Page 55 of The Christmas Retreat
The vicar cut a strange figure, with his thin, scholarly face and fly-away white hair, clad as he was in a long white surcoat embroidered front and back with the red Maltese cross and also carrying a cross made out of reeds.
The crowd suddenly silenced as the door to the hall was thrown open, revealing the impressive figure of Cosmo, seeming taller and more commanding than ever. He swept down the steps in his long white robes, a crown of bronze oak leaves set on his dark head, and with a long white wooden stave or wand in one hand, which he knocked three times on the flags at the bottom of the steps, where the vicar and Rose waited. A fire burst into life at the top of the dark hill behind him.
‘Come, follow me!’ he called in his deep, resonant voice, and we all fell in behind them as they walked away across the bridge andthence up the path that zigzagged towards the beacon and Mab’s Grave, which stood out against the dusky sky.
The path took us through the woods, where Cosmo stopped to pour what Lily told me was wassail over the roots of a very old oak tree. The vicar gave some sort of a blessing, although a breeze snatched away most of his words. Then we continued upwards so that this rite could be repeated at the stone tomb.
After this we stood in a circle around the bonfire and Mr Jones, who was standing nearby, told me that in olden days young couples would jump over the bonfire, which was thought to be a lucky thing to do, but the practice had been stopped as too dangerous.
As the flames began to die, Cosmo and his two companions led the way back down again, and we found that trestle tables had been set up outside the village hall, from which warm light flooded out. They were laden with bowls of wassail punch and great platters of the biscuits that Mrs Bradley had been baking for days. Bea and Maudie stood there, graciously acknowledging the greetings of the people who came up for refreshment, but not, I observed, actually serving out the refreshments with their own hands. This was done by two of the maids, Bethan and, my particular friend, Efa.
I drank two cups of the hot spiced drink, which was rather nice but must have been more potent than it tasted, for things became a little fuzzy. When Cosmo came to ask me how I had enjoyed the proceedings, I found him strangely scary in his white robes, with his dark, deep set eyes fixed on me: much more Heathcliff than Mr Rochester – or even one of the Demon Kings he had just banished!
I put this all down to the wassail.
Not surprisingly, I had the strangest dreams last night.
Your loving friend,
Arwen
17
Mirror, Mirror
The rest of the party, except for Timon, who I suppose had already left for the pottery, was already seated at the long table and eating when we went in. All heads turned towards us and I felt my face, already glowing from the warmth of the house after the cold outside, go even pinker.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the pinkest of them all?
‘We wondered where you’d got to,’ said Verity. ‘I mean, I knowyoulike to go out early in the mornings, Rhys, but we assumed Ginny was having a lie-in after last night’sexcitements. Did you take her for an early walk?’
She made me sound like Snookums.
‘It turns out we’re both larks, up and about early,’ said Rhys, easily, ‘so Ginny helped me cut the mistletoe for the house. It’s in a sack in the hall, ready for Tudor.’
‘Tudor’s ace at doing the greenery decoration at Christmas,’ explained Nerys. ‘The swags are mostly artificial ones on a wire net base that you can push fresh greenery into as well, but of course we need bunches of mistletoe hanging up from the ceiling here and there, too.’
‘I’d have come to cut the mistletoe with you too, Daddy, if you’d asked me,’ said Cariad, aggrieved.
‘It would have taken me an hour to get you out of bed,’ he said, ruffling her tangled mop of brown hair as he passed her on his way back to take his seat, porridge in hand. ‘Last time you told me to go away, then just turned over and went back to sleep.’
‘Well, I expect I was much younger then,’ she said with dignity.
‘Yes, it must have been all of a year ago!’
‘It’s odd how during every retreat I’ve been to here, at least one or two guests seem to discover they enjoy early morning walks, isn’t it?’ Verity said. ‘It must be something in the air. But so annoying for you, Rhys, when I know you like to be alone at that hour.’
‘That entirely depends on the company,’ he said pleasantly.
‘I am not an early riser,’ stated Kate, lavishly buttering a roll and then reaching for the honey jar. ‘This is early for me. But then, I often work into the night.’
‘Then you must be an owl,’ said Evie.
‘Is she?’ Cariad said, looking at Kate with more interest. ‘What kind? Hoot, screech or barn?’
‘It is just a figure of speech,’ Kate said stiffly.
‘I can work any time,’ Evie announced. ‘And anywhere.’
