Christmas Miracle. Линда Гуднайт

the children had loved every mouthful of it. Even Thomas had sucked on a bit of sausage and had a few slices of banana and some peeled grapes dipped in chocolate and, apart from the shocking mess, it was a huge success.

      ‘Right, you lot, time for bed,’ she said.

      ‘Oh, but it’s Christmas!’

      ‘Yes, and it’ll come all the earlier if you’re in bed asleep,’ she reasoned. ‘And Father Christmas won’t come down the chimney if you’re still awake.’

      ‘But he won’t come anyway, because of the fire,’ Kitty said, looking suddenly worried, but Jake rescued the situation instantly.

      ‘Not a problem,’ he said promptly. ‘There’s another chimney in the dining room, and he’ll come down that.’

      ‘But he won’t know where to put the presents!’ she argued.

      ‘Yes, he will, because he knows everything,’ Edward said with an air of patient indulgence that made Millie want to laugh and cry all at once. ‘Come on, let’s go up to bed and then he’ll come.’

      ‘Promise?’ Kitty said, staring at her hopefully.

      Oh, Lord, there was so little for them. They were going to be horribly disappointed. ‘Promise,’ she said, near to tears, but then the doorbell rang, jangling the ancient bell over the breakfast room door, and Jake got to his feet.

      ‘I’ll get it, it’s probably Kate,’ he said, and she followed him, meaning to say hello if it was Kate or take the children up to bed if not, but as he reached for the door they heard the unmistakable sound of a choir.

      ‘Carol singers,’ he said in a hollow voice, rooted to the spot with an appalled expression on his face.

      ‘I’ll deal with them,’ she said softly, and opened the door, meaning to give them some change for their tin and send them away. But he was still standing there in full view and the vicar, who was standing at the front, beamed at him.

      ‘Mr Forrester! We heard you were back and that you’d been injured, so we thought we’d come and share some carols with you on the way back from evensong—bring you a little Christmas cheer.’

      Jake opened his mouth, shut it again and smiled a little tightly. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and he probably would have stood there with that frozen smile on his face if Amelia hadn’t elbowed him gently out of the way, opened the door wide and invited them in, because after all there was no choice, no matter how unhappy it might make him.

      ‘You’ll freeze,’ she said with a smile. ‘Come inside and join us.’ And Jake would just have to cope, because anything else would have been too rude for words. And apparently he realised that, because he found another smile and stepped back.

      ‘Yes—of course, come on in by the fire,’ he said, and led them to the drawing room, where they gathered round the fire and sang all the old favourites—Silent Night, Away In A Manger and O Come All Ye Faithful, and then the vicar smilingly apologised for not having a chorister to sing Once In Royal David’s City, and beside her Amelia felt Edward jiggle and she squeezed his shoulder in encouragement.

      ‘Go on,’ she murmured, and he took a step forwards.

      ‘I could do it,’ he offered, and the vicar looked at him and smiled broadly.

      ‘Well—please do. Do you need the words?’

      He shook his head, went over to them and started to sing.

      Jake was speechless.

      The boy’s voice filled the room, pure and sweet, and he felt his throat close. It brought so much back—the pain of his childhood, the respite that music had brought him, the hard work but the immense rewards of being a chorister.

      And when Edward got to the end of the first verse and everyone joined in, he found himself singing, too, found the voice he’d grown into as a man, rusty with lack of use and emotion, but warming up, filling him with joy again as he sang the familiar carol. And Edward looked at him in astonishment and then smiled, as if he’d just discovered something wonderful.

      And maybe he had.

      Maybe Jake had, too, because Edward had a truly beautiful voice and it would be a travesty if he didn’t get the opportunity to develop and explore this musical gift. And if there was anything he could do to help with that, he wanted to do it, even if it was just to encourage him to join the school choir.

      But in the meantime he sang, and the choir launched into God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, which was perfect for his baritone, and so for the first time in years he dragged the air deep down into his lungs and let himself go, and the old house was filled with the joyful sound of their voices.

      And Edward grinned, and he grinned back, and beside him he could see Amelia staring up at him in astonishment, her eyes like saucers, and Kitty too. When they got to the end they all smiled and laughed, and Amelia ran down to the kitchen and came back with a tray of mince pies she’d made earlier, and he offered them a drink to wash them down but they all refused.

      ‘Sorry, we’d love to, but we have to get home,’ was the consensus, and of course they did. It was Christmas Eve, and he’d been fitted in as a favour. A favour by people he didn’t know, who’d heard he’d been hurt and had come to bring Christmas to him, and deep down inside, the fissure that was opening around his heart cracked open a little further, letting the warmth seep in.

      ‘Thank you so much for coming,’ he said with genuine feeling as he showed them out. ‘The children have really enjoyed it. It was extremely kind of you, and I can’t thank you enough.’

      ‘Well, there’s always the church roof,’ the vicar joked, and he laughed, but he made a mental note to send him a cheque. ‘And if the boy wants to join us …’

      ‘Ah, they’re only visiting,’ he said, and the words gave him a curious pang, as if somehow that was wrong and vaguely unsettling. ‘But—yes, I agree. He could be a chorister.’

      ‘As you were once, I would imagine. You could always join us yourself. The choir’s always got room for a good voice.’

      He smiled a little crookedly. ‘My choir days are over—but thank you. Have a good Christmas, all of you. Good night.’

      They left in a chorus of good-nights and merry Christmases, and he closed the door and turned to see Edward standing there staring at him.

      ‘Did you really sing in a choir?’ he asked warily, and Jake nodded.

      ‘Yes, I did. When I was about your age, and a little older. My voice started to break when I was twelve, which rather put a stop to singing for a couple of years, and I never really got back into it after that, but—yeah, I went to choir school. What about you? Do you sing in a choir?’

      ‘We didn’t really have a choir at the school, but the music teacher said I ought to have a voice test somewhere. I was supposed to sing in the school carol concert last week, but we had to move to Auntie Laura’s and it was too far away, so I couldn’t. And I’d been practising for weeks and weeks.’

      ‘I can tell. What a shame. Still, you did it for us, and it was great. You did really well. Here, come with me. I’ve got something to show you.’

      ‘Is it a picture?’

      ‘No. It’s a film of me when I was in the choir. I had to sing Once In Royal David’s City myself at the start of the carol service when I was twelve, just before my voice broke.’

      And it had been televised, but he didn’t mention that because it was irrelevant, really. He took Edward into his sitting room, found the DVD he’d had the old video copied onto, and turned it on.

      ‘Wow,’ Edward said at the end of his solo, his voice hushed. ‘That was amazing. You must have been so scared.’

      He laughed. ‘I was pretty terrified, I can tell you.