Winter Solstice (43 page)

She finished, and he was silent, and she wondered if, as usual, she had overdone it and made a fool of herself.

“Oh, Sam, you do what you want to do. That’s all that’s important.”

He said, “You’re the most hospitable, generous person I think I’ve ever met. But I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll ring the AA and see what’s happening on the roads. If they’re clear, men I’ll go back to Inverness and get out of your hair. I really have a hell of a lot of work to do. If they’re still impassable, then I’ll accept, with much gratitude, your invitation.”

“Oh, good. I’ll pray for blizzards. Do my snow dance.”

“What will Oscar say?”

“He’ll say, “Splendid,” and go and read his newspaper.”

Sam pushed back the cuff of Oscar’s sweater and looked at his beautiful Rolex watch. He said, “It’s nearly nine o’clock. If you don’t mind, I shall go now, to incarcerate myself in my bedroom with my mobile phone, and start making calls.”

“Why don’t you do that? But first have another cup of coffee.”

Carrie was the next to appear.

“Where is everyone? I thought I heard voices.”

“You did. It was Sam. But he’s gone back to his room to do telephoning.”

“There’s still the most dreadful lot of snow.” Carrie poured coffee and put another bit of bread in the toaster. She took a rasher of bacon and ate it with her fingers. Then she sat down and saw the old envelope, with the start of Elfrida’s shopping list.

“What’s this? Bacon and tangerines. We are going to have an orgy.” …

“I was trying to start in on Christmas. I simply must pull myself together and try to make a plan or two. I’ve been procrastinating, and now we’ve only got four days.”

“Why don’t you let me take over? I’m a professional organizer, and there’s nothing I like more than making lists. Where can I go and do a mammoth shop?”

“There’s a supermarket across the bridge, at Kingsferry. You’d have passed it on your way here from the airport. It’s called Price Rite. The only thing is, I’m not sure if you’ll get there in this snow. It depends whether the road’s been cleared. But when Sam’s spoken to the AA, we’ll know.”

“Price Rite sounds hopeful.”

“You can buy everything, from dog biscuits to rose manure. I’ve only been there once, because, just being the two of us, we didn’t seem to need an enormous amount of food. But we do now.”

“Is Sam going back to Inverness?”

“Depend. If he’s marooned, then I’ve asked him to stay. Over the festive season, as they say.”

Carrie’s face showed no expression. She simply said, “In that case we’ll be five in the house …” and drew the envelope towards her, picked up the pencil, and started in.

“Now. Are we going to have a Christmas feast?”

“Yes. I suppose. Christmas-day lunch? Or dinner?”

“Oh, dinner, much more festive.”

“We’ll never get a turkey into that little oven.”

“Then we’ll have chickens. Two chickens.”

Carrie wrote furiously. Chickens. Brussel sprouts. Potatoes. Cloves for bread sauce. Frozen peas. Carrots. Masses of fruit. Butter. French bread. Cranberry sauce. Cinnamon sticks… “And the wine?”

“Oscar will want to deal with the wine.”

“Smoked salmon?”

“My favorite.”

“And … nuts and stuff. Mince pies?”

“Could you buy them? I’m useless at pastry. We can cheat, and soak them in brandy. Christmas cake. I’ll make the cake. Christmas pudding.”

“Should we have a cold ham? Terribly useful for Boxing Day and sandwiches.”

“Brilliant. And a big pot of soup. I’ll make it.” For once, Elfrida felt competent and efficient. Soup was her speciality. Chicken stock and any handy vegetables. She called it garbage broth.

“And perhaps crisps and dips in case we decide to have a party.”

“A party?”

“Shouldn’t we?”

“Who would we ask?”

“Well…” Elfrida considered the options, which were not many.

“The Kennedy family. And the doctor and his wife. And the nice bookshop man and his wife. They were at the Manse yesterday, and he and Oscar got on like a house on fire….”

Oscar, on cue, came through the door.

“With whom did I get on like a house on fire?”

“The bookshop man.”

“He’s called Rutley. Stephen Rutley. And his wife is Anne.”

“How clever you are to remember. Oscar, we are going to have a little party. So we shall ask them.”

“When shall we have a little party?”

Carrie and Elfrida looked at each other, because this had not been decided. Then Carrie said, “Saturday. Saturday night is party night.”

“The day before Christmas Eve.”

Oscar said, “I shall have to buy some drink.”

“If the bridge is open, Carrie’s going to Price Rite in Kingsferry to do all the shopping. Perhaps you could go with her.”

“Yes, perhaps I could. Elfrida, somebody seems to have finished the bacon.”

“Oh, Oscar, I’m sorry. That was me,” Carrie admitted.

“I ate the last bit. I’ll fry you some more.”

“There isn’t any more,” Elfrida told her. But it didn’t matter, because there were sausages in the | fridge and Carrie cooked those instead, and then Lucy appeared and Elfrida left them at it and went upstairs, feeling J much happier now that a few plans had already been made and she was spared the ordeal of an hour or more spent in Price Rite pushing a trolley down the crowded Christmas aisles and searching hopelessly for the ground coffee.

In her bedroom, she did a little desultory tidying up, making the bed and spreading upon it her red siik shawl. She folded clothes and put them away and then sorted out the contents of the linen basket in the hope of doing a wash and hanging it out on the line to dry. Which, perhaps, she could, because out of doors the sun was creeping up into a clear sky, and all the snow sparkled where the light touched it, and shadows were a wonderful smoky-blue. Below, in the street, the morning was on its way. The first of the shopping ladies; slow-moving cars; a man at the wheel of a van, sitting, parked, and eating a restorative ham roll. A girl came out of the bakery with a broom and started brushing the pavement She wore her overall and a stout pair of rubber boots. Overhead, the seagulls wheeled, and perched on the weather-vane of the church, preening their feathers in the fine morning.

She tore herself away from the lovely sight, gathered up the laundry, and dumped it on the bathroom floor. Later, she would take it downstairs. She went into the sitting-room, still dim and shrouded from last night, drew back the curtains, and the low sun flooded in and filled all with light. The detritus of the previous evening stood about. Empty glasses, Oscar’s whisky bottle; cushions squashed, chairs in disarray. She collected glasses and tidied up a bit, and then knelt to deal with the remains of last night’s fire. Her most un favourite task, but one which had to be done each morning. Oscar always said to leave it for him to do, but his job was humping logs and it seemed a bit unfair to let him cope with a bucketful of ashes as well.

She was brushing the hearth when, from behind her, she heard Sam speak.

“Elfrida. I’ll do that.”

“Oh.” She turned and he was standing in the open door-I’; way. He closed the door behind him, and she abandoned the hearth-brush and stood up, dusting her hands on the seat of her tartan trousers.

“Don’t worry. I do it every morning. I’ll finish it later…. What’s the news?”

He looked rueful.

“I’m afraid you’ve got me for Christmas.”

“Wonderful.” She made no attempt to keep the satisfaction out of her voice. And then thought it might be tactful to be a bit sorry for him.

“Poor Sam. You’re stuck. You have no choice. Come and tell me.”

She went to the window-seat, and he came and sat beside her. Through the glass the thin sun felt almost warm.

“The roads are passable until the Cromarty Bridge, but the Black Isle is a no-go area, and Inverness is totally snowed up. No traffic in, no traffic out.”

“They must have had much more snow than us.”

“Yes. It seems they did.”

“Carrie and Oscar are planning a huge shopping expedition to Price Rite That’s across our bridge. Do you think they’ll be able to make it?”

“They’ll make it that far, no problem. The snow ploughs have been out. It’s just farther south that the trouble starts.”

“Have you telephoned your hotel?”

“Yes, I’ve done that. And to my chairman, David Swinfield, in London. And I’ve spoken to Janey as well….”

“Janey … ?” Elfrida frowned, having already forgotten who Janey was.

“Janey Philip. I told you. Neil’s wife.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Sorry. The one who used to work for Boothby’s.”

“That’s right. She was most helpful. She went off and found one of the current Boothby catalogues and did a bit of research. And there’s a Boothby’s local representative for this part of the world. He lives at Kingsferry House, and he’s called Sir James Erskine Earle “Heavens.” Elfrida was much impressed.

“How frightfully grand.”

“She gave me his phone number as well, but I haven’t rung him yet. I thought I’d better have a word with you first Just be sure that you really do want to sell your picture … or at least have it appraised.”

“I’ve barely mentioned it to Oscar.”

“Do you want to talk it over with Oscar?”

Elfrida thought about this, and then said, “No, because he might try to persuade me not to.”

“An appraisal doesn’t mean you have to sell. And, whatever, you really should insure it.”

“I don’t suppose I’d be able to afford the premiums.”

“So what do you say? Shall I give him a ring?”

“Yes. Do that. See what he says.”

He left her, and Elfrida stayed where she was, gazing across the room to where her little treasure hung, lonely in the middle of a large empty expanse of wall. It had been part of her life for so long … the old couple sitting at the table with their family Bible; he so sombrely attired, she proud in her red dress and her daffodil-yellow silk shawl. Their faces watchful, wise, and kind. Their stillness emanating a certain dignity, a repose. They had been comforting companions for a number of years and seen her through a number of distraught and desolate days. She was very fond of them.

But they were not as important as Oscar.

Five minutes later, Sam was back, looking pleased with himself.

“All fixed.” He settled himself beside her once more.

“You spoke to him? Sir James Erskine Earle “Yes. No trouble. He answered the phone himself. And he’s coming over to Creagan this afternoon. It’s to do with the War Memorial; he’s on some committee or other. He’s going to drop in about four o’clock and cast his eye over your painting. He sounded rather interested.”

“Oh, Sam.” All at once, Elfrida felt a bit nervous.

“I’m not sure if I can wait that long.”

“You’ll have to.”

“We’ll give him a cup of tea. I’ll buy some scones. Did he sound nice?”

“Perfectly amenable.”

“It… it’s rather exciting, isn’t it?”

“It could be.”

“Shall I tell Oscar?”

“I would, if I were you. You don’t want to start feeling underhanded.”

“No. You’re quite right. Thank you, Sam, for your trouble.”

“My pleasure. The least I can do. Now, you said Carrie and Oscar were going over to Kingsferry to shop. Instead, why don’t I take her, and then I can help loading trolleys and carting everything home?”

Elfrida thought this a marvelous idea, and for more reasons than one.

“Brilliant. How kind you are. Oscar will be delighted. He loathes shopping.”

“I have ulterior motives.” (Better and better.) “Because I must buy clothes. I can’t go round looking like a tailor’s dummy for the next five days. Do you think Kingsferry would rise to a Gent’s Outfitters? And a chemist, because I haven’t got any toothpaste.”

Elfrida said brightly, “Of course,” but felt slightly let down because she had hoped his ulterior motive was getting Carrie to himself.

“And I should like to buy some wine for Oscar … perhaps I should have a word with him before I go.”

“That would be a good idea. About wine, Oscar has strong opinions.”

“And rightly so.”

Outside, in the brightening morning, the seagulls clamoured, perched on the ridge of the high roof, floating and circling around the tower, relishing the clear air. Elfrida turned her head to watch them. She said, “In one way, I should like you to have this house. It has such dignity and solidity, just right for the important head of a company.” She looked at him sitting there in Oscar’s blue sweater, and it already felt as though he had been with them all forever.

“It’s strange, isn’t it, the way things happen? You with your key, and then the snow tumbling down. And here we all are. And it is very satisfactory having young and competent people around us again. Carrie organizing everything, and you making decisions that I never could. I’ve always been useless at decisions. I’ve always worked on impulse, and some have been disastrous. Oscar and I have been two old things for too long. Mrs. Snead said visitors would cheer us up, but it’s more than that. And I know that without actually talking about it we’ve both been dreading Christmas. Under the circumstances, I felt it could be nothing but a bitter and sad time. But now, with you and Lucy and Carrie with us, it can’t be as emotive as we had feared.” She thought about this, and then smiled.

“Whatever, there’s nothing we can do to stop it happening. So we might as well make it fun. Perhaps it will be like one of those parties one longs not to have to go to; and then it turns out to be one of the most memorable and the best. Do you know what I mean?” Sam said he knew exactly what she meant.

Half past ten in the morning, and everyone was occupied.

Sam and Carrie had departed in Sam’s impressive Discovery for Kingsferry and Price Rite Before they could go, however, a certain amount of physical labour had been necessary, and Sam had found a shovel in Oscar’s shed and cleared the snow from the path that led from front door to gate, and then a broom, with which he had brushed piled snow from his car. And had squirted anti-freeze on his windscreen. Finally Carrie joined him, and they set off on their expedition together, armed with a list that went on forever, and which had taken a great deal of time and communal thought to compose. Carrie wore her loden coat and her black fur hat, and Sam was buttoned up into a handsome navyblue overcoat that made him look very successful, which he probably was. Driving away, they left an opulent impression.