Page 92 of One More Christmas at the Castle
‘We must remember not to hang any of the biscuits within dog reach,’ I said.
‘Thereyou are,’ said Henry when I went into the kitchen. ‘Everything’s ready in the Hall and Nancy brought me the CDs – the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge. There’s an old stereo system in the billiard room, so we can play them on that and leave the door to the Hall open.’
‘Perfect,’ I said. ‘So we only need the mulled wine and the mince pies on the trolley and we’re good to go?’
‘Got it in one,’ he said, stirring a pan on the stove, from which emanated a spicy aroma.
When all was ready, he took charge of the trolley, while I followed with the box of gingerbread biscuits.
Plum, who had wandered in a few minutes before, brought up the rear of our little procession.
The daylight was fading fast, but the cavernous Great Hall looked warm and inviting, not least because, on his own initiative, Henry had lit a log fire in the baronial-sized hearth and the bright flames leaped and reflected off the copper and brass diving helmets.
There was a huge wooden cartwheel of a ceiling fitting, too,suspended from the centre of the ceiling, but since its rim was only studded with candle bulbs, it didn’t give out a huge amount of light.
A little extra illumination was provided by several wall brackets shaped like naked, muscular arms, each holding out a frosted glass ice-cream cone that gave off a dim amber glow.
The Christmas tree was placed slight off centre, nearer the stairs, its circular green felt mat obscuring the mosaic of Mithras, all but one heel emerging from the cleft in a rock.
Scattered on the floor around it, as if washed there by a high tide, were the opened boxes of decorations, lights, tinsel and the Nativity scene. The stepladders stood open and ready for action, though after my mishap in the snow I felt no desire this time to offer to go up them.
Nancy and Sabine emerged from the billiard room, borne along on a loud waft of ‘Once in Royal David’s City’.
‘That’s loud enough from here, isn’t it?’ Nancy said. ‘How lovely and inviting the Hall looks. This is going to be fun! Let’s get cracking!’
Sabine smiled fondly at her. ‘You’re such a child at heart!’
‘We’re all children at heart, but not all of us admit to it,’ she said, twinkling.
‘Henry, let Dido serve the wine, while you and Xan help Nancy find the Nativity set, because I know she wants to put that up first of all,’ Sabine directed, moving to sit on a suitably regal high-backed wooden chair, with padded velvet seat and armrests.
‘I do – it’s the most important element and should go up first,’ Nancy said. ‘And if they’re helping, Dido and Henry must have some mulled wine too, mustn’t they?’
‘Well, I—’ began Sabine.
‘Good, because it’s literally the very Spirit of Christmas!’ said Nancy, and gave a little, excited giggle.
While I ladled the mulled wine into the little cups, Xan and Henry unpacked the Nativity figures from their wrappings and set them on the floor, where they looked like guests who’d arrived too early for a party.
‘I’d forgotten how enormous they are,’ Sabine said.
‘You need something substantial in this size of a room,’ Xan said. ‘Anything smaller would be totally lost.’
The Nativity was set up in its usual corner, in front of one of the strange wall lights, the figures positioned under a sort of flat-pack pergola, which represented the stable.
It was an extensive – and must have been anexpensive– set, including not only the Holy Family and manger, but an ox, a donkey and two sheep, all lying down, as if the excitement had been too much for them.
‘I could do with some straw for the manger,’ Nancy said, when it was all arranged out to her satisfaction. ‘I’ll borrow a cushion from the sitting room for now, but it won’t quite strike the right note.’
‘I think there’s some in a packing case in the cellar,’ Henry said. ‘I’ll have a look later.’
Sabine had drunk most of her hot wine and some colour had come into her pale face. I’d only had a token sip and then passed the plate of mince pies round before she began directing me to look among the boxes for two large, porcelain-faced figures – a Father Christmas, whose place was apparently at the foot of the stairs, and a very beautiful Angel Gabriel, about eighteen inches tall, with gilded metal wings and stiffened gold ribbons of gauze seeming to float around it.
This went on the table under the window, where the magazinesand newspapers were placed in the mornings. The effect was as if it had just alighted there and was quite surprised about it.
Once I’d found these, I was allowed to top up the glasses and circulate the last of the mince pies while the others were unpacking the baubles, but we all helped to hang them up. Even Mrs Powys was unable to resist delving into the boxes in search of favourites.
Xan and Henry were in charge of hanging the highest decorations up, using the stepladders, though Xan managed to fit the huge golden star-shaped tree-topper over the very topmost spike by going up the stairs and leaning right out over the banisters.
