Last Christmas (31 page)

Cat sat down at the computer. She’d barely blogged for weeks now. She had so little time and energy for anything. She’d never been this behind for Christmas. Every time she thought about it a sick feeling entered her stomach, and she felt paralysed. Nothing was going to be ready on time, but for once she didn’t care. Dimly she was aware that Noel seemed to be taking it on himself to read through the Christmas lists and bring home bulging bags of goodies from Argos but, for the first time in her life, Cat couldn’t get at all enthusiastic about the festive season. She just wanted to curl up in a ball and hibernate till it was all over. She hadn’t even managed to rustle up any energy for decorating the Christmas tree, which was normally her greatest pleasure.

Normally, Cat would have found herself blogging amusingly about the varied exploits of her offspring at Christmas: how do you make a camel costume, anyone? But this year, she didn’t even have the heart for that. She was heartily sick of the Happy Homemaker. Seeing Mum in the home had made her realise she had to make some changes in her life. It might mean difficult times ahead for her and Noel financially, but they simply couldn’t carry on as they were.

I realise I’ve been a bad blogger of late, she began, but real
life has interfered in a way I could neither foresee or imagine. Some of you may have realised by now, but the Happy Homemaker blog is a façade. It’s a cover for my real life and, as I’m sure is the case for a lot of bloggers, it’s a carefully constructed edifice—a pretend version of my life, if you like. I hope I’m not going to disappoint any of my readers by saying this, as I’m grateful to you one and all, but I can’t keep the façade up any longer.

Put simply, my life isn’t perfect, it never was. I am a mum of four whose domestic life is usually chaotic. I started this blog to stop me going mad when my children were small, and then it ended up taking over my life. Recently, I felt, to the extent that I started forgetting my responsibilities, neglecting my family and in particular not supporting my husband. Events in my life right now have led me to rethink things. My mother has just been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s…

Cat paused, could she be this honest in her blog? She’d never given away a real thought or emotion before, but somehow the blog seemed to be writing itself. She poured out all her heartache and sadness about the change in her mother, about the way the loss of her mother had made her feel. It was cathartic and necessary. There were no doubt readers who were going to feel cheated about what she’d done, and Bev was going to hit the roof when Cat told her. But Cat didn’t care anymore. The Happy Homemaker had to go, and with her, Cat knew her days as features editor at
Happy Homes
were also numbered. She was going to hand in her notice and go freelance. From now on, her family came first.

‘Yes, shepherds, if you can dance about like you’re cold that will work very well.’ Marianne was directing her ten-year-old shepherds, chosen for their comic abilities, as they kept themselves warm waiting for the angels to arrive. She consulted
her script. ‘Right, then we’ll lead into “The Angel Gabriel From Heaven Came”, and the angels come in.’

The angels—three fair-haired girls and one brunette (chosen because Marianne felt sorry for her after overhearing her complain she never got to be an angel)—came forward and took their positions.

‘We bring glad tidings,’ the chief angel said, ‘of great joy to all mankind.’

This was going better than she’d expected. Marianne was really enjoying herself. The script that she’d adapted from the mystery play with a little help from Miss Woods (carefully ensconced on a chair in prime position as assistant director) was simple and clear, just as she’d hoped, and the children had all risen to the occasion beautifully. It was less than a week to go till the Nativity. She had a feeling that it was going to be a really special evening.

‘Is it too late for Stephen to take part?’ Gabriel poked his head around the door just then, looking nervous.

Resisting the urge to run up to him and throw her arms around him, Marianne welcomed them both into the room.

‘Stephen, would you like to sing for us?’ she said. She’d dropped “Balulalow” in favour of “Away in a Manger” for the crib scene, but she’d happily reinstate it if it meant Stephen singing.

‘I’ve been practising at home,’ said Stephen shyly.

‘Just sit there for now,’ said Marianne, ‘and we’ll get you to do your piece as soon as we get to the baby being born.’

The rehearsal went on and every fibre of her being was conscious of Gabriel at the back of the room, but she didn’t dare look over at him.

‘And so it came to pass that Mary gave birth to a son named Jesus,’ intoned the narrator, ‘and she wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger.’

Mary and Joseph (both chosen by virtue of being the
children of the only two sets of parents who
hadn’t
tried to bribe Marianne to give them the role) moved forwards and placed the baby in the crib.

‘Wonderful,’ said Marianne. ‘Now, Stephen, if you just come round to the front. Mr Edwards will give you a note.’

Mr Edwards, who was practising on the ancient piano in the Parish Centre instead of the wonderful organ in the Hopesay Manor chapel that he’d be playing on Christmas Eve, sounded a note. Stephen stepped forward, and began to sing.

‘But I sall praise thee evermoir, With sangis sweit unto thy gloir,’ Stephen sang and the whole place froze. You could have heard a pin drop as he reached the high notes.

Marianne sat back in delight. She’d been right to get Stephen to sing, she knew it.

‘And sing that last rycht Balulalow.’ Stephen finished off the last note, which lingered softly in the air.

The cast spontaneously burst into applause. Stephen shyly smiled, and Marianne looked across at Gabriel.

‘Thank you,’ she mouthed. Now she knew she had the perfect Nativity.

Gabriel waited at the end of the rehearsal for Marianne.

‘It’s going to be fantastic,’he said.‘You’ve done brilliantly.’

‘Thanks,’ said Marianne, ‘and I’m glad you brought Stephen. He’s going to bring the house down.’

‘I have to admit he had me going,’ said Gabriel. ‘You were right. Singing
is
good for him. I could see how much it’s brought him out of himself.’

‘I’m glad,’ said Marianne. ‘He has a rare talent, and it needs to be nurtured.’

There was a pause and Gabriel wondered how to fill it, before suddenly being unable to stop himself from saying: ‘So do you.’

‘So do I what?’ Marianne looked confused.

‘Have a rare talent. You’ve made such a difference to Hope Christmas.’ Gabriel paused and looked shyly down at his feet. ‘You’ve made such a difference to me.’

‘Oh,’ she said, looking stunned.

‘Pippa’s having mulled wine tonight, I believe,’ said Gabriel, looking up at her now, his brown eyes twinkling.

‘But what about Eve?’ said Marianne. ‘Aren’t you going with her?’

‘Marianne Moore, where have you been? The village hotline must have got the news out by now, surely?’

‘What news?’ Marianne was puzzled.

‘Eve’s gone back to London. She’s decided she couldn’t cope with Stephen and that it’s for the best.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Marianne. ‘I thought you’d be able to work things out.’

‘I’m not,’ said Gabriel. ‘Really, this is for the best. Stephen understands his mother is ill, and he knows we can’t be together now. Which means…’

He left the rest of the sentence hanging but the broad grin that lit up his face left Marianne in no doubt about his intentions.

‘You know you look so much better when you smile,’ said Marianne. ‘You don’t do that nearly enough.’

‘I haven’t had much to smile about recently,’ admitted Gabriel. ‘But since I found out Eve’s not suing for custody of Stephen, I haven’t been able to stop grinning.’

‘I bet,’ said Marianne. ‘And Stephen is really okay about this?’

‘Better than I thought he’d be,’ said Gabriel. ‘He was distraught at the thought of going to London, and I think he understands that Eve can’t look after him. Apparently all she ever gave him for tea when he was staying with her was cheese on toast. But she’s not going to leave him for
good like she did last time. In fact she’s coming for Christmas at Pippa’s. Weird, I know. But better all round for Stephen.’

‘I’m so glad,’ said Marianne. ‘Really I am.’

‘So what about Pippa’s and mulled wine then?’

‘Yes, right, great idea,’ said Marianne. She followed Gabriel and Stephen out of the Parish Centre, down the High Street and to the lane that led to Pippa’s house. Snow was gently falling as they entered the lane.

‘Magic!’ said Stephen and ran up the lane whooping in delight as he tried to catch snowflakes on his tongue.

Marianne linked her arm in Gabriel’s. It felt right and natural to have it there. He squeezed it tight.

The short walk to Pippa’s was all too brief, and before long Gabriel found himself separated from Marianne in a whirl of Christmas bonhomie. But he was always aware of her presence, following her round the room. Lighting up when he caught her eye.

Eventually they caught up by the mulled wine.

‘We must stop meeting like this,’ said Gabriel.

‘Must we?’ The mulled wine had made Marianne flirtatious, and he suddenly had a vivid remembrance of the first time they’d met.

‘Well, are you going to kiss her or what?’ Stephen appeared next to him with his arms firmly folded, looking very disapproving.

‘Um—’ Gabriel was totally thrown off his stride. ‘Are you saying you wouldn’t mind if Marianne and I were together?’

‘Duh,
nooo
, of course I wouldn’t,’ said Stephen. ‘Anyone can see you’re made for each other. Parents. What are they like?’

Gabriel and Marianne laughed.

‘Look, Auntie Pippa even put some mistletoe up there specially for you,’ said Stephen. ‘Some people are so dense.’

‘Happy Christmas, Marianne,’ said Gabriel, and bent down and kissed her on the mouth. ‘I believe I owe you a drink.’

‘I do believe you do,’ said Marianne responding more enthusiastically than he would have dared imagine.

‘You’ve done what?’ Noel couldn’t believe his ears. Cat had just walked in and told him her news. ‘Why the hell didn’t you ask me about this?’

‘You never told me about your redundancy,’ Cat said reasonably enough. ‘I thought you’d be pleased. In the New Year you can get another job, and I’ll go freelance. It will be fine. You’ll see.’

‘I don’t know whether you’ve noticed,’ said Noel, ‘but the job offers aren’t exactly falling from the trees. Let’s face it, I’m a tired, washed-up has-been.’

‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Noel,’ said Cat. ‘Now you’re just feeling sorry for yourself.’

Noel couldn’t respond to that because part of him knew it was true. But how could she have handed her notice in without consulting him? It made the Christmas hotel a luxury they could barely afford, let alone the presents he’d bought in a fit of generosity, figuring that he wouldn’t have a redundancy package every year and, while Cat was still working, it wouldn’t matter if he blew a little of it.

‘And why shouldn’t I feel sorry for myself ?’ Noel spat out. ‘I’ve sat here at your beck and call for the last few months feeling like a stranger in my own home. You barely acknowledge me, the kids probably wouldn’t care if I was here or not. What is the bloody point of me existing? I barely know anymore.’

‘Noel.’ Cat looked shocked.

‘Daddy, the shelf has fallen down in the family room again.’ Ruby bounced in exuberantly. ‘Can you mend it?’

‘No, I bloody well can’t,’ said Noel. ‘Let your mother mend it. See how well she can do it.’

Ruby burst into tears.

‘Noel!’ said Cat. ‘That was so unkind.’

Appalled at what he’d done, Noel got up and, without a word, picked up his coat and left the house. It was cold out and the wind whipped through him as he walked and walked through the sleet-ridden streets of London, through busy roads bustling with commuters going home to their loved ones, and Christmas revellers sharing the festive spirit. He barely knew where he was going. Only that he had to get away.

Almost without knowing how he’d got there, he found himself on a bus heading into town. His mobile rang. He ignored it. It rang again. So he switched it off. Eventually the bus stopped, and he got off, for a moment unsure of his surroundings. Then he walked for a while until he found himself by Waterloo Bridge. It was brightly lit and on the far side of the river he could see the glow of the National Theatre proclaiming something by Chekhov showing, while below twinkling blue lights gave the trees on the South Bank a festive glow, and the slow ponderous movements of the Millenium Wheel shone out against a dark wintry skyline.

People flitted from one side to the other, full of Christmas cheer, ready to spend a night on the town or go back home to their loved ones. Noel was filled with an overwhelming sense of hatred for them, but it was coupled with a self- loathing he couldn’t escape. How could he have been so cruel to Ruby? And to Cat for that matter. She’d been through such a lot lately. Maybe she was right. Perhaps she should be at home more, but how could they manage on her freelance salary and without any income from him? She’d be better off if he were dead. At least the insurance would pay for the house.

He walked over to the side of the bridge. And looked down into the dark whirling waters below. They looked somehow inviting. He’d never contemplated ending it all before, but he’d never been this miserable either.

Cat would be better off without him. Noel had nothing to offer her or the children anymore. He stared into the darkness below. It seemed to call to him. To tease him. To welcome him home.

‘Well, go on, if you’re going to,’ a slightly testy voice came from behind him. ‘It’s a cold night and I’m not as young as I was. So go on. Do it.’

‘Do what?’ Noel turned round as the wind whipped his face and stared bemusedly into the twinkling eyes of Ralph Nicholas. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

‘First things first,’ said Ralph. ‘I take it you
were
planning to jump off the bridge, weren’t you? So what’s stopping you?’

Noel paused. What was stopping him? A minute ago it had seemed like the answer to his prayers. The temptation to end it all had been enormous. But suddenly a picture of Cat swam before his eyes. And a vision of her dressed in black surrounded by the children. Financially she’d be better off without him, but would she
actually
be better off ? Wasn’t the act he was contemplating supremely selfish?

‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Ralph. ‘Never seen the point of suicide. So unkind to the people left behind. I always make a point of trying to stop them.’

‘What do you mean, you always try and stop them?’ Noel was reeling, trying to make sense of this.

‘Let’s just say it’s part of my job description,’ said Ralph. ‘Besides, you can’t go topping yourself. Not when I have a job to offer you.’

‘What job?’

‘Well, I was rather hoping that you’d have the sense to ring me up yourself. I’ve been waiting for you to, you know. But since the mountain wouldn’t come to Mohammed…’

‘Right,’ said Noel, sheepishly. ‘But how did you know I’d be here?’

‘It’s my business to know that kind of thing,’ said Ralph, which was about as clear as mud. ‘Now, chop chop, I’ve a few things to show you before you go home.’

Noel found himself following Ralph through the London streets in a daze. For an old man he moved remarkably quickly. Suddenly they were on the Embankment.

‘Fancy spending Christmas like them?’ he said quietly, pointing to the tramps camped outside Embankment Station.

‘No,’ said Noel, feeling ashamed of his earlier outburst. How could he feel he had nothing when these people had so little? Normally he walked past the tramps in the street, but now he went up and offered one his coat. Weirdly, he didn’t feel cold. In fact, he felt warmer than he’d ever felt in his life.

‘Better,’ said Ralph approvingly. He led Noel away from the streets into the cloistered seclusion of the Middle Temple, and towards the Temple Church. Noel had been here once before. It was a haven, a sanctuary not far from the hustle and bustle of the London streets. ‘Now, shall we go in?’

Noel walked into the back of the church feeling awkward.

‘I know, I know, you only come into these places about once a year,’ said Ralph. He nodded at the crucifix high above the altar. ‘Do you think He minds about stuff like that? Blessed are the pure in heart, theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. That’s what it’s all about.’

Noel sank into a pew and stared ahead of him. Candles had been lit and a boys’ choir was practising for a carol service. The sound brought tears to his eyes.

‘Remind you of anything?’ said Ralph.

‘When I was a boy, I sang in a choir just like that,’ said Noel. He’d forgotten the simplicity and the joy of standing in the choir, belting his heart out. Once his voice had broken, he’d given up.

‘See the one on the left?’ Noel looked where Ralph was pointing, at a ten-year-old boy who was struggling to sing through his emotions. ‘His father died last Christmas. Do you want your son to be feeling like that next Christmas?’

‘No,’ whispered Noel quietly.

‘And see that old woman in the corner?’

Noel looked and saw a bag lady, rocking back and forth against her shopping trolley, muttering to herself slightly madly.

‘She used to have a family. Once,’ said Ralph. ‘But she lost them one by one, and then, eventually, she lost her wits. And now here she is. Every Christmas she comes here because she remembers the carols from her youth. The clergy here give her something to eat, but though they try to set her up in a hostel, she’ll never stay. It seems she’s forever fated to wander the streets of London.’

Noel looked at the woman, who couldn’t have been much older then he was, but her lined face belied her years, and her unkempt appearance betrayed her suffering. Whatever he’d struggled with, was nothing compared to what this poor woman had gone through.

‘Still feeling sorry for yourself, are you?’ Ralph looked at him kindly. ‘Everyone loses their way sometimes. It’s whether you can find it again that counts.’

Noel looked back up at the choir.

‘I think I want to go home,’ he said.

‘Excellent idea,’ said Ralph. ‘I have a feeling your wife might have some very good news for you.’

Gabriel put Stephen to bed and read him a story. It had been a long time since they’d shared a moment like this. Stephen had spent the whole time Eve had been there withdrawing into himself, and somehow they’d got out of the habit of spending time like this together.

‘So you’re sure you don’t mind about Marianne?’ he said.

‘She’s really nice,’ said Stephen, looking suddenly shy, ‘and, I know this sounds awful, but I have more fun with her than I do with Mummy.’

‘You do understand how ill Mummy is, don’t you?’ Gabriel said with a sigh. ‘She loves you, but she can’t look after you the way she’d like, or the way you need.’

‘I know,’ said Stephen, ‘but it doesn’t matter, because you can do it for her.’

Gabriel kissed his son and went downstairs, where Marianne was waiting for him.

He took her in his arms and kissed her with a long deep sigh of contentment.

‘I can’t tell you how long I’ve been wanting to do that,’ he said.

‘Nearly as long as I have,’ said Marianne, with a smile.

‘You realise that we’ll have to take things slowly, though, don’t you?’ said Gabriel, ‘for Stephen’s sake. And for mine.’

‘Gabriel North, we can take things as slowly as you like,’ said Marianne, ‘After all, we’ve got the rest of our lives to get to know one another better.’

‘We have, haven’t we?’ said Gabriel. He put on a CD, and poured her out a glass of wine. ‘Come on, let’s dance.’

Marianne burst out laughing as the first words played while they danced slowly in front of the fire.

‘“Last Christmas”?’ she said. ‘I didn’t know you had a penchant for cheese.’

‘I’ve always had a soft spot for those Wham boys,’ said
Gabriel, pulling her to him. ‘But first things first. Do you have plans for Christmas?’

‘Well, I was going to my parents’, but they’ve decided to go on a last-minute skiing holiday, so I don’t actually have any.’

‘Good,’ said Gabriel, ‘because this year, I want to spend Christmas with someone special, and I’d really like it to be you.’

‘What about Eve?’ said Marianne.

‘She’s coming on Christmas Eve to see Stephen sing,’ said Gabriel, ‘and she’ll be there for lunch, but she’s not staying. You, on the other hand, I rather think are.’

‘I rather think I am,’ said Marianne, and fell into his arms.

Cat paced up and down the kitchen, wondering at what point she should call the police. Noel had been gone for hours. She’d dispatched the children to bed, even Mel, who had hovered about uncertainly, till Cat had made up some nonsense about Noel going out with one of his friends for a drink. She wondered whether she should go looking for him, but where to start? And she could hardly ask Regina to have the children in the middle of the night. There were limits to even the strongest of friendships.

This was like Christmas Day all over again. That time Noel had only gone AWOL for an hour. But she’d known how miserable he was. She’d had the feeling for months that he’d been suffering from some kind of depression, and she’d done nothing about it. She’d failed him. And now maybe she’d lost him.

‘No, you haven’t.’ The front door banged shut, she heard footsteps on the stairs and suddenly an old man was standing in her kitchen. There was something familiar about him. ‘I hope you don’t mind, the door was open, so I let myself in,’ he said.

‘Who are you?’ Cat was astonished by the appearance of this stranger in her kitchen.

‘My name’s Ralph Nicholas and I’m a friend of your husband’s,’said the man,‘and you most emphatically haven’t lost Noel. He’s on his way back now. By the way, I don’t think you’ve listened to your answerphone messages this evening. One of them is quite illuminating.’

Cat went to the phone and pressed playback.

‘Hi, Cat, this is Sophie here.’ Cat hadn’t heard anything from her agent for a while, she’d almost forgotten about the cookery book. ‘Great news. I’ve got a brilliant offer for you from Collins, they’re really keen to do a big number on you, and it looks like we might have a TV series to go with it.’

She named a figure that was staggeringly high—certainly enough to make up for the loss of income from handing in her notice. Cat sat down with a thump. She turned back to Ralph, suddenly realising where she’d seen him before. ‘Wait a minute, aren’t you—’ but she was addressing the empty air. ‘What on earth is going on?’ she said out loud.

Cat was still sitting there slightly bemused when Noel came back in.

‘Cat,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.’

‘No, I am,’ Cat ran to him. ‘I’ve been so wrapped up in myself I didn’t realise how unhappy you’ve been.’

‘I thought I’d lost you,’ said Noel, pulling her close.

‘I thought I’d lost you,’ said Cat.

‘Never,’ said Noel. ‘Remember that Bryan Ferry song? We should stick together, whatever it takes.’

‘I know,’ said Cat. ‘I know.’

They stood holding each other for a few moments, and then Cat suddenly said, ‘Oh, I nearly forgot, I’ve got some great news. My book’s been accepted.’

‘That’s fantastic,’ said Noel. ‘Ralph told me you had some good news.’

Cat pulled apart and said in puzzlement:

‘But that’s weird, he was here as well.’

‘Who?’ It was Noel’s turn to look bemused.

‘Your friend, he came ahead of you to tell me you were coming home,’ said Cat. Come to think of it, she didn’t remember him leaving.

‘That’s odd, he was with me for some of the way home and then I lost him,’ said Noel. ‘But it’s been an odd evening all round.’

‘Hasn’t it just?’ said Cat. She pulled back from Noel, frowning. ‘Where’s your coat?’

‘Uh, I gave it to a tramp,’ said Noel.

‘Wonders will never cease,’ said Cat.

‘Yeah, well, like I said, it’s been an odd evening,’ Noel paused, then said hesitantly, ‘Listen, Cat, you can say no to this, but I’ve been offered a job. The only drawback is that it’s up in Shropshire. I know, I know, you won’t want to leave your mum, but can we at least think about it? I’m sure we can find her a good home in Hope Christmas. And Ralph tells me there’s a lot more support for the elderly up there. In fact, one of his plans is to build a new community centre, where Alzheimer’s patients can go and spend time during the day. It would mean your mum might have some kind of life. So what do you think?’

‘Six months ago I’d have said go boil your head,’ said Cat. ‘But I’ve realised my priorities need to change. Besides, though the Marchmont is doing its best, it’s not good enough. So long as we can find Mum a better home in Hope Christmas, I’m up for it. The important thing is we’re all together. Nothing else matters.’

Marianne sat in the back of the candlelit chapel as the audience came quietly in. She’d had a flurry of excitement earlier in the day when she’d finally met Catherine Tinsall, aka the
Happy Homemaker. ‘Though not for much longer,’ Catherine had confessed. ‘I’ve handed in my notice and we’re thinking of relocating up here. My husband’s been offered a job by Ralph Nicholas renovating some old cottages.’

‘I know,’ said Marianne grinning. ‘The eco town wasn’t a popular option round here. Everyone’s been buzzing with the new plans.’

Catherine had looked a bit startled that everyone knew her business already,so Marianne added,‘Welcome to village life, you no longer have any privacy…’

Luke, it turned out, had been voted off the board once it came to light that he had yet to make a single sale in the eco town. The political tide was turning against the whole idea too and, from what Marianne had heard, he’d departed for sunnier climes in a hissy fit. No doubt he’d soon be selling luxury apartments in the Bahamas.

‘Good luck, my dear,’ a voice said behind her. She turned gladly to see Ralph Nicholas.

‘I don’t think I’ll need it if you’re here,’ she said, ‘you’ve brought me nothing but luck this year.’

‘All part of the remit,’ said Ralph, bowing his head before going to take a seat next to Miss Woods.

The chapel darkened and silence fell, and a little boy got up to sing of a mayden that was makeles. Marianne hadn’t been able to resist using Stephen for more than one song and, judging by the rapt atmosphere in the chapel, she knew she’d made the right choice.

The audience were suitably amused by the shepherds’ antics, and they sat in silence as the narrator told the ancient tale, and Mary and Joseph came to rest in the stable in Bethlehem as they had done on so many occasions in so many plays throughout history. But none in quite such a magical setting as this, thought Marianne. Stephen’s
rendition of ‘Balulalow’ predictably had the women in the audience sobbing into their hankies—even Diana Carew, Marianne was amused to note. Diana had only come along reluctantly at the last moment but, in the end, Marianne suspected, she couldn’t quite bring herself to stay away. The wise men, who in rehearsal had kept forgetting their lines, managed to be word-perfect and the whole thing ended with a rousing version of ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’.

‘That was magnificent, thank you so much.’ Catherine Tinsall was the first to congratulate her. She was joined by her husband and four children, the youngest of whom was swinging on her dad’s arm saying, ‘Can we go back to the hotel now, Daddy? I don’t want to miss Santa.’

Catherine laughed. ‘Be patient, Ruby,’ she said. ‘It’s hours till bedtime.’ She turned back to Marianne. ‘I’m so glad we chose you, even though I’m not working for the magazine anymore.’

‘Well done, my dear, well done.’ Diana Carew’s bosoms bore down on her.‘I’ve been saying for years that we needed some new blood to shake things up around here, but no one would listen.’