Page 38 of One More Christmas at the Castle
‘You should wear a hat,’ I told him. ‘It’s so cold down here by the lake that your ears might freeze solid and fall off.’
‘It’s usually in my pocket, but I must have left it somewhere,’ he said apologetically and I realized I was now bossing him about the same way I did with Henry’s dippy friends.
‘I expect it didn’t feel so cold in the trees. I found it quite mild coming down the terraces, until I came out here.’
‘It’s always like that. The ground opens out so much that it’s more exposed, I suppose …’ he said, then felt his ears gingerly with both hands. ‘I don’tthinkmy ears have gone brittle.’
Plum sat down on the toes of my moccasin boots, which was obviously warmer than the ground and I bent down and stroked his silky little domed head. He looked appealingly up at me.
‘The poor little thing lookssoexhausted!’
‘He always looks tired. In a minute he’ll demand I carry him up to the house, but I thought we could both do with a bit of air and exercise before lunch and I expect you felt the same way.’
‘Yes, but I reallymustbe getting back now, or there won’t be any lunch! I’ve been out longer than I meant to.’
And nor, despite my resolve, had I kept the distance between Xan and myself that I’d intended to …
He didn’t seem to have taken in what I said, for he was once more gazing out at the lake.
‘In summer, you can swim here – there’s a small changing hut behind the temple,’ he said. ‘But in winter, it often freezes over hard enough to skate on. Sabine used to be an ace skater!’
‘Really?’ I said, fascinated by this unexpected insight into my employer, despite my urge to get away.
‘There’s a whole collection of skates in the cupboard under the stairs in the Garden Hall, from strap-on Victorian ones to the modern boot type. I think the Castle family down the generations must all have skated on the lake.’
‘It’s quite big, so it’s hard to imagine it freezing solid.’
‘You’d be surprised: the weather now is amazingly mild for this time of the year, but it can be changeable, so you need to keep your eye on the weather reports for the possibility of ice and snow.’
‘Mrs Powys did mention that to us, because of having enough supplies in. But Henry wouldlovesome snow! He’s brought one of his snowboards with him, just in case.’
‘Oh? I’ve never tried that, or surfing. I suspect you get on better if you have a lower centre of gravity than I have, like Henry.’
‘Yes, that’s what he says, too: being short and muscular is good. Icansurf, because I learned while out in California, staying with my dad, but I’m not very good.’
‘The field below the fort runs downwards steeply for quite a way, then plateaus out at the bottom, so Henry could probably stop before he hit the dry-stone wall,’ Xan suggested.
‘I think someone else mentioned that field, but I’ll tell him,’ I said. ‘Being Henry, he’d probably just bounce off the wall, while recording the whole thing on the little camera he straps to his head, for his blog, or vlog, or whatever he calls it.’
Xan was looking amused again. ‘I must check it out! What’s it called?’
‘Rudge the Roamer,’ I told him.
‘I remember Henry being sporty at school – rugby and all the team things I hated. I was always a swotty geek.’
‘I suppose you were, really,’ I said absently, and then realized he was looking at me strangely and added, quickly, ‘I mean, that’s more or less what Henry said about you.’
‘Oh, right. No, I’m definitely not sporty, though I like walking Plum – orcarryingPlum – and swimming, when I get the chance, and visiting historic sites. But that’s about it.’
‘Me too, though I love visiting gardens. And I did try skiing once, when we were catering for a winter house party in an Austrian chalet, but I just kept landing on my back, unable to get up again, like a dying insect. Of course, Henry was in his element and spent all his free time snowboarding down horrendous mountain slopes. I couldn’t bear to watch him, but I do think it’s time he gave up extreme sports now.’
‘Since he’s two years younger than me, I suppose the poor old thing must be all of thirty-five now,’ he said gravely, though a smile lurked in his eyes. ‘I wonder how I came to forget to bring my bath chair with me …’
‘Well, you know what I mean,’ I protested. ‘You don’t bounce the same way when you get older.’
I cast a look at the lake and shivered. ‘It’s hard to imagine that it’s ever warm enough to swim in there! And really, I prefer the water I’m swimming in to be clear enough so I can see what’s sharing it with me.’
‘You’d love the beach near my parents’ house on Corfu, then,’ he said. ‘It was my grandparents’, originally. My grandfather, Tommy, married and settled on Corfu and my parents have kept it on as a holiday home. They both work at the university in Athens.’
