Christmas with the Queen

Chapter 38 Jack

Chapter 38

Jack

Sandringham Estate, Norfolk. December 1954

I still couldn’t believe the news about Mrs. Howard. I struggled to imagine her absence in the neighborhood where she had been such a friendly face for so many years. I also hated to think of my beloved old building belonging to someone else. What could possibly flourish inside the charming red-brick walls if not the dream I’d tended to like a treasured garden for years? Why hadn’t I grabbed hold of the dream sooner? I shouldn’t have wondered and waited for so long. It was a lesson—a cruel lesson—to seize the moment, to be impulsive, rather than worry and calculate the risks, as I always did and always had.

With everything that had happened in the last week, I was relieved to finally leave London for Sandringham, where I hoped to put these new disappointments behind me for a while. When the charming Norfolk villages and the beautiful gardens and glimmering lake of Sandringham Estate came into view, my sadness eased a little. It was good to be back in these peaceful surroundings, away from the stiff formality of Buckingham Palace, and the disappointments that life kept throwing at me in London.

I was looking forward to seeing Ryan and his family, too—and I was mostly hoping to see Olive. I thought of the journal wrapped in pretty Christmas paper in my suitcase and my nerves flared. I hoped it wouldn’t make things awkward between us, that she’d be pleased to know I was thinking of her. Perhaps she might even take the hint that I would like to see more of her, even if I hadn’t yet managed to make that clear.

After a busy day and a very late evening setting up for the arrival of the royal family, Max took pity on us and gave us a start time of midmorning. We all needed a good night’s sleep before the parade of guests arrived and the Christmas festivities were in full swing.

But I didn’t sleep late in the staff quarters. Instead, Mason and I packed up our gifts—I brought my cookbook, too, because Mason insisted I show Ryan and Maggie—and we set off to their house to meet them for breakfast. It had been too long since I’d seen them, and I wanted to seize the opportunity while I could.

As Mason drove us toward their charming home in a nearby village, I admired the morning sun that swept over the beautiful Norfolk countryside, sending golden light dancing on every field, every copse of trees, every rooftop. I’d never been a country boy, always drawn to the bright lights of city life, but I was learning to appreciate the silence and solace these quiet country lanes offered. I’d loved my time at Balmoral Castle in the Scottish Highlands that summer. I’d felt restored there, among the heather-clad hills. And I felt restored here, too. Maybe this city boy would settle for a quiet country life one day.

At Ryan’s, I tried to help Maggie in the kitchen but was shooed away to play with Ivy, and little Adam, who was fast approaching his second birthday. Ivy was wild with excitement at the prospect of Christmas, and Adam was finally steady on his feet and needed watching closely. Ryan, too, zipped around the house, glad that Christmas was nearly here.

Eventually, the sausages, bacon, and eggs were served, and we gathered around the kitchen table.

“Show them your cookbook,” Mason prompted me as we all ate hungrily.

“You’re working on a cookbook?” Ryan asked.

My old uncomfortable timidity arose, and I shrugged. “I’ve been pulling a few recipes together.”

“It’s amazing,” Mason insisted. “Show them.”

I pushed my collection of notes and recipes across the table toward Maggie.

I watched her face as she turned the pages and commented on the unusual ingredients and dishes she’d never heard of. “This is wonderful, Jack. Truly. It’s unique and it’s... so entirely you. ”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling as she passed it to Ryan.

As he opened it, a sheaf of papers fluttered to the table.

“Oh, those aren’t part of the book,” I said, gathering them into a pile. “They’re recipes for Olive. I haven’t sent them to her yet.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow at me. “Recipes for Olive? Olive Carter, I presume? You two are still in touch?”

I took a slug of tea. “On and off. More off, actually.”

“He likes her but won’t admit it,” Mason added.

“Of course I like her. We’re friends.”

“I think it’s sweet that you’re writing recipes for her. When will you see her again?” Maggie asked.

“She’ll probably be at Sandringham with the BBC for Christmas. At least, I think she will. She’s covered the beat in the past, but we haven’t spoken in a while.”

Ryan grinned. “Does our boy have a crush?”

“All right, all right,” I said, laughing. “We’re friends, I told you that. Leave a man to his own business!” I pushed up from the table and carried my dish and several others to the sink.

Maggie met me there. She laid a hand on my forearm. “You like her. Very much.” It was a statement, not a question.

Though surprised by her earnestness, I nodded. “I do. As I said, she’s a friend. It has been nice to reconnect.”

“By the look on your face, I’d say you’d like to be more than friends.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I think she’s with someone else.”

“Do you know she’s with someone else?” When I didn’t reply, Maggie looked at me pointedly. “You should tell her how you feel. You deserve to be happy after... well, you know.”

After Andrea, she was about to say.

“She’d want you to move on,” she said, her tone gently encouraging. ‘I just want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Maggie. I’m working on being happy again.”

“Good.” She kissed my cheek, and we joined the others at the table where, thankfully, the subject had changed.

“Mason was telling me how much you’re impressing the team at Buckingham Palace,” Ryan said. “You seem very happy there.”

“I am, though...” I shook my head. “You know how I’ve always wanted to run my own restaurant? Well, the building I’d dreamed of buying is either sold or off the market. Either way, it’s gone.”

“There are bound to be others,” Ryan said. “Don’t give up hope.”

“That’s what I said,” Mason added. “We’ll find something.”

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “We?”

“You two going into business together?” Ryan asked as he dropped a lump of sugar in his tea.

“We’ve been talking about it,” Mason said. “Which is why Jack took me to see the building.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Ryan said. “You two would make a great team.”

“One day, maybe.” I shrugged. “If we can ever manage to save enough.”

Ivy climbed into my lap then, sticky hands and all. “Will you read me your book, Uncle Jack?”

I smiled. I’d always had a soft spot for Ivy, and she knew it. “Oh, this is just a boring book about food, sweetheart. Why don’t we open some presents instead?”

She squealed with delight as I pulled the wrapped packages from my bag and handed them to her. She tore open the paper, instantly stroking the doll’s shiny hair and making her eyes open and close. She liked the books I’d chosen for her just as much.

As I watched Ivy turn the pages, I glanced at Maggie and Ryan, and at little Adam with mashed egg all over his face, and I was filled with warmth to be part of this simple family moment. I finally realized something I’d never truly admitted to myself, even when Andrea and I had tried for children: I wanted a family.

“We have to get back,” I said, standing up. Mason rose from the table, too.

“What do you say to Jack?” Ryan prompted Ivy.

“Thank you, Uncle Jack,” she sang.

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” I kissed the top of her head, then turned to Maggie and kissed her cheek. “And thank you, for breakfast.”

She smiled. “Don’t be a stranger, Jack. And remember what I said. You deserve every happiness.”

I wished them all a merry Christmas as I followed Mason to the door, thinking about all that Ryan and Maggie had said, about the restaurant and Mason, about Olive. Thinking about how much I still missed Andrea.

But, as we drove back to Sandringham Estate, a new revelation struck me. I’d missed Olive, too, this past year. It had taken twelve months, a conversation with my oldest friends—and seeing Olive with another man—to realize it, but if I were to ever have a chance with her, I needed to seize the day, make a move.

Maybe this Christmas would be the one.

Maybe a little luck and Christmas magic would bring her to my door.