Page 80 of One More Christmas at the Castle
‘Only because it was stupid of you to try doing this alone when I could have helped.’
‘Well, now you’re here, you can help me finish it,’ I suggested, and of course, with the two of us, it took no time at all.
This was just as well because it was perishing cold out thereand the bright sun didn’t seem to have any warmth in it, though I hoped it would at least charge the solar lights up a bit.
We needed the hot soup and toasted sandwiches to thaw us out, and luckily, the cleaners had finished in the kitchen by then.
Henry returned with two lovely pots of narcissi and enough flowers for a wedding, and vanished into the cloakroom off the Garden Hall to arrange them.
Xan had asked him to get some snacks, soft drinks and beer, as his contribution to our film evenings, and a packet of Jaffa Cakes for me. He must have remembered my not-so-secret vice.
Still, at least Xan and I seemed to be friends again even if, when I went to the study after lunch to do a bit more shelf-sorting, he didn’t even trust me with the short library steps any more.
Instead, he abandoned his letters and helped me again, as I slowly worked my way down the next stack.
Outside, the skies began to darken as the afternoon drew on, and we went to look out of the dining-room window to see if anything was happening with the solar lights. There, like magic, the stars on the tree had begun to glow.
Mrs Powys only arrived back just before tea and Henry, who was placing one of his flower arrangements on the table under the Great Hall window, let her in.
‘And she was absolutely astonished by the lights on the tree, and thought it was my doing,’ he reported. ‘But I told her no, it was a little Christmas surprise from you, and she would findmyseasonal gesture in her boudoir when she went up.’
‘I’m so glad she liked them,’ I said, pleased.
‘She said to thank you very much – and sheadoredmy flower arrangements in the Hall.’
‘Tea’s nearly ready. Is there any sign of Lucy?’
‘I know she’s back because her car was in the garage when I took Mrs Powys’s round. She must have gone straight up to her room, but she won’t miss her tea.’
‘She’s just like a little mouse, creeping about the place and squeaking from time to time,’ I said.
‘Well, she eats more than mere crumbs – I don’t know where she puts it all,’ Henry said. ‘Speaking of which, what’s that lovely smell?’
‘Lancashire hotpot. I’m making individual ones with shortcrust pastry lids for dinner.’
‘And for us, too, I hope!’ he said.
There was quite a delay before Henry came back after taking the after-dinner coffee to the sitting room, which, it turned out, was due to Mrs Powys having traced a distant connection by marriage to Henry’s branch of the Rudges.
‘There’s that big, framed family tree in the Great Hall.’
I sang ‘I’m in with the in crowd!’ at him until he threw an oven mitt at me, but it would appear that, as far as he was concerned, the lines between the help and the rest of the household had blurred just a little more.
That evening, watching the latest offering in our Christmas film fest, I was more conscious than ever of Xan, sitting so close to me on the sofa. Plum was snoring on my lap and only an opened packet of Jaffa Cakes lay between us.
Sabine
I went up to rest before dinner, though mainly because I felt I needed some time alone with my thoughts.
Recently, I’ve quite often found myself forgetting who Dido is and the reason I wanted her here in the first place … and she’s so unobtrusive when she does venture out of the staff wing. Her cooking, too, is excellent and she and Henry have already made such a difference to life at the Castle. Everything runs smoothly, like it did in the old days, when staff were easy to get and to keep.
There have, I confess, been one or two moments when I’ve felt almost ashamed of the impulse that led me to employ Faye’s granddaughter in a menial capacity in her former home. Looking back now, what satisfaction did I think it would give me? You can’t revenge yourself on the dead by humiliating their descendants.
This was brought home to me even more when I emerged from the dark drive this afternoon and saw the fir tree on the lawn lit up with big, golden stars, and then learned from Henry that it had been Dido’s idea, a Christmas surprise for me.
I asked Henry to give her my thanks, but must say something to her in the morning, when she brings my breakfast …
Henry, very sweetly, has placed a pot of spring bulbs in Nancy’s room, as well as one here, in my boudoir, and they smell like the spring I may not live to see …
