Twelve Days of Christmas (22 page)

I heard Jude climb the backstairs and walk along the passage, heading for his own wing, and apart from Merlin the kitchen was deserted when I fetched the hot water bottle.

Hoping Michael wouldn’t fall asleep in the bath, I went up to my own bed after washing up the mugs and saying good night to Merlin. Luckily the bathroom was now empty and, in fact, the whole house seemed quiet when I cautiously opened the door to the gallery a crack and listened: a brooding silence reigned.

I had a feeling it wouldn’t be quite so tranquil in the morning . . .

By now, I was at that stage beyond exhaustion where you’re looking at everything through thick glass, so I climbed into bed and picked up Gran’s latest journal, saying aloud, ‘
Please
let me have jumped to all the wrong conclusions so there’s no possibility I’m related to that objectionable man!’

Chapter 22
Outcomes

I woke very early, before it was light, and lay there for a little while thinking about poor Granny, for whom the outcome I had feared seemed to have come about. She didn’t marry Ned Martland in the end, but I don’t know if this was because he abandoned her (which looks horribly likely) or because he was killed before it could happen.

And here I was, landed in the middle of a Christmas house-party (the very thing I had tried to avoid), for the family of the man who seduced poor Gran – it’s bizarre!

But I suppose everything at Old Place might be about to change with the arrival of the master of the house, because presumably I was now redundant – surplus to requirements. Assuming, that was, that Jude knew how to cook?

And it was at that inconvenient moment that I suddenly realised that before the arrival of Guy, Coco and the objectionable Jude, I’d actually begun to
enjoy
all the Christmas preparations and would be sorry to leave!

But if they clear the roads I expect Jude will send Coco and his brother packing back to London, and expect me to leave too. He might want to count the silver first, since he seemed to have a very nasty, suspicious mind.

Up to that point, though, I knew my duty and would carry on as usual, so I got up and showered, then dressed in sensible jeans and jumper and went downstairs to let Merlin out and give the horses a bit of carrot.

It was still pretty dark, but I could see that the snow had drifted up one side of the yard and not the other, where the Land Rover stood. I didn’t think it seemed worse than the previous night though, just crunchier underfoot.

I cleaned out the ashes and stoked up the embers of the sitting-room fire, got everything out ready for breakfast and laid Tilda’s tray.

While I was busy, the radio kept announcing that it was Christmas Eve, as if I might have the five-minute memory of a goldfish, but somehow these reminders didn’t seem to hurt quite so much as they usually did, possibly because I had so much else on my mind at the moment.

Perhaps, at last, I was starting to relinquish the past and move on. A fresh start in the New Year – and maybe a fresh new life to go with it. Thank goodness nowadays having babies out of wedlock was totally acceptable, unlike in Gran’s day!

Merlin was eating his breakfast, liberally sprinkled with his medicine, and I had made giblet stock and a bowl of stuffing for tomorrow and was putting a batch of biscuits in the oven, when Michael came diffidently into the kitchen. He looked a different man to the frozen one of the night before – very handsome in a slightly haggard way, with fine features, light brown hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing a pale cashmere jumper to rival Guy’s, over cream chinos, which was about as practical an outfit for the country as any of Coco’s.

‘Good morning! I heard you moving about down here, so I hoped you wouldn’t mind my coming down for a cup of coffee? I’m a bit of an addict – and
something
smells delicious!’ he added, sniffing the air appreciatively.

‘Spiced biscuits for the tree,’ I explained. ‘Would you like cereal or a full cooked breakfast?’

‘Well, bacon and eggs and toast would be perfect – but I could do it if you’re busy?’

‘No, that’s fine, this is the last batch of biscuits. No-one else seemed awake, so I thought I’d get them done, because I promised Jess – that’s Jude’s niece – that we could ice them together this morning,’ I said, touched by his thoughtfulness. ‘But there’s a cafetière over there and coffee in the cupboard above it, so you could make us both some while I’m cooking?’

We chatted while he was eating his breakfast and I was washing up those things I’d used for the biscuits that wouldn’t go in the dishwasher, like the old metal pastry cutters shaped like Christmas trees, bells, stars and all kinds of other things. I told him how I did cooking and house-sitting for a living and in return he confessed, with a modest air, that he was an actor.

‘Oh really? I expect you’re terribly distinguished and I should have recognised you, only I rarely have time to watch TV or go to the cinema.’

‘Not really famous – I’m mostly stage, except that I had a part in a film last year and made a bit of a success of it –
The Darkling Hours
. Sort of Harry Potter crossed with Tolkien and a dash of C.S. Lewis, but it went down well and I’ve had a few high-profile cameo roles since.’

‘Oh yes, that was a huge success! I haven’t seen it, but I’ve heard about it. You were in that?’ I was impressed.

‘It certainly put me on the radar.’ He smiled rather sadly. ‘But while we were filming, my wife had an affair with one of the other actors and we’ve broken up.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

‘We had . . . irreconcilable differences. The marriage hadn’t really been working out. Debbie’s taken our little girl, Rosie, to spend Christmas with her parents in Liverpool, so I called in to visit her and take some presents on the way up to stay with my Yorkshire friends. But after that, taking the SatNav’s short cut led to my downfall.’

‘Well, it could be worse – at least you saw your little girl
before
you got stuck. How old is she?’

‘Two – and I think she’s already forgetting me,’ he said sadly. ‘At first Debbie said she’d rather I didn’t see her at all, but I want to stay in her life if I possibly can and I think we can stay friends if we work at it, for Rosie’s sake.’

‘Yes, of course you do and I’m sure Debbie will come round.’

He smiled at me. ‘I do feel better for talking it through, so getting myself stuck in the snow has had one good result! But my friends are going to be wondering what on earth has happened to me. I tried ringing them from my car last night, but they were out and I had to leave a message. And this morning I can’t get a signal at all!’

‘No, the phone reception here is lousy. You either have to walk down the drive just past the lodge or up the hill behind the house, before you can get a signal.’

‘It doesn’t really look like hiking weather out there, does it?’ he said, glancing out at the winter wonderland. ‘I wonder if it would be all right if I made a brief call from the house phone?’

‘I expect it would have been, only the poles have come down, so
that
isn’t working either, though there is a call box in the village, about half a mile away.’

‘Oh well, that’s that. I’m hoping I’ll be able to get off a bit later today anyway, if it’s stopped snowing and they clear the roads.’

‘I don’t
think
there’s been more snow since last night, but it’s a bit hard to tell, because it’s drifted and there’s been a freeze overnight – it’s all crunchy underfoot.’

‘It’ll probably thaw out once the sun comes up properly,’ he suggested optimistically.

‘A local farmer snowploughs the drive and the road to the village with his tractor, so he’ll be up later this morning and can tell us what it’s like out there,’ I told him. ‘If it’s passable, then I should think Jude’s brother and his girlfriend will be leaving too, so they could probably give you a lift down to your car. Or
I
could, because I’ll be leaving myself, though I’ll probably have to dig my car out. I hope it starts: I haven’t moved it for days.’

He looked up, surprised. ‘But – I was a bit too out of it last night, so I might have misunderstood – but aren’t you here to look after the house and do the cooking for Jude’s elderly relatives?’

‘No, actually this was only supposed to be one of my house-sitting jobs, to look after the empty house and the animals over Christmas.’

I’d made some fresh coffee and now sat down with him while he ate toast and marmalade, and explained what had happened. And as I was talking, I began to see everything that had led to this moment as a series of unfortunate events, a bit like the
Lemony Snicket
film, and actually some of it was quite funny. In fact, by the time Guy walked in on us, we were getting along as if we’d known each other for years.

He looked taken aback to see a stranger there and instantly demanded, ‘Who the hell is this?’

Coco drifted half-awake through the door after him, ethereally pretty in a diaphanous pink dressing gown and no makeup. Then she too spotted the visitor and jerked wide-awake, exclaiming, ‘Michael –
darling
!’

He put down his cup hastily and got up. ‘Er . . . Carla?’ he ventured uncertainly.

She threw herself at him like a rose-tinted flying squirrel and kissed him with a
mwah! mwah!
noise on both cheeks. ‘I haven’t seen you for ages! You remember me, don’t you – Coco Lanyon?’

‘Of course,’ he assured her, though I deduced from his expression that he didn’t. But he
was
an actor, so he returned the embrace, told her how wonderful she looked, and asked her what she was doing just now, and she told him about her Morning Dawn Facial Elixir TV advert.

‘This is Michael Whiston, he’s a well-known actor,’ I explained to Guy while all this luvviness was taking place.

He helped himself to coffee. ‘A friend of yours?’

‘No, I never met him before last night. He took a wrong turn when his SatNav told him to and—’

I broke off because Noël, in dressing gown and slippers, and Becca and Jess, who were dressed for mucking out, arrived to find the stranger in their midst and general introductions and explanations ensued.

‘Michael and Jude arrived late last night, when I was switching on the generator – the electricity went off and the automatic switchover didn’t happen,’ I explained succinctly.

‘You mean,
Jude
is here?’ Guy demanded, getting straight to the crux of the matter.

Coco went white – though actually she was pretty pale to start with, a translucent Nordic fairness. ‘Oh God, he’s not, is he?’

‘Oh, shut up, Horlicks,’ Jess said. ‘I’m glad Uncle Jude’s here! Do you think he’s brought me a present, Holly? Can I go and wake him up?’

‘The poor boy must have jet lag, to have got here so quickly,’ Noël suggested. ‘Let him sleep.’

‘No, I’m sure he’s fine,’ I said heartlessly, ‘you can wake him in a minute, Jess. But first, could you take this tray up to your granny?’

I’d been buttering toast and soft-boiling an egg while all the explanations were going on and now I added a little pot of tea to the tray. ‘There. If you take that, I can get on with everyone else’s breakfast.’

‘But Guy – Jude is here!’ Coco wailed, looking terrified. ‘What are we going to do? Oh, I
wish
I’d never come.’

‘Don’t we all,’ muttered Becca.

‘Oh, I don’t think he’ll throw
me
out into the cold, cold snow – not his baby brother,’ Guy said easily. ‘I can’t guarantee he won’t throw you out though, Coco.’

‘Don’t be silly, no-one will be leaving until the roads have been cleared,’ I said.

‘And of course Jude won’t throw you out anyway, m’dear,’ Noël reassured her.

‘Now, does everyone want a cooked breakfast?’ I asked briskly.

Coco shuddered even more. ‘An omelette made with egg whites for me,’ she ordered. ‘Black coffee.’

‘You could put the kettle on and make a fresh pot,’ I suggested. ‘And there are lots of eggs if you want to do your own thing. I’m cooking fried eggs, grilled bacon, tomatoes and toast.’

‘And very good it was too,’ Michael said, giving me a warm smile and seeming not to notice that Coco was looking outraged. ‘I’ll make the fresh coffee. Since I’m the unexpected visitor I’d like to make myself useful and you wouldn’t let me cook.’

‘Well, Noël and I are useless in the kitchen, so
we’ll
just keep out of the way,’ Becca said.

But to my surprise Guy also made himself useful by buttering the toast, while I fried the eggs and grilled bacon and halved tomatoes brushed with olive oil.

Jess returned, reporting that Jude was now getting up. ‘He won’t say if he’s brought me a present, so he probably has. And I told Granny about Jude being home and
she’s
pleased too,’ she announced. ‘She said she expected he would send you packing, Horlicks, and Guy would have to drive you back in his car, so we could get rid of both of you and have a lovely Christmas.’

‘You horrible child,’ Guy said dispassionately and then pulled ghastly faces at her until she giggled. Suddenly, despite not wanting to in the least, I found myself liking him a bit, despite his being so horrid to Coco.

‘Are those biscuits for the Christmas tree?’ Jess asked, spotting them cooling on the rack. ‘When did you make them?’

‘Early this morning, while most of you were still asleep. I thought we could ice them later, and put ribbon through ready to hang them on the tree. We’ve got icing sugar and I brought natural food colourings with me.’

‘Oh, great.’ She slid onto a chair next to Noël and helped herself to toast and jam. ‘Horlicks, you shouldn’t play with your food,’ she said severely.

Coco, who had taken a fried egg and was engaged in cutting out the yolk, looked at her with disfavour. ‘I don’t know why you keep calling me that, but I wish you’d stop!’

‘Yes, it’s very rude,’ said Becca, but without any great conviction.

Coco ate one mouthful of egg white and then pushed the plate away, though since she had the look of one who retired to sick up her meals immediately after eating them, it probably saved time. Or maybe she was just naturally all bones and angles?

‘I need a ciggy.’

‘Well, you’re not smoking it in
my
house,’ Jude’s deep voice said from behind her and the huge kitchen seemed to shrink with his entrance. Guy paled slightly for all his bravado and Coco looked frankly petrified.

‘Oh, look, it’s the Brother Grimm,’ I said involuntarily, looking at his set jaw – though to be fair, with one like that it would be hard for him to look soft and pleasant. And I can’t imagine why these kind of remarks keep slipping out when he’s there, because normally I keep a firm rein on my rebellious tongue with clients!