‘I suppose it was, but neither of us has particularly happy memories of Christmas from when we were children, so we thought we’d make up for it, didn’t we, Gerry?’ She leaned forward to squeeze her husband’s shoulder and he nodded, but his eyes remained fixed firmly on the Mount. ‘And it’s not as if we have big families to juggle, so most of the time we can just please ourselves.’

The silhouette of the castle grew more defined as they neared the end of the causeway. It had obviously been built to accommodate its unique position, rising steeply from dramatic areas of exposed rock, and its features sharpened 82gradually into a blend of the sacred, the military and the domestic: fortress walls, softening at intervals into more picturesque turrets, parapets and terraces, with a church rising up from the centre, its tower marking the highest point of the island. It was a strange mixture to find in such close proximity, and yet there was a harmony about it, Josephine thought, a simple honesty about the relationship between God and war over the centuries.

The causeway joined the island to the left of its compact harbour, and the car drew up by the first cluster of buildings. Modest, traditional stone cottages rubbed shoulders with a solid Victorian lodge and a handsome white house in the Regency style. A museum and gift shop stood on one corner, opposite the lych-gate to a tiny cemetery. To the right, a wider, cobbled road ran past an attractive row of cottages that fronted the harbour, their lamps already lit against the early gloom. The village seemed self-contained and detached from the castle’s grandeur, Josephine thought, but she guessed that the lives of each set of inhabitants must be closely connected.

‘Have we missed Twelfth Night?’ Marta asked ironically, pointing to an area of lawn where two men with ropes were laying a huge Christmas tree on its side.

‘They’re taking it down before the storm does it for them,’ Trannack said. ‘If you don’t mind waiting a moment, I’ll call in at the Change House and get someone from the castle to come down and meet you. I won’t be long, but feel free to stretch your legs and look round if you’d like to.’

‘Can’t you just drive us straight up there?’ Lancaster asked impatiently.

‘I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that, sir. Cars don’t go much further than this.’ 83

Lancaster glanced doubtfully at the steep ascent to the summit. ‘So what about our luggage?’

‘Ah, there’s a service tram that runs up to the castle, so no need to worry about that. Your cases will be taken to your rooms as soon as they get here.’

‘But we’ve got to walk?’

‘There is another option, sir. The pilgrims used to crawl up on their knees, but we don’t insist on that nowadays.’

His remark came with a charm that cancelled out its insolence, and Josephine hid a smile as Trannack walked off to make his call, heading for the building nearest the causeway which presumably functioned as a reception point for the island. The cart laden with provisions and luggage was making swift progress across from the mainland and the driver touched his cap as he passed, then continued along the harbour, stopping outside a single-storey granite shed to unload. Elsewhere, vast amounts of logs and coal were being hauled off boats, and there was a strong sense of the islanders stocking up and hunkering down against the weather, rather like an old-style military siege. Rising to the challenge, the first flakes of white began to fall – hardly the blizzard that Trannack had forecast, but enough to soften the Mount’s predominant greys and hint at how enchantingly the island might be transformed if the snow had a chance to settle.