Page 12 of One More Christmas at the Castle
We also carried a basic stock of baking and cooking ingredients – spices, dried yeast, baking powder … tinned goods that could be jazzed up to make a meal in an emergency. Mitras Castle was not only in a remote spot, but far enough north to make winter driving conditions potentially hazardous, so we might well not be able to pop out to the shops for anything we’d run out of.
One of the first things I’d do when we’d settled in was makean inventory of what was in the store cupboards and freezer and what extras needed to be ordered in for the Christmas house party. I had some handy checklists I’d drawn up over the years. A successful house party is all in the planning and organization really, and in accommodating yourself to the usual household routine.
Henry’s contribution to the cooking utensils was mostly confined to his madeleine baking trays and the rest of the equipment he would need for the production of tasty hors d’oeuvres, little cakes and biscuits, which were his speciality, while I did most of the rest of the cooking. We had our own roles and made a good team.
Even though Mrs Powys had expressed no desire to have her guests greeted with pomp and circumstance, Henry had packed his very natty butler’s outfit, just in case, which made him look like an escapee from a Bertie Wooster novel. Also the things he considered vital to his existence: his glass teapot and a large supply of weird teabags, his down duvet and pillow, a supply of old films and a DVD player, for you never knew if the staff sitting room – if one even existed – would have one, let alone a Sky subscription … Unfortunately there was no guarantee of a fast internet connection, either.
He’d put his favourite snowboard in, too, though as I’d already pointed out, even if there was snow over Christmas, breaking his leg snowboarding in unfamiliar terrain would probably not go down well with our employer.
My personal comforts were a small coffee machine and a supply of pods to go in it, my Kindle, well stocked, and a box of real books too – plus a box of copies of my own new book, which had arrived while I was away in the States:A Tiny Taste of Andalusia.
By the time we’d added our suitcases and warm outdoorclothing, boots and wellies, found a space for the box marked ‘Instant Christmas’ (for us, with a pop-up tree, crackers and decorations), there was little room left.
I squeezed in my toolbox and other household emergency equipment – people expect Henry to be the handyman, but he’s almost entirely useless, even with a sink plunger, let alone coping with bigger plumbing or any other catastrophes – and then, right near the rear door, two folding snow shovels that we hoped we wouldn’t need.
‘Where’s the picnic hamper?’ Henry asked as he speeded up to join the M6.
‘On the floor, next to my feet. Soup, tea, coffee, sandwiches, crisps and a packet of those mini chocolate swiss rolls you like,’ I said. I’d assembled our travelling feast while he went to fill up the van with petrol and set the satnav with the Mitras Castle postcode.
‘When can we stop for lunch?’ he said greedily.
‘Not until we’re well north of the Blackpool turn,’ I told him severely. ‘We’ve barely started and you’ve not long since had breakfast.’
‘That seems like hours ago,’ he complained, then added suddenly: ‘Did you remember your laptop and phone?’
‘Of course – and my charger. We checked every single thing off the list, remember?’
‘I know, but wealwaysforget something.’
‘True, but it’s usually something we don’tknowwe’re going to need, like that house where we couldn’t find a single corkscrew.’
‘That was weird, considering they had a cellar full of wine. They must have pulled the corks out with their teeth,’ he said. ‘Where’s the nearest shopping centre, if we need something urgently?’
‘I don’t know if there’s a village with a shop anywhere near,but the road past Mitras Castle goes to Carlisle one way and Newcastle the other. The nearest town will be Hexham, I expect, which I know quite well, of course, because of Charlotte’s family living nearby. I’ve told her we’re coming up, and she and the children are spending Christmas with her parents, so if the weather’s OK we might manage to meet up.’
Charlotte was now divorced and she and her two little girls lived in Barnard Castle, where she had a small shop specializing in tapestry and cross-stitch supplies.
‘Fat chance if she doesn’t come up before the guests arrive, because we’ll be too busy.’
‘I know and she’s posting my present directly to the Castle, just in case,’ I agreed. ‘I’ve already sent hers – a tiny painting I bought in California.’
In fact, I was giving everyone a small picture this year, which I’d bought from a pavement artist. They were no great works of art, but colourful and fun. Henry’s was of a surfboard leaning against a palm tree and was packed away in my suitcase.
‘I ordered the usual amphora of strawberry jam from Fortnum and Mason to be delivered to Mummy,’ Henry said. ‘I think she must bathe in the stuff. And some of their hideously expensive crystallized fruits, too. She won’t take them to the family gathering, though; she’ll hoard them for when she gets home again.’
‘Duty done, then,’ I said. ‘I expect Granny and Dora will bring us both back some souvenirs of their travels.’
‘Where are they now?’ he asked.
‘I’ve entirely forgotten, and their postcards usually arrive weeks after they’ve moved on to the next place,’ I said. ‘I have the cruise ship details for emergencies, though. They’re back some time in February.’
‘Didn’t you say you knew the area round Hexham prettywell, from spending school summer holidays with Charlotte’s family?’ Henry said.
‘Yes, we often went into Hexham. Charlie’s family were happy she had someone her own age to keep her company and there were ponies, a tennis court and even a small, freezing open-air swimming pool.’
‘They must be loaded!’
‘Pretty well off. The house was a former rectory – one of those vast Victorian ones, though they’d installed all the mod cons. Charlie has an older brother, Gerry, but he didn’t take a lot of notice of us,’ I added and then, as I did whenever I remembered the events of my last visit there, when I was sixteen, went hot all over.
