Last Christmas (25 page)

She’d wandered about forlornly before hiding herself by the fire in the corner of the vast drawing room, trying not to look too much like a wallflower, wishing that Luke wasn’t proving so elusive. The tight knot of worry that had been building in her since yesterday’s disastrous family lunch was getting bigger by the minute. For some reason, she suddenly had a very bad feeling about this evening. Luke
seemed so on edge around her and, if she hadn’t known better, she might have thought he was avoiding her.

‘My rogue of a grandson not looking after you again?’ Ralph Nicholas had appeared at her side. He had an uncanny knack of doing that.

‘Oh, I expect he’s got lots of people to catch up with.’ Marianne felt utterly feeble for trying to excuse the inexcusable, but she couldn’t bear to admit to this kind man how desolate and abandoned she was feeling. To make herself look slightly less pathetic, she turned her attention to the impressive stone fireplace that dominated the room and pretended that she was concentrating on a detail in it. It was carved out with fleurs-de-lys, and cherubs flew from the corners of the mantelpiece. Above the fireplace hung a massive oval mirror with gilt edges and, above that, carved into the stonework, was a coat of arms with a Latin motto.

‘What’s the writing above the fireplace?’ she asked, squinting at it.

‘It’s our family motto,’ said Ralph. ‘
Servimus liberi liberi quia diligimus.
’

‘What does it mean?’ said Marianne. ‘I never studied Latin.’

‘Freely we serve, because we freely love,’ said Ralph. ‘It’s a code I’ve always tried to live by.’

‘Freely we serve, because we freely love,’ Marianne repeated slowly. She vaguely remembered Luke quoting it at her, on her first trip to Hopesay Manor. ‘I rather like that.’

There was a pause, during which Marianne wondered how soon she could politely make her excuses, when Ralph suddenly asked, ‘Has Luke ever shown you round the place properly?’

‘Well, only that first time, when we met you,’ said Marianne.

‘Let me give you the guided tour, then,’ said Ralph.

‘What about your guests?’ enquired Marianne.

‘Do you think they’ll even notice if I’ve gone?’ said Ralph.

Marianne laughed and followed Ralph through the house back to the hallway with its amazing oak staircase. It was even more magnificent than she remembered. She remembered the black and white marble paving in the hallway, but had forgotten just how ornate the carvings in the ceilings were. More flying cherubs graced the corners of the room, and the ceiling high above them was dominated by a painting of the world on which an angel stood, plunging a giant sword into a writhing serpent.

‘St Michael casting Lucifer out of heaven,’ said Ralph.

Ralph led her upstairs and guided her through various bedchambers, many of which had four-poster beds made of oak.

‘They’re so small,’ marvelled Marianne. ‘Were people dwarves in the olden days or something?’

‘Ah, a common misconception,’ said Ralph. ‘People in the sixteenth century discovered by trial and error that if they didn’t sit up in bed they were likely to suffocate with the smoke as their fires went out, so they slept sitting upright in bed.’

‘Well, I’d never have thought of that,’ said Marianne, marvelling at the rich tapestries on the walls depicting hunting scenes, mythological creatures and pastoral idylls. Ralph was a wonderful guide and took the trouble to explain every detail.

The connecting corridors between the rooms were often low and panelled in oak, and round every corner there seemed to be a new surprise as Ralph took her past nooks and crannies, and then, to her delight…

‘We have at least three, but I’ve only found two,’ said Ralph, as he took her into a smallish, rather Spartan-looking
room with a wooden seat and small table in one corner. ‘Just lean on that panel there for me, would you?’

Marianne duly leaned on the panel and suddenly there was a click and the whole thing swung open to reveal a tiny little chapel.

‘It’s a priest hole,’ she cried in delight.

‘Indeed it is,’said Ralph. ‘This is where my ancestors used to have mass said by their priest during Elizabeth I’s time.’

‘This house and everything, it’s so amazing,’ said Marianne as she followed Ralph back down the corridor to a minstrels’ gallery above the Great Hall where the party guests were thronging.

‘Glad you appreciate it,’ said Ralph. ‘But my absolutely favourite part of the house is here.’

They came down the main stairs back to the hall, and he led her down a dark side passage. He opened a small wooden door and Marianne gasped. They were in a wonderful little chapel, where the organist from the village, Mr Edwards, she thought his name was, was playing ‘Silent Night’.

‘Sorry, Ralph,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t resist.’

‘Carry on, carry on,’ insisted Ralph.

The chapel was very plain, with whitewashed walls and a simple altar underneath a stained glass window. It was lit with candles and the pews were dark oak. In the furthest corner she could make out the tomb of a mediaeval knight. ‘One of my ancestors,’ said Ralph, ‘he was a Templar. His father’s buried in the Temple Church in London.’

‘It’s wonderful,’ said Marianne, looking round her in awe. ‘So simple, yet beautiful. How old is it?’

‘There’s been a chapel of some sort here since mediaeval times,’ said Ralph. ‘I’m glad you like it.’

‘I love it. Thanks so much for showing me,’ said Marianne.

‘My pleasure,’ said Ralph.

Marianne stood in silence, drinking it in as Mr Edwards played the haunting notes of the ‘Coventry Carol’. It was the perfect setting for such ancient music, which seemed to hang in the air somehow, and Marianne was momentarily transported to another place, another time. In her mind’s eye she could see Ralph’s ancestors standing here in this very same chapel, listening to the same ancient song of praise. The carol came to an end and Marianne shook herself from her reverie, before glancing at her watch.

‘Oh my goodness, is that the time? I’d better see where Luke’s got to.’

‘Of course,’ said Ralph. ‘Don’t let an old duffer like me stop you having fun.’ He stopped to chat to Mr Edwards, while Marianne made her way back to the party. Luke would be wondering where she was by now. She was heading back for the hall when she heard whispers and giggling round the corner. Was that Luke’s voice? Who on earth was he with?

Marianne walked down the corridor with a sinking heart. She turned the corner, to see her fiancé with his tongue stuck firmly down Clarissa’s throat.

‘That’s it.’ Cat kneeled back on her heels. She’d sorted all the presents into piles of those to go under the tree and those to go into stockings. James, who’d been up and down the stairs like a yo-yo, had been sent back to bed with stern warnings that if he came down one more time Santa certainly would not be coming. Paige, who had just woken up, burst into tears when she heard her brother declare loudly that there was no such thing as Santa, but Cat had managed to pacify her in the end.

‘Drink and one present before bed?’ Noel came into the lounge proffering a bottle.

‘What a good idea,’ sighed Cat.

She leaned back into the sofa and snuggled up next to Noel, grateful that Angela had gone to bed hours earlier.

‘Happy Christmas, sweetheart,’ she said, ‘and thanks for all your help today.’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ protested Noel.

‘Yes you did,’said Cat.‘I wouldn’t have got anything done without you.’

‘Right, presents,’ said Noel, putting his glass down.

‘Mine aren’t desperately exciting, I’m afraid,’ said Cat.

Noel got up, went over to the Christmas tree and picked up one of his to give to her, and Cat scrabbled under the Christmas tree for something halfway decent. She found him a couple of CDs she knew he’d like.

‘Great, thanks,’ he said and kissed her on the top of her head. ‘Go on, open yours. You’re going to love it.’

Cat ripped open the gossamer-thin paper wrapped round what looked like—was—an envelope. She opened it curiously. Noel clearly was expecting her to like it as he was jumping up and down like a demented chicken.

‘A day at the Sanctuary? Noel, that’s fabulous! But can we afford it?’ said Cat.

‘Shh,’ said Noel putting his finger to her lips. ‘You never do anything for yourself. I think you deserve a treat.’

‘I feel terrible, none of your presents are nearly that generous,’ said Cat.

‘I know a way you can make up for it,’ said Noel mischievously.

‘We’ve got to do the kids’ stockings first,’ warned Cat.

Noel went up first to check everyone was finally asleep and, giggling like schoolchildren, they went round the house putting presents in stockings. This was the best bit of Christmas Eve as far as Cat was concerned. She loved the sound of rustling presents, and the sight of the children
softly asleep, knowing how excited they were going to be when they woke up. It took her right back to her own childhood.

They tumbled into bed and made gloriously satisfying love. Cat went to sleep with a smile on her face, and woke up a few hours later with one too. This was going to be the perfect Christmas. The best ever.

The morning didn’t start quite smoothly though.

‘Don’t you have any muesli?’ Angela asked querulously at breakfast. ‘You know I always have it for breakfast.’

Actually Cat hadn’t known. Angela had been insisting on prunes for breakfast since she’d arrived, and to Cat’s knowledge had never had muesli when staying with them in her life.

Ruby turned pale at the sight of breakfast and promptly threw up. At which point Cat discovered she’d eaten every single piece of chocolate that Santa had left in the selection box in her stocking. Cat had been planning for the whole family to go to the nine thirty Family Service, but Noel used Ruby being sick as an excuse not to go, and Angela cried off too, leaving Cat with the other three who moaned all the way. Cat had only gone for the carols, and was disappointed not to get any, apart from ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ at the end. It didn’t feel like Christmas at all.

By the time they got home, Mum had arrived with Great Uncle Paddy, who demanded that they find him a straight-backed chair to sit in then complained because it was too uncomfortable. In the end Noel brought down his office chair and shoved a cushion behind it, which seemed to do the trick, but the tone was already set.

Then Auntie Eileen arrived to provide some festive cheer in the shape of gin, which she insisted on everyone sharing. Cat suspected Auntie Eileen had already imbibed a fair bit before she arrived. Her red nose was worthy of Rudolph.
Finally Soppy Sarah turned up late, flustered and apologetically twittering about how long the vicar went on today. She took one look at Ruby dressed in the Santa outfit she’d got for Christmas, pronounced her ‘totally adorable’, and promptly burst into tears. Cat had to kick both James and Mel in the shins to stop them laughing out loud. They ran off up the stairs in fits of hysterics. Cat rubbed her forehead, where the glimmerings of a headache were beginning to form. She had a feeling it was going to be a very long day. At least she could escape to the kitchen.

Noel, who appeared to have taken Auntie Eileen’s offers of gin as a good enough reason to start drinking rather earlier than Cat would have liked, was clearly being driven insane by his mother as he kept coming into the kitchen and annoying her.

‘Will you get back out there with our guests?’ she hissed.

‘You invited them all,’ said Noel, ‘you go.’

‘No-el,’ said Cat warningly.

‘Okay, okay, I’m gone,’ said Noel.

Lunch was eventually served about an hour after she’d intended, as always seemed to be the case on Christmas Day. By now Auntie Eileen had really lost the plot and was humming Christmas carols out loud, which of course was too much for Mel and James who, despite Cat’s warning looks, spent most of lunch in fits of hysterics. Meanwhile Soppy Sarah and Great Uncle Paddy had made the mistake of talking politics. As Sarah was the most liberal of wets and Great Uncle Paddy the most right-wing of fascists, this was not going down too well. Thankfully Granny Dreamboat was doing a sterling job of playing referee.

Angela took advantage of this to spend the whole meal quietly needling Noel about his job.

‘Is it going to survive this credit crunch, do you think?’ she kept asking, till even Cat was sick of it.

‘Mum, will you just leave it,’ Noel ended up exploding. ‘I don’t want to talk about work on Christmas Day.’

At that, Angela got up and rushed off in floods of tears, so Cat felt duty-bound to follow her.

‘Way to go, Noel,’ she said, wondering why, when it was always Noel who made his mother cry, it was she who picked up the pieces.

‘How are you doing, cuz?’ Pippa found Gabriel in the garden, once again fruitlessly sending a text message to Eve. ‘Do you know, if you’re not careful, I’m going to smash that phone up and throw it in the midden.’

‘You’d probably be doing me a favour,’ said Gabriel ruefully. ‘You’re right. I’m wasting my time. I just keep hoping. It’s bad enough for me, but how can she do that to Stephen?’

‘I think,’ said Pippa carefully, ‘that Eve’s been in a very very dark place for a long time, and I don’t think you can judge her actions right now the way you can a normal person’s. And in a way, she may have done the best thing by leaving.’

‘How can it be the best thing?’ said Gabriel, shivering in the cold. There was still a smattering of snow on the ground, and though the sun was bright in the sky it was hardly warm.

‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Gabe,’ said Pippa, ‘but I don’t think you help her. I know, I know. You want to. And you’ve cared for her brilliantly all these years. It’s your special skill, that, caring for others. But sometimes people need to stand on their own two feet.’

‘And you think Eve is better off without me?’ Gabriel knew in his heart that Pippa was right. All his caring for Eve had been useless. He couldn’t get inside her head and sort it out, only she could do that.

‘In a way, yes. She’s just like all those birds with broken wings you tended when we were kids,’ said Pippa. ‘Only you’ve never let her have the opportunity to fly. Maybe if you do, she’ll come back better, and you three can move forward towards some kind of normal life. You couldn’t have carried on the way you were.’