Page 9 of Christmas Wishes at Pudding Hall
What a shame, Christa thought looking at the kitchen set-up. ‘What time is dinner?’ she asked.
‘Seven is fine. Usually, the twins eat in the kitchen and the adults sit in the dining room. It’s very formal.’
‘Wow, okay.’ Christa couldn’t understand when people didn’t want to eat with their children. How would they learn manners or appropriate behaviour if they didn’t have good role models? That’s why she always admired the French and them taking children out so early in life to cafés and letting them sit at the table like young adults.
‘What do you want me to make for dinner?’ she asked as she heard Adam’s voice calling Paul.
‘I should go,’ he said but he turned as he was leaving the kitchen. ‘Selene said you’re amazing, so surprise us.’
‘Love her,’ said Christa.
‘Same!’ said Paul.
‘Sorry about yelling about the dripping from the rain – I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that,’ she said. ‘I worried about the boys on their skates with the marble and the water.’
Paul shrugged. ‘No offence taken. I didn’t think about them actually, so it was good you did. They don’t always get thought of first in this house,’ he said he with a wry look at her.
He walked to the door. ‘Sing out if you need anything. I’ll be around.’
And then Christa was alone again, wishing everything about the arrival had gone differently and wondering how she would make it through the next few weeks.
4
Walking through the hall to go downstairs, Christa wondered about the house and its belongings. Everything was artfully placed and expensive, from the carpets that sunk under her feet, to the art in the elegant frames that were probably by famous artists she didn’t know and the furniture that all seemed to be covered in silk and beautiful prints.
She had seen people who were well off like Simon’s parents but this was next-level. Every room was decorated sympathetically to the style of the house but no one was in them. So many rooms unlived in, when so many people were living without a home. It felt jarring as she walked down the quiet hallway and turned at the sound of a fire crackling. She looked inside and gasped at the sight of the most beautiful wallpaper she had ever seen – gold and black with deer, squirrels and rabbits amongst ferns and flowers. The room’s furniture was all dark wood and leather, and there was a large desk and a fire in the grate.
‘Can I help you?’ she heard Marc say behind her.
‘Sorry, I was just admiring the wallpaper,’ she said and turned to him. ‘It’s so beautiful.’
He looked at her and then the wallpaper and back to her and nodded. She felt silly for commenting. He probably looked at it every day and was tired of it, or he thought she was a snoop. Everything about this man told her he had money. His expensive hoodie with the luxury label sewn onto the left breast. Well-fitted dark jeans and the trainers she had only ever seen in magazines with the unmistakable branding. Christa wasn’t impressed by labels, but she did notice how Marc ran his hands through his dark blonde hair and that his tan seemed real. There were flecks of grey in his hair, just a few, and she respected he kept them there. He was tall and slim, and she noticed he had some bracelets on one arm. One of them spelled out Dad in beads and she felt herself soften a little at his gesture to his children.
‘Excuse me,’ she said and she walked towards the stairs to go to the car to get her luggage and special chef knives that she took everywhere.
‘Is your room okay?’ she heard him ask.
Adam the officious lawyer had shown her to the floor and had pointed at the room that would be hers for the next month.
‘Sure, I mean there’s no gold wallpaper of forest animals frolicking but it will suffice,’ she joked.
Marc looked at her and frowned.
‘That was a joke,’ she said. God, this guy was a barrel of laughs.
‘Okay,’ he said and he walked into what she now presumed was his study and closed the door.
She immediately regretted her pithy comment. What she wanted to say was her room was lovely. It was nicer than she had expected or assumed she might be afforded for her time here.
She thought perhaps it would be a single room with a bed and bathroom. What she got was a true suite, similar to one she had stayed in on her wedding night at a fancy hotel. A large bedroom with a king-sized bed and a sitting room with a television and sofa set and new glossy magazines on the table. The bathroom was stocked with all the appropriate Penhaligon’s toiletries and a soft robe was hanging on a hook against the tiles.
She stood at the top of the stairs and wondered, and then went back to the room Marc had disappeared into and knocked. ‘Come in,’ she heard and she opened the door.
‘Yeah?’ he asked, looking up from his laptop from behind the desk.
‘I wanted to say the room I’ve been given is lovely. It’s much nicer than what I thought it would be and really generous. So thank you,’ she said, feeling awkward.
Marc leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable.
