Page 88 of The Christmas Invitation
I didn’t feel any sense that I was related to Mark or Sybil … and Mark had reacted to the news with anger, but once he’d accepted that his inheritance wasn’t in any danger from me or Mum, he’d been quite sweet.
As for Clara and Henry, I’d felt a warm regard for them from the moment of my arrival;theyfelt like my family, and the Red House my home, rather than Underhill and its inhabitants.
Sybil, clearly now thinking some gracious gesture was required, broke into my reverie. ‘You must come over to Underhill one day, Meg, and I’ll tell you something of the family history and about your grandfather.’
I’d heard quite enough about George and I’d already had the guided tour of the house and the ancestors from Mark, but I smiled at her and said, ‘That would be lovely, though what I’m really longing to see is the ancient inscribed stone Clara told me about. It was moved to the grounds of Underhill when the valley was flooded, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, and you must see it,’ Clara agreed. ‘It’s what first sparked my interest in ancient written languages. There are two different versions of the runic alphabet on it, one of them the earliest, with only sixteen letters.’
‘We’ll have all the time in the world to get to know Meg and show her the important landmarks and history of the valley,’ Henry said. ‘And what a big, jolly family party we’ll be for Christmas dinner this year!’
I thought that was slightly optimistic under the circumstances. Unfortunately it also reminded Mark of something.
Turning to his mother, he said, ‘I hope you’ve finally managed to get through to Piers and make sure he doesn’t turn up for Christmas, Mum?’
She looked nervous. ‘He isn’t answering his phone, but I left several messages explaining, in case he hadn’t got my letter, and I sent him another one. I do hope he’s not ill, or anything.’
‘He’s probably just sulking,’ said Mark.
Lex, who had lapsed into silence again, said he had to go back and do some work now, though I’m sure that was just an excuse. I knew the pottery was winding down ready for the Christmas break.
Clara pressed Sybil and Mark to stay for lunch, but Sybil said she thought she needed to ride out on the moors and think about things.
‘Of course, I’m very pleased to find out about you, Meg, it’s just that it’s all been veryunsettling, that’s all.’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I understand, because I felt exactly the same way when I found out, too.’
Tottie said she’d go with Sybil, since if the forecast was to be believed, they might not be able to ride for a couple of days. Sybil didn’t object, so I expect she’d talk it all over with her friend, like I had with Fliss, and feel much better.
Den cleared the things away, with Teddy’s help … or hindrance, since he insisted on pushing the trolley and it had the kind of wheels that tried to go in two different directions at once.
‘That didn’t go too badly,’ said Henry when the others had gone. ‘I knew it would be a bit of a stunner for poor old Sybil, but Mark took it quite well, really.’
‘Yes, once he was sure Meg and her mother wouldn’t try and claim anything from the estate!’ Clara gave her wide, toothy grin. ‘When we first told them who you were, Meg, Lex saidhe’d always felt there was something familiar about you and now he could see that it was a touch of the Doomes.’
That sounded about right.
After lunch I went up to my room to be alone for a while, and also to wrap the last of the little sketches I’d been surreptitiously drawing as gifts, then mounting in the card frames I’d bought in Great Mumming.
I looked out of my turret window from time to time and the sky appeared to be taking on an increasingly leaden, snowy aspect.
I rang Fliss up when I’d finished wrapping and gave her the latest instalment of what seemed to be turning into more of a saga than a romantic comedy.
‘It just needs Mum to turn up on the doorstep now and drift about being ditsy and off the wall,’ I finished, then sighed. ‘I wish shewouldreappear.’
‘I’m sure she’s all right. I mean, River thinks so, doesn’t he?’
Fliss liked River, whom she seemed to regard as somewhere between a fortune-teller and an oracle.
‘Yes,’ I agreed, with more positivity. ‘Heiscertain she’s alive, so she’s bound to resurface one of these days.’
‘I’ve found a lovely house online,’ Fliss said then. ‘It would be quite a long commute for Cal when he has to go into work, but then, he does travel so much, or work from home.’
‘What about your job?’ I asked.
‘I’d have to give it up and perhaps do supply teaching for a while, but the whole point of moving out is to find somewhere cheaper in the country, where we can bring up a family. I’m getting on, so there’s no time to lose.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ I said, with that familiar ache of loss. Motherhood was not going to be for me, though I’d probablyhave lots of fun being the mad auntie who turned up from time to time with presents.
