Sugar Lemon Brandy

A short story based on a vintage cocktail

Hello! Here’s a very short story for Christmas Eve – a flash, a vignette, a moment in time. I wrote it for Berry Bros. & Rudd’s Christmas campaign last year, while I was still working there in-house, but for whatever reason, I never publicised it at the time. It was sent out on the back-page of last year’s Christmas brochure, so I thought it should have its own place here this year – particularly for those who have never read it. It’s quite twee, very much written with a certain audience in mind, but it also pulls on elements that I love: rediscovered documents, secrets hidden within cabinets, wisecracking ghosts that linger on in the present. It has been republished with kind permission from BB&R. Merry Christmas!

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At last, there was stillness in the house. Evie could hear the clink of her mother washing the teacups: Granny’s fine bone china set, with its pattern of delicate blue-green leaves still vivid against the white. It was the traditional choice on Christmas Eve, a tradition Granny herself had initiated. Evie knew she would have been smug to see it upheld with such feeling. As smug as she was whenever she won at Cheat or Rummy. When they, as children, threw up their arms and protested that she had a 62-year head-start on them, she would reply, “Nonsense. You’re just not good enough.” Eyes twinkling, her tongue only slightly in her cheek.

Evie found herself wandering into Granny’s old room. It still smelled of her, that floral perfume with a subtle spice, bringing back memories of childhood. On the dresser, old photographs were tucked into the corners of the mirror, and a stack of leather-bound journals lay on the table. Granny had been a keen diarist to the end; it ensured she always had the last word. “History belongs to the writers,” she once said, as if she was letting Evie in on some great secret. She wasn’t sure what Granny would have made of her current job as a social media copywriter. She could almost hear her say, “X? Tick tock? What on earth has this got to do with clocks?” Then, after feigning patience while Evie explained, shaking her head, “No dear, that’s not quite what I meant.”

Evie opened the top journal to a random page. December 1960. A trip to St James’s with Papa to sort out the Christmas order. The streets were lit up so beautifully, all those glamorous shops tempting you in. First, to Fortnum’s. All those quaint little chocolates and fancies – heaven! I could eat them all day. Then we continued to the wine shop. Remarkable place, over 250 years old! The smell of it, so wonderfully rich. The gentleman we spoke to was full of stories – told us how the walls used to be Henry VIII’s tennis courts, how Napoleon used to hide in the cellars and the last duel to the death was fought in the little square behind the shop (although, ever the sceptic, Papa didn’t seem to think they were true). Beneath it, there was a shopping list: 1955 Côtes de Bourg, United Kingdom Cuvée, Good Ordinary Claret, Fine Old Madeira, Cutty Sark Scotch. Evie recognised the names instantly. That must have been Granny’s first ever visit to Berry Bros. & Rudd.

A page had been folded into the diary, mottled with age. Evie unfolded it delicately. At the top, it read Number Three, Autumn 1960. At the bottom, Granny had circled a recipe for a festive punch, and written beside it, Very good. It looked simple enough: lemons, sugar, a little “brown ale” and some good-quality Cognac. Leave it overnight to steep, ready for Christmas Day.

Recipe from Autumn 1960 edition of Berry Bros. & Rudd’s Number Three magazine

She took the recipe to the kitchen and set about gathering the ingredients for the punch. Everything was easy enough to find except the Cognac. “Do we have any Cognac?” she called out to her mother.

“Try Granny’s old cupboard,” came a distracted reply, followed by a warm jingle. It sounded like her mother had already settled in to watch a Christmas film with a gin-and-tonic.

Of course. Granny’s cupboard of delights, strictly forbidden to them as children. How it used to give them a thrill just to peer inside. It gave a hearty creak as Evie opened it, wheezing with the weight of the old bottles. There were whiskies and brandies, liqueurs and digestifs, all sorts of strangely coloured spirits that she’d never heard of. It was the cabinet of a true enthusiast. And there, right at the back, was an unopened bottle of Cognac, with a faded black-and-white label depicting a sketch of St James’s Street. Bottled in 1974, cached away for a rainy day.

She hesitated. It felt strange to be opening something that had been kept for so long. As if she were opening up history itself, a moment in time that could never be recovered. “Well, don’t leave it too long,” said Granny’s voice in her head, “or the angels will drink it all.”

Evie smiled, conceding that Granny, being no angel herself, was always right.

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Sugar Rum Cherry

This week’s accompanying track comes from another treasure trove from 1960: Duke Ellington’s jazzy interpretation of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite. There are so many wonderful tracks on this album, it’s like a box of boozy chocolate treats. I especially love this twist on the Dance of the Sugar-Plum Fairy, which transforms the twinkling enchantment of Christmas Eve into something that feels louche and a bit mischievous. It’s syncopated, pared back, with a sultry saxophone carrying the melody as it lilts back and forth. Like the scoundrel you love staggering into bed at midnight, tasting like rum and cherries when you kiss them. The best thing to say is: go to sleep, you’re drunk.