the hour, they gathered round the door to the chapel. As the youngest, Bessie carried a statue of the infant and they all went in solemn procession to the crèche where she placed him in a bird’s nest and each member of the family bent down to kiss him and bid him welcome. Waiting for Gregory to begin, they noticed that the chapel, usually cold and damp, was warn and inviting. Then Gregory appeared gloriously robed and with him two other priests.

‘Who are they?’ whispered Uncle Thomas.

‘One is John Stone,’ Michael whispered back, ‘and my guess is that the other is Edmund Campion.’

Hearing Michael, Ignatius nudged Mac, ‘Hurry, brother, we must greet these great men.’ He nodded to the count and, with the gentlemen leading, the pugs trouped to the crib where they waited at solemn attention. Gregory and his companions walked to the crib and bowed. Then Gregory turned and murmured something and one of the men stepped forward and laid a hand on Mac’s head.

‘I am John Stone, MacMichael of Mousehole, and I bless you and yours this Christmas Day.’

‘Thank you, Father,’ said Mac and swallowed hard. This was not like meeting the queen. This was something altogether different.

Ignatius stepped forward and bowed before the other man, who looked down and smiled.

‘I am Ignatius Oliver, holy Campion,’ he said almost at a whisper. ‘I am the leader of the clan of the Proud Pugs of Penzance. I welcome you both on behalf of my family.’ Beside him, the count and Little Walter bowed and Louisa and Hortensia bent their beautiful heads. Hortensia’s new earrings caught the light of the candles and flashed.

‘I had a dog once,’ said Campion, ‘he was very dear to me. You have all done well. I bless you and yours. And, I salute you.’

Then they turned and gave their full attention to the crib. While the priests blessed the statues of the holy family, a lute began to play softly. Down the aisle came a procession headed by the queen. She walked slowly and her head was bowed. There was none of the fire of their earlier meetings. Here she came as a penitent. Behind her came her court somberly dressed and serious, wrapped in their solemnity. Only their young cousin paced lightly and a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. When the procession was assembled in the pews, the priests turned back to the altar. Gregory and his companions stood waiting quietly while the lute played on. They seemed to have stood there for only a few moments, but the pugs heard the clock strike the half hour. At that, Little Walter turned to Iggy and whispered, ‘They are waiting for Merlin. May I call him?’

‘Do it with all solemnity,’ Iggy whispered back.

Little Walter detached himself from the group and trotted to the altar. He bowed before Gregory and his guests, then he turned and saluted those in the body of the church: first his family and then the queen and her court. Standing before the altar he called out, ‘Merlin, you have been summoned to this Midnight Mass. Come, join the celebration.’ He paused and only the lute could be heard. ‘Come, Merlin,’ he repeated. And a third time he called out in a strong, vibrant voice, ‘Leave your dreaming, Merlin, and come.’ Then he walked back to his place with the family. The lute played on and a great wind sprang up and rattled the panes of glass in the chapel windows. The candles shivered then burnt brightly, illuminating a figure standing at the back of the chapel. He carried a great staff and his cloak swirled about him. He looked about himself with some surprise and not a little apprehension, but he walked forward steadily, acknowledging the family, the queen and the pugs. Then he faced the men at the altar.

‘Welcome, Merlin, on this blessed night,’ said Father Gregory.

Merlin nodded then looked at the other men. ‘Who are you?’ he asked. 

‘John Stone. Welcome, Merlin.’

‘Never heard of you,’ said Merlin brusquely.

‘After your time,’ said Stone serenely.

Merlin turned to the other man.

‘Edmund Campion.’

‘I’ve heard of you,’ said Merlin thoughtfully. ‘Can’t remember the time or place’ . . . he trailed off looking puzzled.

‘I told you,’ said a vibrant voice. It was the queen and she stared away from the men at the altar as she spoke.

‘Yes, yes I remember,’ said Merlin quickly and he gave the two an odd stare followed by a deep bow.

‘We must begin,’ said Gregory. ‘Merlin, be pleased to take a place.’

Merlin looked about and spotted the pugs, who had tumbled into a pew to watch the encounter. ‘I’ll sit with them,’ he said and gathered them up inside his cloak.

And so began the Mass of Midnight. Celebrated by two dead priests and a live one; watched by a dead queen and her court who prayed next to a living family. The invisible lute played and somewhere near a choir sang and the Blessed Benedictus soared above calling out his familiar ‘Joy! Joy!’ And swathed in Merlin’s cloak, the pugs put their heads together and prayed for those they loved.

When the Mass was over and the last note of music had died, the family looked up and saw only Father Gregory at the altar. The pugs shivered because the cloak was gone, as was Merlin. The Dowager turned to bow to the queen and saw only an empty row of pews. Gregory came down from the altar looking like his smiling self and embraced them all.

‘Come,’ he said, ‘it’s been a long night and dawn is breaking.’

‘This has been,’ said Michael sleepily, ‘a night of wonders.’

‘Yes,’ said Uncle Thomas, ‘but then Christmas is a wonder.’

They all tumbled up the stairs to bed.

Ignatius was just beginning to doze when he felt a nudge. He half opened his eyes and saw Little Walter below him.

‘Come, uncle,’ the young pug whispered.

‘What is it?’

‘Come and see.’

Ignatius jumped down and they fetched Mac.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked adjusting his eye patch.

‘Chapel,’ said Little Walter.

‘Why?’ asked Mac, who was really very sleepy.

‘The Mass at dawn,’ said the young pug.

As they turned into the old wing, the hall burst into light. At the door of the chapel, Ignatius stopped. ‘Is this for us?’ he asked quietly.

‘For us to see,’ said Little Walter with conviction.

Together they pushed open the old door. Light blazed from the altar where Father Gregory with a mighty group all dressed in red was quietly saying Mass. Before him prostrate on the marble floor in front of the altar lay the great queen. Near her feet knelt Merlin and by his side was a broken staff. Sitting near the altar, his great head bowed and  his wings folded was the Blessed Benedictus beside his master still dressed as a knight, and alone in the first pew sat Uncle Thomas with Lucy in his lap.

The three pugs moved to the front and sat beside Uncle Thomas. Lucy slipped in between Ignatius and Mac but Iggy knew she would not speak to them. The old man looked at them gravely and returned to his prayers. And so the Mass at dawn was celebrated as a queen did penance and a man out of legend bowed before a faith far different from his own. Iggy knew that all the spirits would fade away at the end, so he looked at his Lucy as long as he could. When he saw her grow paler and paler, he knew that the time was near for them to depart. And when the great company had disappeared, he turned to Uncle Thomas.

‘Why were we allowed to see this and not the others?’

‘Because you are the true innocents,’ said Uncle Thomas, ‘and this will remain pure in your hearts.’

‘It was a gift to us,’ said Mac.

‘As we are a gift to those we follow,’ said Ignatius.

Little Walter shivered in the cold morning air. ‘We must be a rich gift,’ he said.

‘Beyond imagining,’ said Uncle Thomas and carried them up the stairs to bed.

 

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