Bells At Christmas: A Novel Christmas Cracker: A funny, laugh-out-loud, comical, Christmas caper in the Scottish Highlands (The Shooting Star Series) by Simon Northouse

Author:Simon Northouse [Northouse, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flabbergasted Publishing
Published: 2021-11-04T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter ten

Christmas Dinner

Mrs Gotobed has done us proud. It's a feast fit for a king, and queen or even peasants who take their meals in the kitchen. Earlier, I quietly apologised to everyone for my behaviour and the atmosphere is now relaxed and jovial once again. Even though I've eaten a massive slab of humble pie with extra chips, I am absolutely ravenous.

'Who would like to carve the turkey?' Stanley asks.

'I think the honour should go to you, Stanley,' Jackie replies. 'We're only here because of you.' He smiles benevolently at her.

'That's exceedingly kind of you but I like to think of it as serendipity. A confluence of the stars,' he says as he briskly sharpens the carving knife on a steel. The children are mesmerised by the speed and skill of this act. Geordie pulls the cork out of a bottle of red.

'I'll be the sommelier,' he says as he casually walks around the table and pours wine into glasses as Stanley attacks the turkey.

'After dinner, I'll show you boys Lord Fortingale's extensive wine cellar.'

I glance nervously at Robbo. 'Oh, good. I'd like to see that.'

'Did you know it's the largest wine collection in the whole of Europe?'

'Yes. I do recall you mentioning it before.'

'He has it insured for over ten million pounds.'

'Ten million pounds!' Fiona exclaims.

'That's right, my dear.' My mind flits to the image of the rickety door. I've been so consumed with extra-marital affairs, social injustice and fixing damaged knees I've forgotten about the bloody cellar door propped up with a tea chest. It will keep—for now.

'I assume it's heavily secured,' I say.

Stanley laughs. 'Oh, no. His lordship isn't worried about burglars. It's insured against fire, water damage, that sort of thing.'

'I see.'

'About five years ago, he bought the most expensive bottle of wine in the world. He paid just shy of a million pounds for it.'

Gillian gasps in astonishment. 'I'm sorry, Stanley, but I find that a little obscene when there's so much poverty and hunger in the world.' Stanley stops carving and smiles at her.

'Ah, but you're looking at it the wrong way, my girl. Angus Fortingale is a canny investor. That bottle of wine now has an estimated value of over three million pounds. Think of it like a Picasso or a Ming vase.'

'But how can one bottle of wine be worth so much money?' Julie asks as she helps herself to a few luscious slices of turkey breast.

'There's a story behind it, my dear. Are any of you aware of the folklore of the Knights Templar?' Blank faces stare at him.

'Yeah, I once watched a documentary about them,' Robbo says, much to everyone's amazement. 'The theory is, Jesus didn't die on the cross but was smuggled out of the country by some of his disciples and went to live in the south of France?'

'Yes, that's the gist of it, Robbo. Although some scholars say he lived in the deserts of Qumran, which is now part of modern-day Israel.'

'What has this got to do with the bottle of wine?' Fiona says as she sets about loading the plates of the children.

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