A Proper Family Christmas Read Online Free Page A

bedroom was something else. While Annabel Buchanan explained the historical significance of a few dull scratches on the windowsill, Sophie made an inventory of everything Annabel’s daughter had that Sophie could only dream of. The room was huge, for a start. It contained an actual four-poster bed. A modern one, though. Not like the freaky old beds with all the carving in the rooms on the floor below. No way would Sophie sleep in one of those. The woman giving the tour said people had been born and died in them, like that was a good thing.
    As well as the amazing bed, there was an armchair by the window. On the big oak desk in the corner were an iPod and a laptop. Sophie was ready to vomit with envy when she saw the fantastic music system. Above the fireplace – yes, the room was big enough to have a fireplace – was a flat-screen television almost as big as the one in the lounge back at the Bensons’ house.
    Annabel Buchanan’s tale of the two princes and the civil war went right over Sophie’s head as the teenager let her eyes wander over the photographic montage on the wall over the desk. Sophie wondered which of the girls in those photos was the owner of this room. She decided it must be the brunette who appeared in at least seventy per cent of the snaps. Boy, did she seem to have the ideal life. She was pictured on tropical beaches of the kind that Sophie had only ever seen in adverts, at the top of the Empire State Building, riding a pony. She was pictured skiing, sailing, snorkelling and sipping a brightly coloured drink with an umbrella in it at some swanky beach club. At fifteen and a half years old, Sophie had never been abroad. Her parents couldn’t even afford for her to go on the school trip to Germany. Sophie was suddenly embarrassed that she’d never set foot on a plane while this girl had obviously seen the world.
    ‘Any questions?’ Annabel asked.
    Like a group of shy schoolchildren, the people on the tour just smiled and shook their heads. Except for Jack. Sophie cringed when she saw that her little brother had put his hand up. What would he come out with this time?
    ‘Yes, young man?’
    ‘I was told we would see a dungeon. I haven’t seen one yet.’
    ‘Well,’ said Annabel. ‘We’ll have to put that right. I think there might be something to interest you as we make our way back to the boot room and out into the fresh air. Everybody ready? Follow me.’
    Annabel Buchanan started to usher her guests back out into the corridor. As the other visitors wandered off, Sophie lingered in the bedroom for as long as she could, imagining how different her life could have been if her parents owned the Great House. She let her fingers drift over a dress that hung from the wardrobe door, forgotten in Izzy’s last-minute tidying spree. It was made by All Saints. Sophie could only dream of owning anything from All Saints. It must have cost two hundred quid. The label was still hanging on it. Sophie was about to pull it out of the neckline so that she could take a look at the price when she heard someone behind her. She turned round. It was the girl in the photographs.
    ‘Ahem,’ said the girl. ‘If you wouldn’t mind stepping out of my room. This part of the house is now closed to the general public.’
    Izzy Buchanan smiled but never in a million years could anyone have mistaken the smile for a friendly one. Sophie certainly didn’t.
    ‘Sorry.’ Sophie stepped out past her. ‘I was just looking at …’
    Sophie gestured back towards the windowsill and the scratches that she hadn’t bothered to examine at all.
    ‘Yeah, right,’ said Izzy, physically barging Sophie as she took repossession of her room. ‘Chav,’ she muttered under her breath.
    ‘Excuse me?’ said Sophie.
    ‘Nothing,’ said Izzy.
    ‘I thought I heard you say something.’
    ‘I didn’t say anything. I was just clearing my throat.’
    ‘Good,’ said Sophie, setting her face in a scowl.
    The rich girl blushed. Rude cow.