Page 6 of One More Christmas at the Castle
Henry’s predilection for old movies had permanently warped my subconscious.
Time was getting on and I suddenly decided to treat myself to lunch at the café in the town square before going home. I’d only just parked and got out, when I spotted Liam, my loathly ex-fiancé, pushing a monstrous baby buggy along the street, in which were the twins, side by side, and a toddler seated above and behind them – followed by a very pregnant Mia. She had to walk behind, because the ginormous buggy took up most of the pavement. I knew they had an older child, too, presumably at school.
The noise from two screaming infants and a toddler who was having a tantrum was clearly audible even after I’d flung myself back in the car and closed the door. Liam and Mia both looked harassed, but I knew from previous inadvertent encounters that, on sight of me, those expressions would immediately switch to a strange mix of defiant guilt and smug domestic bliss. If fecundity was an Olympic sport, they’d both be wearing gold medals.
This was extremely irritating, for although their double betrayal – Mia had been a friend – had hurt at the time, it seemed now as if it had happened to someone else. I was onlyavoiding them because it was annoying they thought I still cared, or envied them.
I bent my head down as if I’d dropped my keys on the floor, then as soon as the wailing receded, I sat up again. I’d gone right off the idea of lunch now and was just about to start the car and head home, when my phone burst into that mad xylophone thing that I’m always meaning to change. It was Henry.
‘You’ll never believe this, Dido, but not ten minutes after I changed our Christmas availability on the website, we had a new booking. Haven’t you alwaysyearnedto spend December in a castle in Northumberland?’
‘Frankly,no. It’s bleak as hell up there in winter,’ I told him, shivering, but he was too jubilant to listen.
‘Come home, darling, all is forgiven!’ he said, then rang off.
Sabine
I spent a satisfactory morning, securing the services of Heavenly Houseparties and discussing the arrangements with a young man who, of course, had no idea that I’d bought off his former client, Lady Bugle!
After that, it was necessary to put Lucy in the picture about both my illness and my plans, even if not theentirepicture, but a rather washy watercolour version.
After lunch, I explained that I’d recently seen a hospital consultant and knew that I wasn’t long for this world, a saccharine euphemism I despised, but which I knew would resonate with her.
I allowed her to run the full gamut of her emotions, from blank incomprehension, via shocked surprise, to lachrymose sympathy, but once she’d reached the stage of emitting faint moans and wringing her thin hands, like an actress in a cut-priceMacbethproduction, I finally snapped.
‘Oh, never mind all that, Lucy! I hate fuss.’
‘But it’s so dreadful!’ Lucy wailed. ‘What are you going todo?’
‘Well,die, obviously, though not just yet,’ I said tartly. ‘First, I need to put my affairs in order and make a will, once I’vedecided what will best secure the future of Mitras Castle. And to that end,’ I continued, ‘I’ve decided to hold one last Christmas house party and invite all the family … or what’s left of it. I want to look them over, before I finally make up my mind.’
Lucy gazed at me, her mouth half open, and then surprised me by blurting out: ‘But Nigel and I are youronlyrelatives, aren’t we? I mean, we’re your father’s cousins!’
‘Second cousins,’ I agreed.
‘Nigel says that if Faye was still alive, or had married and had children, things would be different …’ Lucy began revealingly, then tailed off, for the name of my half-sister is not usually uttered aloud in this house.
‘That’s immaterial, because she didn’t,’ I snapped, reflecting that Lucy wasn’t quite as stupid as she looked, and also that it sounded as if she and her brother had already been anticipating their eventual inheritance.
‘In any case, the question of who inherits as my nearest relative only applies if I die without making a will, and I’ve no intention of doing so.’
‘No, Cousin Sabine,’ she agreed meekly. ‘But therearen’tany other close relatives, are there?’
‘No. When I came to think about it, I realized the direct line had dwindled almost entirely away. But of course, there’s Olive Melling, Asa’s second cousin.’
‘But … Cousin Sabine! Surely you’d prefer Mitras Castle to descend in your own family, rather than your late husband’s?’
‘Since you and Nigel are related to my father, a Mordue, rather than from my mother, whose family built the Castle, that doesn’t really seem to make much difference,’ I said. ‘The Mellings have a son, too, and I do want to ensure there will be some continuity of ownership in the Castle’s future.’
Of course, I had no real idea of leaving the Castle to the Mellings, but Lucy rose to the bait beautifully.
‘Nigel might still get married,’ she said quickly.
‘As far as I can see, he’s wedded to his old books and his amateur theatricals,’ I said. ‘But I’ll have him over, and the Mellings, and I’m sure seeing them all again will help me come to a decision. I’m inviting a couple more people to leaven the mix too. Xan, for instance.’
‘Xan?’ Lucy echoed blankly.
‘Xan Fellowes, my godson – you’ve met him here at past Christmas parties. He was Asa’s godson, as well as mine, and he was very fond of him.’
