Merry Christmas, everybody! Enjoying the holidays? And did you find exactly the presents you wanted lying under the Christmas tree this morning? Not in the Porter-Peregrin household, I’m afraid. Persephone wept buckets because she unwrapped a little Cartier watch instead of her heart’s desire. But what were her poor parents to do? I mean, they could hardly have done Jasper Grant up in gift wrap for her, could they? In fact, I can understand her. I miss Jasper myself. It simply won’t be the same without him! A whole term in France, just to get a better French mark on his final school report—did he spare a thought for us? Who, may I ask, is going to provide the really good scandals at parties now that he’s not here? And how are the Frognal Flames going to win their games without their second-best man? They’re already suffering because Arthur Hamilton was voted out as team captain. And no, I still haven’t the faintest idea what exactly happened after the Autumn Ball, or why Arthur argued with Jasper, Grayson Spencer, and Henry Harper, so do stop sending me e-mails about it. I’ll soon find out—and when I know, I’ll tell you right away. That’s a promise!
It’s fairly quiet in London at the moment. Mrs. Cook, the headmistress, is in Cornwall, like half the school (hey, is there anyone who DOESN’T have a holiday cottage in St. Ives?), and Mrs. Lawrence has flown to Lanzarote. Just like Mr. Vanhagen, by the way. Funny coincidence, don’t you agree?
How about the rest of you? How are you spending the holiday season? Are you staying home in the warm, like the Spencer twins? I’d love to tell you what I’m doing, but then you’d only go trying to find out who I am again—and that would be such a bore. You’d better reconcile yourselves to the fact that you’ll never know.
See you soon!
Love from your very Christmassy-feeling Secrecy
PS—Speaking of Christmas: Liv and Mia Silver are away with their father in Zürich for a whole ten days—but I doubt Henry is missing his girlfriend much. I guess it’s more of a platonic relationship between those two—they’ve been an item for months, and they still haven’t slept with each other. Only making out and holding hands … Hmm, what do you make of that? Seeing that we all know Henry Harper isn’t exactly famous for holding back, it must be something to do with Liv. Is she a prude? Frigid? Or does she belong to some kind of religious community where sex is forbidden before marriage? Then again, maybe she’s just a little slow for her age, poor thing.
4
I FELT FOR Mia’s hand as the plane prepared to land, because as we came in, losing height, it did a couple of violent little jumps suggesting it was about to crash. But then we slid through the clouds and saw the Thames below us, and London in the snow, and the queasy feeling inside me turned to anticipation.
Mia pressed my hand. “Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen to us. But next time you’re welcome to make a will leaving everything you possess to your little sister, if it makes you feel better.”
“First, if we crash, you’ll be as dead as me, and second, I’m afraid I don’t have anything to leave.”
“You’re forgetting your guitar and Aunt Gertrude’s Christmas present.” Mia giggled.
“No, sorry, I want that buried with me in my casket.”
Our American great-aunt had excelled herself with this year’s choice of presents: she had given Mia a Barbie coach (suitable for Shaving Fun Ken?) drawn by a pink Pegasus, and me a set for breeding primeval crustaceans. We could really use those things.
However, we’d long ago given up expecting much in the way of Christmas presents. For some reason, Santa Claus didn’t seem to like us very much. Once again he hadn’t brought the smartphones we so urgently needed to replace our Stone Age cell phones. Although we did get very stylish Stone Age cell phone cases, handmade out of felt by Lottie.
“I wonder why I have to write that stupid wish list every year, when we never get what we wish for,” said Mia. “At least, I don’t remember putting plastic horse with wings on my list. Or near-death experiences on a ski lift.”
“Or bruises all over me,” I added.
“What’s so difficult to understand about night-vision aid, bugging set, and red wig with bangs?” Mia snorted sadly. “Instead we get sweaters, pillows, DVDs, and a skiing trip! And then we have to pretend to be grateful! Think how many smartphones Papa could have bought for that amount of money!”