Page 50 of A Very Irish Christmas
‘Well,’ I say, laughing at the image, ‘those are both good things in their own way, but I’d suggest you embellish the truth for now. Say you can provide a DJ, live bands, full catering, luxury overnight suites.’
‘Luxury suites!’ he says, snorting in amusement. ‘We’d better get rid of the mice first, I suppose!’
‘Yeah, that might be a good idea. Wouldn’t get your Tripadvisor rating off to a good start!’
We carry on companionably, focusing mainly on the task at hand, but eventually my nosy side kicks in again.
‘What about you, though, Charles?’ I say, as we emerge back into the lobby. I notice that several Christmas decorations have been dislodged from the lower branches, and lie mauled and moist on the carpet. The joys of a puppy, right there.
‘What about me?’ he says, picking them up and smiling.
‘Leonora has a new boyfriend, I gather from what she said. You’re still young, you’re eligible, haven’t you considered getting back out there, meeting someone?’
He considers this, then gestures around him.
‘There’s a lot to deal with already,’ he answers. ‘The estate, Georgie, my mother, the impending financial doom. I’m not sure how eligible any of that makes me – my life is really rather messy. Plus, after Leonora, I don’t know if I’d have the energy – she ruined me for other women!’
He looks at me for a beat, his green eyes on mine, and adds: ‘At least, I used to think she had…’
I have no idea if he means what I think he means, and I’m scared to ask. Is this going to result in him offering me more dance classes, or am I imagining that this moment feels kind of significant? And if I’m not imagining it, how do I feel about it?
Before I get a chance to stutter out a reply, a whirlwind of women arrives, streaming through the front door. They’re led by Mary Catherine, who has recruited a small squadronof women from the village. There are around ten of them, all wearing Christmas sweaters, all bearing feather dusters, cloths and cleaning products.
Charles grins at me, looking slightly wicked as he does so, and says: ‘To be continued?’ before he goes to greet them.
‘Thought we’d start off proceedings with a good old-fashioned spring clean, even though it is winter!’ Mary Catherine announces as they all troop through and admire the Christmas tree. ‘Come on now, girls, up and at ’em! Let’s get this place sparkling!’
TWO WEEKS UNTIL CHRISTMAS
‘May your heart be filled with gratitude for the blessings of the past and the promise of the future’
Irish blessing
TWENTY
BANCROFT MANOR
I’m amazed at the speed with which things start to happen once the whole village is on board. We decide to create one ‘luxury guest suite’, and cannibalise the best furniture and fittings from the rest of the rooms to make it look swish. When it’s done, the fire roaring, the four-poster bed draped in sumptuous fabrics, it looks fantastic.
The rest of the rooms are coming along nicely as well, with strategic use of what we already have, and everything else hired from local businesses. Mary Catherine and her team use a huge machine called a ‘buffer’ to polish up the parquet in the ballroom, and every one of the many windows and glass doors is shining.
One of the villagers’ daughters, Emily, is home from college where she’s studying fashion, and she is an absolute godsend. She buys in cheap fabric and transforms it into beautiful netting that we hang strategically – with the right gust of wind, it billows perfectly and will look amazing in the pictures. She’s also found swathes of extra material in storage – old drapes that she remakes for the other rooms. In return, she’s been given her choice of outfits from the Dressing Room. Georgie took her up there and apparently she almost swooned.
A few of the items we’ve hired are already here – easels, whiteboards, real business-style chairs. The rest will be coming soon, and in the meantime, the place has been a hive of activity – echoing to the sounds of drilling, hammering, and people singing as they work.
Charles is delighted with the response, and Allegra has definitely been enjoying herself. She doesn’t remember people’s names, and is sometimes confused by all the activity, but the lively atmosphere and the company have lifted her spirits. Maybe it’s a reminder of different times, when the house was at the centre of the social whirl.
The people of the village have been generous with their time and skills, fitting it all in around their normal jobs and responsibilities. It’s been a truly inspiring experience, seeing the whole community come together like this, and I feel quietly confident about the upcoming photoshoot.
Today, everyone is having a well-deserved afternoon off. As a thank you to the villagers, a gorgeous Christmas grotto has been arranged for all the local children to enjoy. It was Allegra’s idea, and she and Georgie bought all the gifts and wrapped them.
The grotto has been set up in the secret garden I discovered on my first night here, and it looks magical. The winding path has been dotted with little displays of elves and fairies; the trees and shrubs are decorated with dangling baubles and tinsel. The snow is still thick and dazzlingly white, and as the children and parents make their way in, the place is filled with laughter and high spirits.
At the end of the path, installed on a bench beneath one of the huge pine trees, is Martin from the village, putting his beer belly to good use. He’s dressed in full Santa gear, complete with a bushy fake beard and shiny black boots. He really does look the part, and who’s to say that Santa isn’t Irish?
Eileen is next to him, a table laid out with freshly baked treats – mince pies, I’m told they’re called – and big urns full of drinking chocolate. Each child sits on Martin’s lap, tells him what they want for Christmas, and is given a rummage in the gift sack. Then they move on to Eileen, who lets them loose with the squirty cream and marshmallows.
Someone has put carols on their phone, and an impromptu choir has sprung up, currently bellowing out ‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful’ with great gusto. Ryan is here, chasing a bunch of already hyped-up kids around the monkey puzzle tree with a plastic sword, all of them screaming when he catches them and inflicts a thorough tickling.
