Page 71 of One More Christmas at the Castle
‘You’re very mysterious, Dido! I suppose you’re going to serve up some fabulous feast?’
‘All the meals I cook are fabulous feasts,’ I said firmly.
‘True, but I can’t think what else it could be.’
‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’
‘Call me greedy, but whatisfor dinner tonight?’ he asked, as we zigzagged up the steep paths.
‘Medallions of pork tenderloin with apple sauce, followed by treacle tart.’
He groaned. ‘I can’t resist your cooking, and at this rate, I’ll be twice the man I was by New Year. I ought to get more exercise to burn it all off, though it’s not really the weather for long hikes.’
‘Perhaps Henry could teach you to snowboard?’
‘I don’t think that’s my kind of thing, but there are some sledges in one of the outbuildings. We could take those out sometime.’
‘And if the lake freezes solidly enough, you can skate,’ I suggested.
‘So could you. Sabine won’t mind if you borrow some of the old skates from the cupboard in the Garden Hall. I learned to skate on this lake and Asa’s old boots fit me.’
‘I can’t skate,’ I said dubiously. ‘I went to a rink with friends once and I had the bruises on my bum for a fortnight.’
‘I’ll teach you, if we get a hard enough freeze,’ he promised.
For the first time, I noticed that leaden clouds had sneaked in while we were talking and now fat flakes of snow were falling.
‘I hope it’s a bit milder next week,’ I said. ‘We need the cleaners to come in on Wednesday, and Mrs Kane’s arriving on Thursday. Do you know how she’s getting here?’
‘She’s driving herself – she’s quite intrepid. I think she’s stopping overnight with friends near Blackpool on the way up, though.’
‘She must be into her eighties, like Mrs Powys. It’s a long drive, even with a break.’
‘Well, Sabine still belts around in her sports car,’ he pointed out. ‘Nancy’s bright as a button and very active. She often fills in as locum vicar, when needed.’
‘She must be clever if she was a student at Oxford with Mrs Powys.’
‘She is, and became a lecturer before she made the leap to the clergy.’
We’d now arrived at the level of the Winter Garden and came out from a path bordered with witch hazel bushes covered in yellow and orange flowers, to find Mrs Powys, standing, deep in thought, by the stream.
That part of the garden might be protected from the worst of the elements, but there was still a scattering of snow. She had the deep shawl collar of her long fur coat pulled up around her ears and was wearing a fur Cossack-style hat.
I’d have thought our voices would have carried on the cold clear air and alerted her to our presence, but she seemed entirely unaware of us until Xan spoke.
‘Sabine! I didn’t think you’d be out in this weather. It’s bitterly cold and slippery underfoot on the steps, too.’
She seemed to pull her thoughts back from a long distance away and slowly focused on him.
‘I’m not a hothouse flower, Xan, and I needed to spend a little time here. But yes, I’ll go back now.’
‘We’ll go up together and you can take my arm so you don’t slip,’ he suggested.
‘Yes, do, and I’ll go ahead with Plum,’ I said, removing the dog from under Xan’s arm. ‘Perhaps you’d like a nice pot of tea to thaw you out when you get back, Mrs Powys.’
‘That would be … very acceptable,’ she agreed, so I left them to their slower ascent and hurried off.
After lunch was cleared, I went on the internet and ordered the solar lights for the fir tree on the lawn. There was quite a variety of the outdoor type, but I chose ones shaped like stars. They were, allegedly, arriving on Monday.
