A Proper Family Christmas (24 page)

“Oh it's wonderful, Julia! I can never stop mine from trying to keeling over, or having all the lights showing on one side. Someone ought to take a photograph.”

“Good idea! I'll get my camera after tea.” Oliver smiled at her. Unprepared, she felt a kind of whoosh and then a pain, as if he'd hurled a missile which had landed in her stomach. She made every effort to smile back, and failed.

“Yes, do! We must have lots of nice pictures of us all gathered round singing carols or something,” gushed Julia. “Find a chair, Hilary. …I'll be back in a tick. I forgot the sugar.”

“Come and sit here. I wanted a word…”

Oh no, she really didn't want to sit next to Leo! …But then she didn't much want to share the sofa with Tony either. - And as for Oliver, she daren't even look in his direction, for fear of that blow striking again.

William, bless him, must have noticed her hesitation. “It would be nice if you kept an old man company for a change. There's a perfectly good seat here.”

She took it gratefully. For a moment it seemed that Leo was going to draw his chair nearer. Then he sat down, staring at the window.

“Have you ever thought this place might be haunted?” he asked no one in particular.

“Good lord, Leo, a rational man like you doesn't believe in ghosts?” exclaimed Tony, with an amused glance at the others.

“No of course not - really.” Leo's gaze was still on the window. No one had drawn the curtains yet, making a pretty effect with the reflections from the tree. “I had some rather strange experiences when I was alone here this morning, that's all. …And I could have sworn that curtain moved just now.”

“Well there's a howling draft from the window,” Tony reminded him. “Needs double-glazing.”

“…My God, it's just too funny!” Julia giggled as she came back with the sugar. “You should
see
the ghastly tea-party they're having next door, - all the best china, and Stephen and Lesley playing Lord and Lady of the Manor to the Tenantry, teaching those poor little boys to crook their little fingers and use a butter-knife!”

“Practising for when they inherit Haseley House, I suppose - God help us!” chuckled Tony. “There'll be no holding them then, will there? …Sales of work for the Poor and Needy of the Parish, Open Days for the local yokels, - with Lesley in a terrible hat and Stephen making one of his speeches.”

“Aren't we horrid?” said Julia cheerfully. “But I can't think what possessed Lesley to make the Arncotts stay on for tea. I thought she was as keen to get shot of them as everyone else, and they really have had a fair whack. Poor little Posy's exhausted!”

“Personally I think Tobias will go to the bad,” Tony continued his speculations. “He'll get some unsuitable village girl up the duff - an Arncott cousin, probably, - and end up being forced to make her his Lady of the Manor. …What do you reckon, Hilary?”

“Shot-gun weddings aren't very fashionable nowadays,” she pointed out, uncomfortable at being drawn into this.

“Don't, Tony!” Julia shuddered. “Just imagine if the whole cycle started again with another Lesley? It's quite unbearable.”

“Scratch,” said Oliver suddenly, “what are you doing?”

Oh betrayer! …And he'd been so close!

Scratch had crept in behind Julia, eager to see if this Christmas tree lived up to expectations, - and discovered cat heaven! Strands of gold and silver lametta wafted provocatively to and fro in the draft; delicate balls of glass dangled just within reach; every branch held a tempting spiky candle that made one's paws itch to poke them. No one could have been more appreciative of Julia's efforts, and Scratch had been about to enjoy them to the full. Foiled in mid spring, he sat back on his haunches and directed a look of deep reproach at his erstwhile friend.

“Oh no,
how
did he get in here? I'll swear I haven't let a soul past me all afternoon,” wailed Julia. “Naughty cat! You mustn't jump on the Christmas tree,” she told him, with the effectualness shown in bringing up her child.

About to treat that command with the respect it deserved, Scratch was suddenly distracted. He stiffened, staring at the bottom of the curtain.

“There! The cat's seen something now.” Leo pointed a triumphant, if slightly shaking finger.

“Probably a mouse,” said Tony, eyeing Hilary, but it was Julia who obliged with a little shriek.

“Funny colour then,” said Oliver. Risking a look, Hilary saw that he was laughing.

The curtain laughed back, then flung itself aside.

“…Oh all right then, fair cop!” said Daniel. “But admit you never would have found me yourselves.”

Frances felt another wave of homesickness as they bathed the children and put them to bed. Christmas Eve had always been such a magical time at home! Although it was several years since even Alex had believed in Father Christmas, they still kept up the fiction, - everyone, including Frances, hanging their stockings up, in delighted anticipation of the annual miracle that would see them bulging with little parcels in the morning. And the excitement of waking in the early hours and unwrapping them all had never quite died, even though no one expected more than novelty pencil-sharpeners or chocolate teddies, with the regulation tangerine in the toe.

Posy and Tobias had been given stockings to hang up too, but the magic of the occasion was tainted by a subtly materialistic atmosphere which Frances found depressing.

“My stocking's bigger than yours, Tobias. That means I'll get more presents!”

“Nonsense, Posy! Do you think Father Christmas gives more to children with fatter legs?” …Or to children whose Mummies wore long sexy nylons, rather than thick woollen socks.

“And Santa only brings stuff to kids who've been
good
this year,” Shelley reminded her, with a playful clout.

“When we're at home I have a pillow-case as well,” went on the irrepressible Posy, “else all my presents won't fit in.”

Having glimpsed the collection of ‘stocking-fillers' scattered over Julia's bed ready for packing, Frances could see the logic of this. She just hoped that some tactful compromise would be reached with the mother of a child who'd only been given a woolly sock to fill.

“Sounds as if the chimney won't be wide enough for all your presents,” she observed drily. “Perhaps Father Christmas will have to save some for later.”

“Oh no, I don't like saving. I like to have everything now,” Posy informed them. “…Anyway,” she went on, with a sly look at Tobias, “I
know
something about Father Christmas, - something secret. Shall I tell you what it is?”

“No, Posy, you're not going to tell him
anything
!” Frances interrupted fiercely. “If I hear one more word on the subject, believe me, it won't only be Tobias's Christmas that'll be spoilt!”

“Ooh…oo!” crowed Shelley, in a tone that hovered between derision and respect at her vehemence.

Posy looked from one to the other, and opted to scramble into bed. “When this is my house, I'm going to have the chimneys made
enormous
,” she stretched her arms to demonstrate. “Then there'll be room to get all my presents down, and lots more extra.”

Tobias looked at her, puzzled. “But
I
'm going to live in this house when I'm big. - Are you going to be there as well?”

“I'm not having
you
living with me!” Posy informed him with infinite scorn. “I shall have a proper husband. He's going to be very rich and buy me presents all the time.”

“You tell him, Pose!” chuckled Shelley.

It occurred to Frances that Posy's rather dubious moral standards weren't likely to be raised by her nanny.

“We don't want much of a meal tonight, do we?” said Julia.

“Don't we?” said Margery, who hadn't had any tea.

“Not after that massive lunch. - And turkey and plum pud tomorrow.”

As one who was quite sure she'd never be hungry again, Hilary had nothing against this.

“Oh dear,” Julia went on, “I suppose somebody's going to have to get up early and cook it all. We can't really ask Kath Arncott to come in on Christmas Day…” She glanced at William, hoping he'd contradict her.

“That's okay, I'll do it,” said Oliver.

“What? Cook the whole of Christmas dinner?” Everyone stared at him.

“Yes, why not? Someone can help me with the veg.”

He didn't look in Hilary's direction. - It would have caused her problems if he had, of course. She could hardly have refused to help him. …But
she
was his co-chef, wasn't she? Why hadn't he turned to her?

“Daniel will give me a hand, I expect. We make a good team.” He smiled at Daniel, and Hilary felt her heart contract. … Christ almighty! Surely she wasn't jealous of her own son?

Lesley came to read the children their bedtime story, and Frances was sent off to clear up the bathroom. She wasn't as grateful as she might have been when Shelley offered to give her a hand. Apart from wanting some time alone to indulge in missing her family, she suspected that Shelley was itching for the chance to tell her exactly what she and Daniel had been up to this afternoon. He had turned up eventually, the story being that he'd found the perfect hiding-place by creeping into the sitting-room when Julia's back was turned, and taking advantage of the fact that she was keeping everyone else out to remain undiscovered till tea-time. …Yes, well. It would need a gullible jury not to pick holes in that as an alibi! - And where was Shelley supposed to have been all that time?

But her first words on the subject took Frances by surprise.

“I reckon Daniel Watlington's gay.”

“I beg your pardon?” Frances paused in the act of folding a towel.

“Well it happens, doesn't it? Some blokes just aren't interested in women.”

“Yes, but I don't think Daniel's one of them.”

“Oh, right? And you've checked that out personally, I suppose?- I don't think so!”

Frances was too relieved at the implication of what Shelley was saying to mind her sarcasm. “So you didn't - um - I mean…?”

“Oh, shut up! …He's gay. I can always tell.” Shelley kicked Posy's top up off the floor and caught it glumly. “I knew with that Mr. Leafield the moment I saw him.”

“What? You mean
Oliver's
gay?” Frances leant back against the bath and stared at her.

“For God's sake! How naive are you? …Of course he's gay, dummy!” Shelley gave up any pretence of folding Posy's clothes, and pulled down the loo-seat to sit on. “Man of his age - no wife or girlfriend, poncing about taking pictures of everything?” She seemed to run out of evidence at that stage. “ - Anyway, Julia told me. …And you went all round Cirencester with him, and never noticed? Oh dear!”

“But I thought that he and Daniel's mother… I thought she liked him.” Frances gazed at the bathmat, trying to make sense of things. She'd been pretty certain that Hilary felt more than liking for Oliver Leafield, and up to now she would have said that he was quite keen on her as well. Surely Daniel had noticed it too? If it was possible for two people that old to be falling in love, Hilary and Oliver had shown all the signs.

“You mean Daniel's mum
fancies
him? Oh yuck!”

“Well he's sort of good-looking…”

“As in
gay
! They always are, aren't they? And they take care of themselves, those people,” said the knowledgeable Shelley. “Anyway, he's got
wrinkles
!”

Shelley couldn't summon up the imagination to see how a man that age could possibly be attractive to anyone, but Frances had more breadth of vision. Oliver had a great deal of charm, he was good fun and interesting to talk to, and he had a nice, fine-featured face, to which a few lines merely added character. She could quite understand his appeal to a woman more of his own generation. She liked Hilary, but at first she'd found her somewhat withdrawn, - more crushed by her widowhood perhaps than her own mother, with four lively children to drag her back to reality. But on this morning's expedition, in Oliver's company, Hilary had begun to come out of herself and show a girlish, fun side, - more of the person she must have been before her husband's death. …At least, that's how she had been until lunch-time, - no, throughout lunch too. Frances had seen her laughing cheerfully at the other table. It was when they'd got back to the car, and Hilary had suddenly, mysteriously decided not to go back with them, - run away, almost, as if she could no longer bear to be in their company…

“Oh my God!” She must have just found out, - on the way back to the car park. She'd been walking with Julia and Tony, hadn't she? They must have told her. …Oh poor,
poor
Hilary! If the news had been a shock for Frances, what had Hilary felt on discovering that someone she had just begun to fall in love with was never going to feel the same way about her? No wonder she had looked so ghastly, and leapt at the excuse Shelley gave her to ride in the other car! Poor Oliver too. He'd been awfully upset and had spent the whole journey wondering what he could possibly have said or done to offend her. Well, Frances could have answered his hurt questions now, but she had no intention of betraying Hilary's feelings, - and anyway perhaps by this time he had worked it out for himself.

“Fancy a walk, Daniel?”

“What, now?” He looked at Oliver in surprise. “It's a bit dark.”

“We can take a torch. I just fancied a bit of fresh air.”

“Well, yeah - okay.”

“…That's a good idea!” said Leo. “Come on, Hilary.”

“Er - no, thanks. I don't want to wander outside in the cold.” …Or play gooseberry to whatever was going on between those two.

Tony's beady eyes followed them as they left the room. He leant towards her and murmured slyly. “Nothing for it, I'm afraid! The man's going to cook Christmas dinner for us, after all. Daniel's virtue has to be sacrificed to the greater good!”