Page 148 of One More Christmas at the Castle
‘We’ll all have to assemble in the Great Hall at ten for the presents,’ he reminded me. ‘Though you can sneak off after a few minutes, if you need to. I think it might be a coffee and mince pie occasion, too, but I can see to that.’
By ten, the vegetables were sitting in cold water and the Christmas pudding had been removed from the larder, freshly wrapped in greaseproof paper and returned to its spherical mould. This was now sitting on a raised metal ring in a giant saucepan with a little water at the bottom, ready to be steamed for an hour.
I had the brandy for the top ready to be warmed before it was poured over it and lit, just before serving.
That was the trouble with being asked both to cook the dinner and sit down with everyone else to eat it: you were up and down to the kitchen like a yo-yo.
Nigel and Lucy distributed the presents, many of which consisted, as expected, of crafty items from the Christmas fair. Dom and Nancy had been particularly generous in this respect, but there were also conical packets of Nancy’s fudge for us all.
Xan and I exchanged copies of our books – and discovered we’d written almost exactly the same messages inside …
Mrs Powys’s gifts of Liberty scarves and paperknives were well received, even by Sophie, as were the pink champagne truffles Henry and I gave to Lucy. In fact, for a horrible moment, I thought she was going to cry, until luckily her attention became distracted by Xan, who had unwrapped my present to Plum and was now putting him into his new, bright tartan doggy coat.
Plum seemed to rather fancy himself in it, wading about in the discarded, crumpled wrapping paper, so I hoped it would keep him snug on his winter walks.
I think for me, the highlight of the occasion was seeing Mr Makepeace’s face when he unwrapped his bright pink flamingo pen, though Mrs Powys seemed quite taken with hers.
Xan and I exchanged smiles before I quietly slipped out, carrying my booty, and left Henry to circulate the last of the mince pies and coffee.
When he brought in his loot ten minutes later, he told me I’d missed seeing Sophie throw a hissy fit.
‘Something Nancy said made it suddenly dawn on Sophie that we’d be thirteen for dinner and since she’s really superstitious and thinks that’s unlucky, she went a bit overboard.’
‘Well, we can’t magic up another guest, just to please her!’
‘It’s all right, I told her I’d lay a place for Plum, even if he canonly join us virtually. Xan says his table manners aren’t up to the challenge.’
Finally, the turkey, roasted to perfection, was resting on one end of the kitchen table and the pudding gently steaming.
Henry had already done a quick change into a shirt and chinos and I left him in charge of the kitchen, while I dashed off to do the same – only in my case, into a sea-green silk tunic and narrow black velvet trousers,andmy party moccasins, with the gold-beaded thunderbirds on the toes.
‘Right!’ I said, back down in the kitchen again and wrapping a big apron over my finery. ‘I’ll make the gravy and then we’re good to go!’
‘Everything’s all ready in the dining room. Mrs Powys gave me place cards and we’re sitting at one end, on either side of Xan. Dom helped me lay the table and put the crackers out, so it all looksperfect.’
Dom, Xan and Nancy came to help transport the feast to the table, but first Dom was dispatched to beat the gong, which he did with almost as much enthusiasm as Henry usually brought to the task.
‘Dinner is served – or about to be,’ Henry said, picking up the enormous oval plate bearing the turkey and leading the procession to the dining room.
I was glad I’d remembered to change, because the other women were all wearing what I mentally labelled ‘cocktail dresses’, though in Sophie’s case, that was more of a cocktail tunic.
Of the men, only Frank and Mr Makepeace wore suits. Nigel had now, like Dom, donned a Christmas jumper, though his was adorned, appropriately enough, with the jolly, smiling face of Father Christmas.
Everyone found his or her place and Nigel said he’d take charge of the enormous bottle of champagne, which Henry had had to put in a galvanized pail in lieu of an ice bucket.
‘Henry can carve the turkey,’ directed Mrs Powys. ‘I expect he’ll do it better than anyone else.’
‘I’m sure you’re right, but first, everyone,’ said Nancy, ‘you must sit down while I say grace.’
‘One of your shorter ones, I hope!’ said Mrs Powys, but she bowed her head obediently and we all followed suit … or at least, since I also closed my eyes, Iassumedwe did – I wouldn’t vouch for Sophie.
‘Let us pray,’ said Nancy, and then, in her soft voice, began:
On Christmas Day our hearts we raise
In words of thanksgiving and praise
For bringing us together here
