Page 43 of One More Christmas at the Castle
‘It was, and I’d like some of the family Christmas traditions I remember from that time to be incorporated in this one, even though I know you can never go back and recapture the magic.’
I’d experienced such a mixture of emotions while I was talking that I felt quite drained and yet restless afterwards, so I went down to seek the solace of the Winter Garden – and to see what flowers were out. Mummy planted it. She was an avid collector of plants and shrubs that could be coaxed into winter flowering in this sheltered spot on the middle terrace. Andy has tended it well all these years too, but now there will need to be a new gardener … But that, and the Castle’s future, will be in the hands of someone else and I need to ensure that it all goes on afterIdo not.
The National Trust would certainly do that, but impersonally. Would there be anyone to love and feel a connection with the house and garden?
I rested until dinner, which was, I have to say, excellently cooked and served.
Then later, when I was about to retire to bed at my usual time, accompanied by Lucy, who always goes up with me – even though I suspect she then spends hours reading romantic novels and consuming chocolates – she showed a tendency to linger.
I’d noticed she was being very silly over Xan and I hope she’s not going to make a nuisance of herself. I was firm with her,though, and said that we old fogeys always retired early and I hoped he could amuse himself.Thatfirmly reminded Lucy that she was almost old enough to be his mother.
He said of course he could and, if I had no objection, he’d see if Henry would like a game of billiards.
I couldn’t really say no to this – Henry must have long since finished his duties for the day. And I suppose I don’t really mind Henry, who is from an excellent family, keeping Xan company until my other guests arrive.
Dido, though, would be another kettle of fish entirely.
12
Stone Cold
I awoke very early next morning and lay there for a while feeling, after everything I’d done the day before, empowered, energetic and in control.
I had the running of the household – especially the catering – at my fingertips … or at least, I would have, once Henry had ordered in the supplies.
After that, I could produce all the delicious meals Mrs Powys yearned forandbegin to stock up the freezer with batches of soup, quiches, pies, flans, stock and casseroles, ready for the arrival of the house party. There were several things I could make and freeze in advance for Christmas dinner, too, from cranberry sauce and stuffing, to pigs in blankets.
Preparation in advance is the key to easy Christmas catering and can be scaled up or down, according to the numbers.
Today being Wednesday, the cleaners would be in from nine till one, and since Henry was going into Hexham, and Lucy and Mrs Powys would be out till the afternoon, there would only be lunch to get for Xan.
It was no wonder I’d woken up in a good mood!
When I’d dressed and drawn back my curtains, there wasstill a lingering, bright, late star in the dark indigo sky. I loved stars, though I couldn’t tell which was which and my knowledge of nebulas was nebulous.
Henry came down soon after me, looking disarmingly like a sleepy cherub, and shared my coffee, though not the toast and marmalade.
‘Xan’s joining me for a cooked breakfast again,’ he told me, ‘though I expect once this friend of Mrs Powys’s arrives, he’ll feel he should join her and Lucy in the morning room.’
I lightly boiled an egg for Mrs Powys and, on my way through the Garden Hall with it, noticed that Plum’s lead was missing from the hook by the door, so presumably Xan had already gone out with him.
This morning when I tapped on my employer’s door and went in, the curtains were still closed and the bedside lamp was casting a warm pool of light across the bed, where Mrs Powys was sitting propped up against her banked pillows, reading a small book.
The dark shadows under her eyes looked positively inky this morning.
She laid the book face down on the duvet. It was the writings of Dame Julian of Norwich, which I recognized because it was a favourite of Granny’s and she often quoted from it, especially the strangely comforting line: ‘… all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.’
I hadn’t had Mrs Powys down as religious, but then, her best friendwasa vicar, or retired vicar, if vicars ever really retire.
‘Good morning, Mrs Powys,’ I said, laying the tray across her knees. ‘I hope you slept well?’
She looked at me with those clear, pale blue eyes that were so startling in her lined face, as if the young Sabine was in there, looking out, and said, ‘At my age, one is just grateful tosleep at all. Perhaps in old age, the body ceases to need sleep to repair itself.’
‘It’s a theory,’ I agreed, then pulled a copy of the very long shopping list from my pocket and said that I thought she might like to look over it, before Henry put in the order. ‘It is very extensive, but apart from fresh fruit and vegetables and so on, there should be almost everything we need until the New Year.’
‘You can give it to me, but I’ll leave all that to you. It is what you’re here for, after all.’
‘Certainly, Mrs Powys. There are one or two other things I wanted to query with you, though, and also to tell you there are enough preserves, pickles and pâté in the larder to see you well into next year, so you won’t need to order any more from Fortnum and Mason.’
