The Willows at Christmas (9 page)

“Why, I was there myself for dinner when she summoned the Cook and, having berated her in public, dismissed her before Toad could say anything! One year, she turned Toad out of his bedroom, complaining of the cold in her own, and to my certain knowledge when her friends come a-visiting — which they do at Toad’s expense — she banishes him to his old nursery, saying to his face that he is not her social equal and she does not wish to be let down my him.”

“Good heavens!” exclaimed the Mole.

“In short, she is rude, grasping, importunate, snobbish, unkind, ungrateful and a bully, and has poor Toad in her thrall. He has become so ashamed of her treatment of him over the years, and of her rudeness to his friends, that five years ago he begged us never to mention her name or her existence.”

“Yes, he sat in this very room, Mole, and he wept openly,” said the Rat. “He told us that he is powerless to prevent her coming, and unable to stop her behaving as she does. She has now ruined his Christmas for many years and were it not for the loyalty and devotion of his housekeeper Miss Bugle he would long since have departed this life over Christmastide out of sheer misery and exhaustion.”

“But this is outrageous!” cried the Mole, rising. “And to think this lady is not even a relative! Something must be done!”

“Do you not think that we agree with you?” said the Badger. “We have racked our brains over the matter and can find no solution that is not criminal and might lead us to the dock. We have honoured our promise to Toad not to mention these matters to others. Yet the fact is that she has ruined not only Toad’s Christmas but the Village’s as well, for she adamantly refuses to allow him to purchase any seasonal supplies or offer charity in that quarter.

“One year, when he attempted to give money to the Village to make up for this loss of custom, the weasels reported him to her. She told Groat and Groat warned Toad not to do such a foolhardy thing again. ‘Charity ends at home’ were the words he used, if I remember aright.

“Nanny Fowle has long since passed on, but a pattern has been set and every year Mrs Ffleshe comes to stay for the festive season, often bringing guests whom she wishes to impress, and inviting others to give the impression that she is mistress of Toad Hall.

“Such is Toad Hall’s sad festive history in recent years. You were quite right in what you said earlier — there
is
a malaise along the River Bank. The Hall was always the centre of things here and without it the heart has gone out of Christmas, and I believe in the Village as well.

“I confess that it is not helped by the fact that we —that is Ratty and I — are bachelors, and so have no family with whom to celebrate Christmas. We have fallen out of the habit of it. As for Otter here, though he has his son Portly, he does not advertise the fact that Portly’s mother departed this area for sunnier climes some time ago.

“I did not mean to pry,” said the Mole, much embarrassed by this revelation.

“It’s all right, old fellow,” said the Otter jovially, “there are plenty of others about who are only too happy to furnish the Otter household with mince pies and suchlike when Christmas comes. That’s why I tend to be otherwise engaged at this time of year — fending em of! As for Portly, he is spending this Christmas with his mother, which is another reason that I am not much inclined to celebrate: I miss him!”

“O my,” said the Mole who now began to see the complexity of the situation. “But at least Mrs Ffleshe’s power does not extend to Mole End!”

“Mercifully not. But we felt it best not to trouble you with these matters.”

“I thought it was because I had done something to offend you!”

“My dear Mole!” cried the Badger, clapping him on the shoulder. “I am sure I speak for the others as well when I say that your presence amongst us this last year has been a pleasure and a joy, and we would be gravely distressed if you ever thought otherwise. As for your invitation to spend a little time with you over the festive season I for one apologise for my earlier reluctance and if you’ll oblige me by asking me again I will accept unreservedly.”

“I will oblige, I will!” cried the Mole happily, looking at once to the other two.

“We’ll accept as well if you’ll have us!” said the Rat and the Otter together.

“I shall send you the invitations tomorrow without fail,” cried the Mole.

“Good, then that matter at least is settled” said the Badger. “Now, Mole, it is our tradition, though one that seems very pale when set against what used to happen, to visit Toad on Christmas morning, if only to remind him that he has friends in the outside world. Mrs Fleshe is invariably rude, and her guests likewise, and poor old Toad is barely allowed to speak to us. We rarely stay longer than a few minutes. After that we retire to one or other of our homes and have a little repast and then go our separate ways, for our spirit is not in it. Perhaps this year…”

“Why, this year you’ll come to Mole End and I’ll give you a welcome that will keep you with me rather longer than a few minutes!” said the Mole, almost dancing about with excitement and glee.

“We shall be very obliged to you, Mole. Eh, Ratty? Otter?”

They nodded their heads so vigorously, and showed such pleasure on their faces to see the Mole’s pleasure, that it seemed for a time that not only were the trials and tribulations of the day quite forgotten, but the bigger problem of Mrs Ffleshe was as nothing too.

Soon the excitement of the day and the lateness of the hour began to take their toll. First, a gentle snoring came from Otter’s chair and then the sound of slow breathing from Rat’s. Till at last, with a final sigh, Badger rose and retired to the solace of his bed.

Which left just Mole awake, staring at the dying fire and pulling his plaid tighter about his chin but feeling happier than he had for weeks as he planned his menus for the coming Christmas feast and remembered how long it was since he had been honoured to have such company for Christmas. Company he could not better, not better at all, except — except —”Except for Toad, for he should be there as well, and we
must
see about that’ said the Mole. His face hardened with new resolution and he added, “We shall find a way to reinstate the festive season along the River Bank. O hang it! Someone must do something and it seems that someone must be me!”

This much decided, the Mole closed his eyes and fell into sleep, though it was for a long time troubled and restless. But when dawn came the furrows on his brow began to smooth, and a slight smile came to his face, as if he were dreaming of joyous Christmases past, and all the possibilities of happy Yuletides yet to come.

V

Below Stairs

Just as the Mole was the last to go to sleep, so he was the first to awaken, and he did so with a jolt. It was as if a long-unheard but dearly remembered voice had spoken to him, saying, “Prepare in advance and you’ll enjoy your guests’ coming; prepare too late and you’ll be more glad to see their going?’

It was his sister’s voice he heard, she who had taught him this dictum, and so drilled it into him that he heard it now as if from her own mouth.

He rose stiffly from the depths of the Badger’s armchair and decided to complete his ablutions at home rather than disturb his sleeping friends. But he did not leave before he had quietly re-set and lit the fire, and hung a kettle over it, so that they might more easily enjoy a fresh pot of tea when they awoke.

Then, though he had to stand on a chair to reach the uppermost bolt on the Badger’s front door, he did so without making too much noise and was off with the rising sun.

When he crossed the Canal Bridge, and then walked back over the Iron Bridge, he saw that the River had calmed down a little, even though its colour was stained by mud and it seemed to have risen further still. He paused for a moment, thinking of all the many things he must do, and heard the unmistakable and ominous sound of the distant Weir.

“Things will get worse and more treacherous before they get better,” he said aloud, repeating a phrase that the Rat was fond of using when the River was in change.

But the bright winter sunshine cheered the Mole, as did his memory of the conversation at the Badger’s fireside the night before, and the ready affirmation by his friends that he was after all a part of their community. So much so that they had all been willing to change their habits and come to Mole End for a party on the morning of Christmas Day.

“Well, there is no point in waiting around here all day’ the Mole told himself, “there’s a lot of work to be done…

Back in the comforting surroundings of Mole End, Mole busied himself with plans for his party, filled with new hope. As always, he had a good supply of food already prepared and safely stored in his larder. It would be nothing more than a morning’s work to add the finishing touches, and that he would do tomorrow In the meantime, there were invitations to write, so he made a pot of tea and sat by his fire with a pen in his hand, enjoying this pleasant task.

He decided to deliver Toad’s invitation to Toad Hall that very day. At the same time, he would take along the chestnut and prune compote he had promised to Miss Bugle, and perhaps take the opportunity to ask her help and advice concerning Toad, which would surely be invaluable, if only she could be persuaded to give it.

Finally, when all was ready, the Mole put Toad’s invitation in his pocket and the gift for Miss Bugle in a bag and set forth once more for Toad Hall, feeling even more cheerful than before.

Not wishing to cause his friend Toad any unnecessary embarrassment, he took the liberty of knocking at the tradesman’s door he had used before. In this way, he also hoped that he would find Miss Bugle without having to engage with Mrs Fleshe or Toad.

He was extremely surprised, therefore, when the door was answered by none other than Toad himself, dressed in an apron and carrying a knife in one hand and a half-peeled potato in the other.

“Toad! Whatever are you doing?” said the Mole in blank astonishment.

Toad looked greatly relieved to see him and, grabbing him by his lapel, pulled him abruptly into the nearby pantry and shut the back door.

“Mole, O dear, dear Mole!” he cried in a piteous voice. “You should not be here, but now you are, now you are…

But Toad could say no more.

The knife fell from one hand and the potato from the other and he slumped at the Mole’s feet, weeping loudly and crying out, “I cannot stand it another moment. Mrs Fleshe has given Miss Bugle the morning off and made
me
work here in the kitchen in her place! I can’t return upstairs till I have peeled these twelve pounds of potatoes to her satisfaction. She is coming to inspect my work at noon and it is taking so long, so long…”

Toad’s tears got the better of him once more and he could only sit at the Mole’s feet and weep.

“But, Toad,” cried the concerned Mole, picking up the knife and half-peeled potato. “Are you not master of this establishment and able to decide who does the kitchen work?”

“I am, and yet I am not!” whispered Toad. “For fifty weeks of the year I am, and for two weeks I most definitely am not.”

“Why don’t we talk about it while I help you?” said the sensible and generous Mole, donning an apron that hung from a nearby hook and taking up a second kitchen knife. “After all, twelve pounds of potatoes is not much really. It will take no time at all.”