Naked Truths (34 page)

Saffron was also getting accustomed to new sounds on their walks around the estate. Instead of the bleep of London taxis or the blare of music from shop windows, Harriet was trying to teach her to recognize the different calls of the birds that inhabited Churchminster. The warbling of robins outside her bedroom window, the wheezing shriek of a barn owl, and the earthy croak of the pheasants who roamed the estate, dashing from one hedgerow to another.

Saffron watched now as the lithe outlines of the two lurchers appeared out of the mist, followed by the figure of Lady Frances, elegant as ever in a full-length brown waxed jacket and a Barbour Bushman hat. She looked so at home in these surroundings, thought Saffron, as she watched Frances call the dogs to heel.

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door.

‘I'm up, come in,' Saffron called. Harriet's head popped round. Her hair was a mass of brown frizz, sleep lines tracking down the right side of her face.

‘Morning! Did you sleep well?'

‘Like a log.'

‘Good-oh,' said Harriet. ‘Ready for breakfast? Cook always makes cinnamon pancakes on Christmas Eve.'

Saffron laughed. ‘At this rate I'm going to go back to London looking like Ten Ton Tessa.'

At Mill House, everyone was up breakfasting round the kitchen table. As usual, Calypso had been the last family member to appear, wearing what looked like a bright-pink romper suit.

‘Have you been rifling through Milo's wardrobe?' her father enquired over the top of his
Daily Telegraph
.

‘Ha ha. It's a Tangro.'

‘A what?'

Calypso rolled her eyes impatiently. ‘A Tangro. You wear it to bed when you've got fake tan on. Stops the sheets from getting dirty.'

‘Good Lord, now I've seen it all,' said Johnnie, disappearing behind his paper.

There was a mountain of things to be done. The turkey had to be picked up from the farm down the road, and Clementine had asked someone to come over and put the star on the top of her Christmas tree, as her stepladder had broken. Milo needed to be fed, bathed and entertained, and Caro had to pop to the bakery in Bedlington to pick up some more of their homemade croissants and
pains au chocolat
for breakfast tomorrow. She'd forgotten quite how much her family ate when they got together.

The house was looking wonderful, though. Fresh pine wafted through the downstairs rooms, mingling with the smell of the mince pies Tink was baking in the Aga. A mountain of presents festooned with bows and ribbon was piled high under the Christmas tree. Twice already Milo had been found trying to open those with the most interesting shapes. There had been a sticky moment when he'd ripped open a gift to find a wind-up ‘Wanking Santa' toy that one of Calypso's friends had given her as a joke.

‘Father Christmas's got a pink fing!' Milo gleefully announced as he ran into the kitchen to show everyone, ‘Wanking Santa' in full flow.

‘Milo, give that to me!' said Caro, snatching it out of her son's hands. He promptly burst into tears.

‘Gimme back Father Christmas!'

‘There, there, darling,' said Tink, scooping her grandson up. ‘Let's go and see what Pickles is up to.' She raised an eyebrow at Caro and whisked the little boy off to the living room.

‘I don't know how I'd feel if I saw that coming down the chimney,' said Benedict, recovering enough to finish his marmalade on toast.

That evening, Angie and Fred were holding a mulled wine and mince pie party. It was actually more of a Moët, caviar and smoked salmon affair, but the gathering had become something of an institution, attracting many of the Fox-Titts's glamorous, fun friends, as well as most of the village.

Clementine had offered to babysit Milo, as long as they were back in time for her to attend Midnight Mass. At eight o'clock Caro, Benedict, Johnnie, Tink, Calypso and Amelia drove over to the Maltings. Angie greeted them at the front door in a matching red silk hat and apron, fringed with white fur.

‘Merry Christmas! Tink, Johnnie – how wonderful to see you.'

‘Hullo, darling,' said Johnnie, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘You look as gorgeous as ever.'

‘You can come more often,' laughed Angie, enveloping Tink in a warm embrace.

The house was already jam-packed with people, talking and toasting each other with tall, fizzing flutes of champagne. Freddie, resplendent in a Father Christmas beard and silver bow tie, deftly moved amongst the crowd with delicious trays of canapés.

While Amelia went off to find the loo, Calypso scanned the living room. Across the sea of faces, she spotted Harriet helping herself to a canapé. Calypso waved her hand. ‘Hats! Over here.'

Harriet spotted her and broke into a huge smile. She made her way over, followed by a tall, slim girl with short peroxide-blonde hair. The girl was wearing black hot pants, thick red tights and lethal-looking pointy ankle boots.

‘Hello, Calypso!' Harriet hugged her. Calypso smiled at Harriet's friend.

‘Your boots are fabulous!'

The girl looked down and smiled. ‘Cheers. They're from some vintage bonkers shop off the King's Road. The guy tried to tell me they used to belong to Debbie Harry, but I'm not convinced.'

Calypso laughed and stuck her hand out. ‘I'm Calypso Standington-Fulthrope.'

Saffron shook it. ‘Saffron Walden. I live next door to your sister in London.'

‘Saffron's staying with us for Christmas,' explained Harriet.

‘Can I top you up, ladies?' A tall, broad-shouldered young man had appeared, clutching a bottle of champagne. Dressed in an open-necked blue shirt and chinos, he had a handsome, good-natured face.

‘Hi, Archie, are you back for the holidays?' asked Calypso.

‘Just a few days, actually. I'm off skiing on the twenty-seventh with a couple of the chaps from college.'

‘Where are you going?'

‘Val d'Isère.'

‘Wicked,' said Calypso as Archie filled her glass up.

‘Yeah, it should be good. Although by the looks of things, I'd be better off staying here. Pa and I were watching the farming forecast earlier. It looks like we might get snow in Churchminster.'

‘I hear you've got a new house guest on the horizon,' said Harriet.

‘Yeah, it's a guy from the project your magazine runs, isn't it?' Archie grinned. ‘My father is doing his nut about it, keeps going on about hoodies and Broken Britain.'

‘Archie, darling, can I borrow you for a sec?' called Angie.

‘Uh-oh, she probably wants me to brave the perilously steep steps into the cellar for more bubbles,' Archie chuckled. He smiled at them, eyes briefly resting on Saffron.

‘Excuse me, ladies.'

‘He's quite cute,' remarked Saffron as Archie strode off towards the kitchen.

‘I thought you were off men,' laughed Harriet.

‘I am! But I can window-shop. He's quite fit in that Prince Harry kind of way.'

‘Hope he hasn't got ginger pubes, though,' said Calypso mischievously, and they all fell about laughing.

By eleven thirty the party was starting to break up. It had been a typically sociable affair and everyone had been in very high spirits. Halfway through the evening, one of Freddie's old rugby friends had done a streak across the front lawn wearing nothing but a bauble from Angie's Christmas tree.

‘Can I offer you a lift to Midnight Mass?' Caro asked Harriet and Saffron. As she wasn't drinking, Caro had offered to be designated driver that Christmas. Brenda had kindly offered to baby-sit Milo.

‘That would be lovely, can you fit us in?'

Caro looked at her huge Land Cruiser, parked by the front of the house. ‘I could fit half of Gloucestershire in that thing!'

Saffron wasn't sure she was dressed appropriately for the occasion, until she looked at Calypso, in her black PVC leggings, her blonde mane wilder than ever. After the bauble streaking, Saffron was quickly learning that Churchminster wasn't a village that was easily shocked.

Caro opened her eyes to darkness. At first she thought she was dreaming. Batman was standing by the bed.
I am dreaming
, she thought sleepily,
it's the middle of the night
. Then Batman clambered up on the bed and starting bouncing on her.

‘Mummy! Benny-dict!'

There was a muffled groan beside her. ‘It's 6 a.m.'

Milo threw himself on Benedict's prostrate form.

‘Wake up!'

Benedict rolled over and looked at Caro.

‘Merry Christmas.' He kissed her softly on the lips, before Milo jumped on them, Pickles and all. Caro got a paw shoved up her nose.

‘OK, Milo, we're getting up!' She sat up and surveyed her son. Batman aside, Pickles was wearing a matching black eye mask and what seemed to be a mini-Robin outfit.

‘Good Lord, I've seen it all now,' said Benedict.

‘Aren't they great? I got them from this mad shop in New York that does fancy dress for people and their pets.' Calypso was standing in the kitchen watching Milo hurtle himself around like a superhero.

‘Na na na, Batman!'

Caro laughed. ‘I can't believe Milo dressed Pickles up, I have enough trouble getting him in his own clothes! Thanks, darling, it's awfully sweet of you.'

The two sisters were in their dressing gowns, drinking tea and sitting at opposite ends of the window seat that looked out on the village green. It was spectacularly pretty: a frost had settled overnight, cloaking everything in an iridescent gleam, and capping the roofs of the houses like the peaks of a mountain range. A watery sun had managed to break through the leaden skies; the rays sparkling against the snowy whiteness. Inches away through the glass pane a spider's web glistened like the finest silk, while a portly red robin suddenly appeared on the windowsill, cocked its head cheekily at them and flew off.

‘There's nowhere quite like it, is there?' said Calypso contently. She raised her mug and clinked it with Caro's.

‘Happy Christmas, sis.'

There were footsteps on the stairs, and moments later their parents came into the room. Tink was dressed up to the nines in a fabulous wrap dress and black heels, while her husband was looking dapper in sharply pressed chinos and a new striped Turnbull & Asser shirt. He was also wearing a rather incongruous reindeer hat, complete with horns and red nose.

‘Look what your mother got me,' he sighed, but it didn't sound like he minded too much.

Tink bounced over, as giddy as a schoolgirl. ‘Merry Christmas, my gorgeous girls!'

The pop of a champagne cork sounded in the kitchen. Benedict walked in with a tray of Buck's Fizz and a freshly squeezed orange juice for Caro. ‘Breakfast's nearly ready, but I thought we'd have these first,' he announced. He stuck his head back out the door.

‘Amelia, are you up yet?'

‘I think I heard her in the shower,' Tink told him.

Calypso took a glass from Benedict. ‘I'm going to be pissed by midday at this rate,' she said happily.

‘Don't get too blotto, you're on vegetable-peeling duty later,' said her father.

She looked unimpressed. ‘Isn't that what M&S is for?'

At 11 a.m., they had all attended the Christmas Day service at St Bartholomew's. It had been a wonderfully uplifting service, and virtually the whole village had turned up in their Christmas Day finery. Buoyed up by a glass of sherry from one of his parishioners, the vicar Brian Bellows had only stuttered a handful of times, even if he had dropped a Bible on his foot at one point and mouthed the word, ‘Bugger.' Afterwards, Clementine had led everyone off for a bracing walk around the Meadows, while Johnnie had returned to Mill House to put the goose in the oven. It was a bitingly cold day, the kind that got one round the cheeks and ears and refused to let go. Half of Gloucestershire seemed to be out in the countryside, muffled up against the elements to work up an appetite.

It was 4 p.m. by the time they sat down to a table groaning with food. Johnnie had surpassed himself, while Amelia wowed everyone with a homemade Christmas pudding, flickering with blue brandy flames as she carried it into the dining room. Full and happy, they ended the meal with port and delicious great hunks of smelly blue-veined cheese. Finally, it was time to open the presents.

‘More champagne, chaps?' asked Johnnie, waving the bottle.

Sitting down on the sofa, Tink groaned. ‘Oh, darling, I don't think I could. Why do you have to make such marvellous roast potatoes? I must have had about ten.'

‘I've never known you to turn down bubbles, Mummy,' laughed Caro.

‘Oh, you're right!' Tink smiled and held out her glass.

Benedict had been put in charge of handing out presents by Clementine. He reached for a soft, square parcel with a sumptuous red velvet bow and looked at the label.

Everyone watched as Tink peeled open the paper to reveal an exquisitely embroidered silk caftan.

‘Darling, it's exquisite!'

‘I thought it would be good for all those glamorous pool parties you and Daddy go to.'

‘Oh, I shall feel just like Joan Collins,' Tink cried. ‘Here, open this one.' She passed Caro a rectangular parcel. Caro unwrapped it to find the latest Valentina Black novel.

‘Oh, how marvellous! This has had rave reviews.'

‘I had a sneak peek, I hope you don't mind,' admitted Tink.

Johnnie picked up
Love Under the Sun
, its cover was a photo of a glistening male body from the neck down, a red-taloned hand disappearing into its bathing trunks.

‘Good Lord, woman, you've given our daughter pornography!' he spluttered.

For the next half an hour, the floor gradually disappeared under a sea of wrapping paper. Benedict loved his cufflinks from Caro, Tink was over the moon with her Jo Malone candle set from Calypso, and Clementine was surprisingly touched by a beautiful set of Smythson's stationery Camilla had bought and wrapped up before going off travelling.