Page 60 of One More Christmas at the Castle
I paused a moment, thinking back.
‘We didn’t even stay the night. I just packed up what I wanted to take to Greece with me and two days later we were in Corfu!’
‘Quite a change,’ Xan commented, smiling.
‘Oh, I loved it from the first moment! And Asa’s villa on Corfu became my second home. Tommy had a house nearby and he’d recently married your grandmother, Rose. We all immediately became good friends. By the oddest of coincidences, I discovered Rose’s maiden name had been Archbold and we managed to trace a distant link to a branch of my mother’s side of the family.’
‘It’s strange how these coincidences happen,’ Xan agreed. ‘I know quite a bit from Tommy about the social life out there at the time, though of course, by the time I came along Corfu was more about tourists than artists and writers, but still lovely.’
‘Asa and I were very fond of your father – I still am, of course – and of you, too.’
‘You and Asa have always felt like family,’ Xan said, smiling at me.
‘Youarefamily, even if very distantly related, through Rose,’ I pointed out.
‘I think that’s so diluted, it’s the merest trace of a connection,’he said. ‘And we seem to have wandered off course a bit, haven’t we? You’d just arrived on the island and begun to settle in.’
‘Everything was so new, different and exciting. It was the start of the most wonderful period of my life!’
A kaleidoscope of happy, sunlit images sparkled in my mind and I must have fallen quiet for a while, because Xan said, softly: ‘Sabine? I think that’s a good point to end on today, don’t you?’
17
Lightly Frosted
There was a very Christmas-card sprinkling of snow when I looked out next morning, though the sky was still dark indigo with a sequin spatter of stars.
Henry had told me he’d be out early to fetch the papers, but I wasn’t worried because he’d checked over the old Land Rover the previous day and also found some chains for the wheels, if the roads got really bad. I didn’t think he’d need them today, though; the snow looked no more than a decorative powdering.
He came back soon after I’d made the first pot of coffee, with snowflakes starring his red-gold curls and his cheeks pink from the cold, so he looked even more cherubic than usual.
He took the bundle of papers and a couple of upmarket magazines through to the Great Hall, where they were always laid out on a round table under one of the front windows.
‘I thinkHorse and Houndmust be a nostalgia trip for Mrs Powys,’ he said, returning and gratefully accepting his mug of coffee. ‘Perhaps her mother rode to hounds?’
‘Maybe, though it’s all drag hunting now, isn’t it? They don’t kill anything. What was the other glossy magazine?’
‘Country House Living. There was an article on creatingChristmas garlands and swags from garden gleanings, which looked good. Their idea of a garden seemed to be on the same scale as the grounds here. I might borrow the mag when I make the ones for the Great Hall.’
‘I’m sure there must be holly and ivy, and there’s a big bay tree in the herb garden, too. What with those and a few fir tree clippings you should have plenty to work with,’ I agreed.
‘Xan was just going out with Plum when I got back, but I don’t think he’ll hang about out there this morning, so he’ll probably be in for breakfast shortly,’ Henry said. ‘Bacon rolls again, I think – do you want one, too?’
‘OK,’ I agreed, succumbing to temptation. ‘What’s Wallstone like?’
‘It’s a fairly substantial village. There’s an old church, a pub and a tea room, as well as the shop. I think in the tourist season they get quite a lot of visitors to the local history museum and to look at the big Roman stone in the middle of the Green. It’s supposed to be that two-headed god, Janus, but it was still dark, so I’ll have a look another time.’
‘Were the roads OK?’
‘No problem. There was already a tractor and gritter out. The sky’s clear, too, so I doubt there’ll be any more snow for a while, anyway.’
He sounded regretful. He was probably hoping for enough to try a little snowboarding down the field below the Roman site.
‘If the weather turnsreallyrough, I can always collect the papers later in the day. Mrs Powys won’t expect me to kill myself, just so she can readThe Timesin the mornings.’
‘No, I don’t think that’s one of the things we offer along with our other services,’ I agreed.
Henry took the bread, butter and milk through to the breakfast room while I got Mrs Powys’s tray ready and took itup, passing Xan on the way. He was in one of the small rooms off the passage, towelling Plum’s legs and tummy dry. He looked up and gave me a smile, which I returned, but didn’t say anything. We already felt so easy together, even after such a short time.
