A Proper Family Christmas (20 page)

…But what was that? - Oh no! One person had inevitably been left behind.

“Where
is
everybody? …I say! Hello? …Where on earth have you all got to?”

William and Scratch slipped back into the pantry until Leo had varnished upstairs.

CHAPTER 13

Frances could hardly believe her luck. Here she was, being whisked off to Cirencester after all, seated like a movie star in the back of Oliver's posh car, with Daniel beside her! The winter sunshine had struggled through the mist now, bathing the fields and stone walls and silhouetted trees in a magical golden glow. What a contrast from her drive through this same countryside with the Shirburns yesterday! She felt like Posy, wanting to bounce up and down with delight.

“Does anyone know the way?” enquired Oliver. “I take it I start by going back to the village. What happens after that?

“Haven't a clue, mate,” said Daniel cheerfully. “Just about made it here from London, - but I think Cirencester's in the other direction.”

“Oh dear, we did go once, but Ben was driving and I didn't take much notice.”

“There's a signpost,” Frances pointed ahead. Oliver drew up at the little crossroads and they scanned each arm in vain. “…We could go to Ready Token instead.”

“Or Ampney Crucis,” said Hilary.

“Sounds painful!” Daniel made a face. “I fancy Meysey Hampton.”

“Nice girl,” Oliver grinned. “I'll try Barnsley. If we end up in Yorkshire, I can always find the M1 and come back.”

Hilary was beginning to feel that, in this company, she wouldn't greatly mind if they never found Cirencester and were destined to meander round these pretty Cotswold lanes for ever. Any awkwardness there might have been if she and Oliver had been alone in the car was dispelled by Daniel's light-hearted presence, and she liked his friend, the gently humorous Frances. …How different from that awful journey with Leo last night! She'd always loved this part of the world, and Oliver pointed out things she'd never noticed before, - the grassy hump of a prehistoric tumulus in a neighbouring field, an ancient boundary marching across the landscape, its ragged hedge made up of a dozen different kinds of shrub, a weathered milestone almost buried in the verge. “This must have been a turnpike-road. Did you see that little toll-house at the crossroads? …And I think that lane could be Roman.” He pointed to a track bordered by tall trees, which continued the line ahead when their own road swerved away. “Not just because it runs straight, - you can get that with later Enclosure roads, - but those old oaks must have taken centuries to grow. Pity about the mud! It would probably lead us to Cirencester.”

“Well we're on the right road now,” said Daniel a few moments later. “That's Stephen's car in front.”

“Oh no!” Frances sank down in her seat a little.

“You're quite safe,” he grinned. “Stephen doesn't make a habit of using his mirror, from what I remember. …Anyway, what's the problem? They didn't forbid you to come to Cirencester, - they just didn't want you to come with
them
!”

Nevertheless Frances was relieved when they watched the Shirburns turn into one car park, and Oliver deliberately drove on to the next.

“No sense in following at their heels. …Good lord, what a fabulous church!” he exclaimed, suddenly spotting it towering over the neighbouring houses as they drew up. “We must take a look at that.”

They headed in that direction at a leisurely pace, pausing to examine the shops or gaze up at the picturesque buildings they passed. With everything decorated for Christmas, the old town had a quaintly Dickensian feel, - all it needed was snow and a horse-drawn carriage or two.

“I'm going to buy myself one of those shawls!” declared Hilary, pointing to a tempting display in one of the windows. “Come on, Frances. - They've got bags as well.”

Oliver stayed outside with Daniel, taking photographs of the old building opposite. Frances bought a scarf for her mother, and then spotted some shirts with silly slogans on she knew the boys would love. …Dare she get a present for Daniel? No, of course not, - good heavens, she'd only known him a day, - but she bought an extra shirt anyway.

“Gosh, this is fun!” said Hilary, as they pressed each other into buying embroidered purses. “It's years since I've had a really girlie time! …That skirt would be lovely on you. Why don't you try it on?”

“Oh right!” said Daniel, eyeing the bags as they emerged. “Like you only went in for a shawl?”

The church was even more impressive at close quarters, flanked by a massive porch flamboyant with traceried carving. “You'd take it for a cathedral, if you didn't know better,” said Hilary. “To be honest, it reminds me of parts of Haseley.”

“Me too,” grinned Oliver. “In fact I think I'll use a photo of the stonework to illustrate possible influences. …Let's look inside.”

“Actually,” said Frances, “do you mind if I stay here? I want to make a phone-call, and you can't get a signal at Haseley.”

“I'll wait here too,” said Daniel. “Monuments and stuff aren't really my thing.”

Hilary might have said the same, but it would seem unkind to let Oliver go on his own. She followed him into the dark passage that led inside, prepared to be a bit bored.

“Nice fan-vaulting,” he pointed upwards. “I think you go through this little door here. …Wow!”

It was indeed spectacular. They found themselves facing an arcade of delicate pillars, reaching up and up to a roof they seemed barely strong enough to support. In the dappled light from the stained glass windows, they gave the impression of a silent forest of tall saplings, turned to stone by some ancient spell. The echo of footfalls and hushed voices seemed out of all proportion to the small number of people in the building, making one imagine that they must be underlain with other voices and other footsteps, layers from older times. Hilary shivered, momentarily overwhelmed by such unnerving venerability.

But Oliver was totally unfazed. He darted about delightedly between tombs and brasses and carved pews, stooping to examine the painted tiles on the floor, or draw her attention to a fine old chest or a quaintly worded memorial. “What an exceptionally fine pulpit! Good heavens, I believe that's a sermon timer! Do you think they still use it? …Come and see this cup! It belonged to Anne Boleyn.” Oliver had the gift of making everything interesting, because he was interested in everything, and Hilary found she was enjoying herself.

Meanwhile it was a very different telephone conversation to the one Frances would have been having if she'd managed to get through last night, with Daniel standing tactfully out of earshot, if not out of smiling distance. …Yes, she was having a lovely time! There were a lot more people staying than the Shirburns had been expecting, but they were mostly very nice, - particularly a lady called Hilary, and her son, Daniel. …Frances tried to keep her voice impersonal, but her mother knew her too well.

“Yes, I do mean
that
sort of nice, but I can't talk now. …We're in Cirencester. It's really pretty, and it's got some lovely shops. …No, not the Shirburns, - I'm here with Daniel, as a matter of fact.”

He came over when he saw that she'd finished. “Everything okay? It must be tough, not being with your Mum and Dad at Christmas.”

“Just Mum. My father died three years ago.”

“Bloody hell, - so did mine!”

“Oh!” They stared at one other, stunned by the coincidence. …Of course she'd known Daniel's mother was a widow, but somehow she hadn't connected it with Daniel losing his father, - just as she'd lost her own. “Pants, isn't it?”

“Sure is. Made me the warped little individual I am. …Actually it probably is what made me want to be a doctor,” Daniel observed more seriously, “ - trying to cure people because I couldn't save him, kind of thing. Not that anyone could have done much for a brain haemorrhage.”

“And I suppose that's why I've ended up as a nanny.” Frances told him about missing out on Art College, then wondered if it seemed like showing off. “…Though I probably wouldn't have been any good.”

“Why not? Of course you would!”

They could see Hilary and Oliver coming out of the church now, laughing at something. It made her look younger and more carefree, and it occurred to Frances that she was really rather pretty.

“The worst thing about Dad dying,” said Daniel, lowering his voice a little, “is the effect it had on Mum. I ranted and raged and dealt with it, but she sort of retreated into herself. …It wasn't that she didn't talk to anyone, or cried all the time, - in some ways that would have been better. She just - stopped enjoying things, I guess. It's ages since I've seen her really laugh like that.”

“The church was good. You should have come. …Where are we heading now?”

“Down here, to look at this wonderful row of old houses, - 16
^th
century, surely.” The other three grinned at each other. Oliver was nothing if not decisive.

“All right, mate. Don't get run over,” pleaded Daniel, but he'd already taken his photo, with a charming smile to the van driver who'd been too startled to hoot. “The man's a liability! Why are we going round with him?”

“I can't think,” said Hilary happily. She'd caught the affection in Daniel's tone.

Enjoying Oliver's enthusiasm, and content to follow in his wake, they wandered after him down the lane, until he suddenly stopped in front of a stone archway.

“Oh! Do you mind if we…?”

“No, Oliver, we can't go in there!” Hilary had seen poor Frances flinch.

“Shirburn Alert,” Daniel reminded him. “You are entering a potentially contaminated zone.”

His face fell. “Oh yes, of course. They were going to the museum, weren't they? And I suppose we'd be bound to bump into them, - even if we just popped in for a moment.”

“It's not really fair on Frances…” said Hilary, torn by his looking as if a toy had been snatched away.

“That's all right. You go in,” she responded at once.

“Oh come on, live dangerously!” Daniel grinned at her. “We'll hide you behind an urn or something if they are still about, but I bet old Tobias was carried out kicking and screaming ages ago.”

Even Frances had to admit that the museum was fascinating. After a while she forgot to look for the Shirburns round every corner, and became enthralled by the various displays. Daniel found her gazing wistfully into a case holding an intricately-patterned gold pendant that would have formed part of a Saxon woman's dowry.

“It's so beautiful! …I'm not sure it wouldn't have been worth living in one of those miserable dug-out huts and having to weave all your own clothes, just to wear something like this every day.”

Daniel insisted on having his photograph taken wearing a suit of Roman chain-mail meant for kids. Oliver found he was too big for it, and Daniel said that he ought to use his status as a top academic to complain to the Museum authorities.

It was the mosaics that entranced Hilary. “You'd swear they were painted! How could they possibly get such detail with bits of flower-pot and pebbles?”

“I'll pop in here and buy a post-card, I think,” said Daniel as they passed the gift-shop on the way out. “Don't wait.”

“Wouldn't mind a look at the books,” said Oliver. “They might have one on mosaics, Hilary…”

Frances picked up some tourist leaflets from the desk and was soon engrossed in the delights of Bourton-on-the-Water and Arlington Row. …There were some brilliant places in the Cotswolds! It would be nice to come back, in the summer perhaps, and explore them with someone who had a car, and who'd enjoy going round the Wild Life Park as much as she would.

She was only vaguely aware of people coming out of the door that led to the toilets on the other side of the foyer, - until she heard a piercing little voice.

“I thought you said that Nanny Frances wasn't coming to the Museum! …Yes, she is. - She's sitting over there.”

It was too late to hide. Lesley was looking in her direction with a mixture of surprise and disapproval. Stephen emerged at the same moment, and saw her pointing. Frances stood up to face the music, wishing they hadn't happened to catch her on her own.

“Oh dear, Nanny! I thought we made it clear we weren't expecting you to join us.”

“No, - I wasn't,” she hastened to explain. “I didn't realise… I thought you'd gone.”

“You haven't come to find us?” Stephen was puzzled. “Then what are you doing here?”

“The Britwells brought her with their nanny, I imagine.”

“Oh no, - I came with Daniel.”

As soon as she'd said it, she realised her mistake.

“Oh
did
you indeed?”

“…And his mother, and Mr. Leafield.” It was too late. Lesley wasn't listening. …Oh hell, where were the others? For a moment Frances wondered if they weren't deliberately hiding.

“Well since you
have
turned up, Nanny, you might oblige us by minding Tobias, - if it wouldn't be too much trouble. Stephen and I have a piece of rather important shopping to do.”

“Ah! Yes, indeed.” Her husband responded to her meaning look.

“I'm coming with you…”

“No, this is grown up shopping. You stay with Nanny.”

“I don't wa-ant to!” Tobias followed them through the glass door and out into the street.

Frances grabbed his hand. “Perhaps it's to do with Christmas presents,” she suggested. “They always have to be kept secret, don't they?”

“Yes, well, - we won't be long.” Lesley and Stephen hurried away, and disappeared into a shop at the other end of the road.

Frances acquitted the others of hiding, as soon as she saw their expressions of horror when they came out to find Tobias sitting beside her. She couldn't help grinning.