Mistletoe Mystery by Sally Quilford Page A

not worth much,
as they were merely smaller copies of the original Old Masters.
    Puck had suggested putting them along the hallways. “Seeing
as it’s Christmas,” he said. “Baby Jesus and all that.”
    Philly had been reluctant. “Until we know what Matt’s
looking for, I think we should leave everything locked away up here. For all we
know, we could put the very thing he wants on show. Then he could just walk out
with whatever it is whilst we’re not looking. Our best chance of catching him
is if he goes up to the attic.”
    They had arranged to set a trap, leaving the key where Matt
could find it. Philly had even separated it from all the others, and put a
label marked ‘attic’ on it. With everything else they needed to do that
weekend, looking after guests and going through the pantomime of Dominique’s
story, it would be a wonder if they managed to fit that particular plot in.
    “Maybe when this is over,” said Matt, cutting into her
reverie, “we can spend some proper time together, getting to know each other.”
    “I’d like that,” said Philly, tears burning the back of her
eyes. She realised with an aching heart that she not only meant what she said,
but also regretted that it would never happen. Matt would either be arrested or
go away again not having found what he wanted. She was tempted to ask him
outright what he had been looking for. If he wanted it that badly, she would
give it to him. Then she remembered that everything in the house belonged to
her and that if she needed money to keep the Hall maintained, she could not afford
to go giving away priceless jewels or paintings. “I ought to go and help Puck
and Meg with dinner.”
    “What can I do to help?”
    “Perhaps you could just wait in the drawing room for the
guests to come down, and serve them drinks. If you don’t mind.”
    “I don’t mind at all. I’m glad to be useful. They won’t be
ready yet, so I’ll check everything else is in place, shall I?”
    “Yes, that would be really helpful. You have the script?”
    Matt tapped his jacket near the inside top pocket. “I do
indeed.”
    Philly put her hand in her own pocket and fingered the attic
key. It was not the right time to plant it just yet. Not with her and her
friends busy in the kitchen. She smiled shyly at Matt and turned to go to the
kitchen. He caught her arm and pulled her back.
    “I know you don’t want to rush things, but since we’ve
kissed already…”
    Before she could argue, he had taken her in his arms. She
was powerless to resist him. If, in that moment, he had asked for everything
she owned, she would give it to him. She pulled away reluctantly. “I hardly
think this is the correct behaviour between the headmaster and the games
mistress,” she said, trying to sound humorous, only to find her voice trembled
in her throat.
    “It’ll be our guilty secret,” said Matt. “We could say that
Dominique found out about us. It gives us both a motive.”
    “You mustn’t deviate from the script… Your motive, as the
headmaster, is that you used to hang around with Kim Philby and all the other
Cambridge traitors and you were still in the pay of the Russians. My motive, as
the games mistress, is that I’d been stealing from school funds meant for
buying hockey sticks in order to feed my alcoholism. Remember?”
    “There’s nothing wrong with ad-libbing. Especially if it
gives me an excuse to kiss you. I could be the traitor, you could be the thief,
yet we could still be secret lovers. Or perhaps you’re blackmailing me into
having a torrid fling.”
    It sounded very seductive, the way he wrapped his tongue
around the word torrid. “You’ll just confuse everyone,” said Philly, trying to
sound more business-like. “Stick to the script.”
    “You’re a very bossy games mistress.”
    “Yes, and if you don’t behave, I’ll make you do a hundred
push ups.”
    “Only a hundred? You’re not so tough after all.”
    “Get you, Bruce Willis!” Philly