Twelve Days of Christmas (31 page)

‘Sweetener,’ Guy said, though I was sure he was lying. He exchanged a look with Jude and they both made their escape, while I seized the moment to give Coco a good lecture on the danger to her health from guzzling laxatives like sweets. She took it like a chided little girl and I felt about a century older and quite mean by the time I’d finished.

Then I removed her stash of Fruity-Go from the bedside table. ‘I know you’ve got more in your handbag, but I suggest you ration yourself to a normal dose every day until you run out, then stop them altogether. If you eat small, sensible meals, you’ll be fine, you really don’t need them.’

‘And you won’t tell Mummy, will you?’ she asked, since I had used this as a threat, without any intention of carrying it out. ‘Only she’ll have me locked up in some ghastly addiction clinic!’

I agreed that no, I wouldn’t do that, before carrying away my spoils and flushing them straight down the nearest loo. It took several flushes before they all vanished.

Coco came down later in a slightly chastened and quiet frame of mind, but soon showed signs of reviving since everyone was being nice to her, in their own way. She’d brought her handbag with her and kept a firm grip on it at all times, so she was obviously afraid I would change my mind and empty that of laxatives, too!

After supper, Jess showed me the long satin dress she’d picked out for me, which was not only a fairly sickly shade of salmon pink, but about twelve inches too short, though apparently for most of the play I would be disguised as a man anyway.

Coco had appropriated a white dress in which she looked like an emaciated bride and Jess herself wore a crown made of papiermâché and glass jewels. She’d been wearing it to supper, too.

‘I just like it,’ she explained. ‘I don’t have to have a real costume since I’m only Props, though Michael said that’s one of the most important jobs in the theatre. I have to make sure everyone is dressed for their parts at the right time, with all the things they need.’

‘I think
you’d
better wear a man’s overcoat until the end of the play, where you’re revealed as Sebastian’s sister – there’s one hanging up in the hall. Your boobs are
way
too big,’ Coco said to me, making me immediately sorry I’d been kind to her earlier – but I expect now she was feeling better she was getting a bit of her own back about the Fruity-Go.

‘I find myself unable to second that opinion,’ Guy said and I gave him a cold look.

‘Holly’s in perfect proportion,’ Jude said. ‘I should know, because I’ve spent most of the afternoon drawing her.’

I wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed about having my figure discussed in this way, or take this remark as a compliment.

‘She’s too tall though, even for a model,’ Coco objected.

Jude looked slightly surprised. ‘Do you think so? She seems about the right height to me.’

‘
I
am perfect, all the top designers say so,’ Coco said.

‘Well, it’s a strange world and it takes all sorts!’ Noël said cheerfully. ‘Now, what did we find for Jude to wear in the play?’

‘Just this dark blue velvet cloak,’ Jess said. ‘And a sword and moustache.’

‘I don’t mind wearing the cloak, but I draw the line at stick-on moustaches,’ Jude said firmly.

‘I daresay he could grow one by tomorrow if you insisted on it,’ Tilda remarked from the sofa in front of the fire. I think that might have been a
slight
exaggeration . . . maybe
two
days.

Guy went back to the half-finished jigsaw, though going by his expression, it annoyed him that I had stuck a couple more pieces in earlier. He gave me a suspicious stare that reminded me strongly of his brother.

We pulled chairs into a half-circle near the Christmas tree, ready to read through our parts for the first time, but first Noël gave us a brief run-down of the plot and the characters we would be playing.

‘Orsino, Duke of Illyria – that’s you, Jude – is in love with Olivia, played by Coco.’

‘“If music be the food of love, play on. Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken and so die,”’ declaimed Tilda thrillingly from the sofa.

‘Precisely, m’dear,’ Noël said. ‘Now, Sebastian and his twin sister Viola – you and Michael, Holly – are shipwrecked. Viola thinks her brother is dead, so she disguises herself as a man, and takes service with Orsino, as Cesario.’

‘All this cross-dressing must have been even stranger in Shakespeare’s time, when Viola would have been played by a young boy, playing a woman, disguised as a man,’ Michael said, with a grin.

‘I’m glad
I
don’t have to pretend to be a man, I’d never pull it off,’ Coco said. ‘Olivia is a ravishingly beautiful countess, but she doesn’t fancy Orsino.’

‘That’s one interpretation,’ Jude said. ‘But she’s certainly not very bright, because when Orsino sends Viola/Cesario to woo her, dressed as a man, she falls in love with her.’

I was feeling confused already and Coco frowned, ‘I’m not too keen on that bit, can’t we change it?’

‘I think we ought to leave it as the Bard put it, m’dear,’ Noël said, ‘it’s integral to the plot. So basically,’ he continued, ‘Viola falls in love with Orsino, who thinks she is a boy. Olivia falls in love with Viola, ditto, Orsino thinks he loves Olivia, and Sebastian isn’t really dead, he’s on his way there with his friend Antonio.’

‘Then it all comes to a head with lots of misunderstandings and mistaken identities, until finally Sebastian is married to Olivia and Orsino decides he’ll settle for Viola.’

‘But only if she looks good in a dress,’ Jude remarked, with a sideways look at me, but I didn’t rise to the bait.

We read it through aloud, with a bit of good-natured heckling by Becca and Tilda. Luckily, I didn’t seem to have too many soppy things to say to or about Jude/Orsino, since he doesn’t know Viola isn’t a boy until right near the end. It was a bit embarrassing when Coco had to pretend she was in love with me as Cesario, though . . .

Michael’s scenes with Olivia were also towards the end, when all the tangles get cut, but she still seemed dead set on getting him alone on the pretext of rehearsing them, a move he was clearly determined to resist to the death! I couldn’t work out if Coco had fallen for Michael (which wouldn’t be a surprise, since he’s very handsome, in a slightly drawn and haggard way), or simply saw him as a stepping stone to an acting career; but she’d certainly abandoned any claim on Guy and was going all out on a charm offensive.

Meanwhile Guy still persisted in trying to flirt with me and the fact that he wasn’t getting anywhere increasingly appeared to puzzle him. He followed me into the kitchen later when I went to make cocoa for those who wanted it, which was just me, Jude and Jess, because the rest of the party were hitting the sherry or the hard stuff again.

‘You know, I really like you, Holly,’ he said, ‘and I want to get to know you better. But let’s face it, I’m getting nowhere, am I? Why is that – am I too shallow, or don’t you like the colour of my socks?’

‘You simply aren’t my type.’ I was clattering pans and cutlery into the dishwasher for one final go of the day.

‘No? That’s strange, because I’ve always considered myself a universally appealing one-size-fits-all type,’ he said modestly.

‘Not as far as
I’m
concerned: and my gran would have said you were all mouth and trousers.’

‘Is that good?’

‘No. Don’t forget that I’ve seen first-hand that you’re a total love-rat, too –
and
everyone says you’re just like your Uncle Ned, who abandoned one poor girl when she was pregnant because he was already engaged to another at the time,’ I said acidly. ‘So no, I don’t think you’d be much of a proposition, even if I believed you were serious and not just being daft.’

He sighed. ‘You’ve got me all wrong . . . but I’ll change your mind. Till then, couldn’t you
try
and like me?’

‘I do a bit, sometimes,’ I admitted. ‘You can be quite funny.’

‘I’m not sure if that’s good or not. But the right woman would be the making of me, Tilda says so – and
you
look a bit of all right to me.’

‘I wouldn’t have thought anything short of a frontal lobotomy would change you,’ I said dubiously, ‘but then, she knows you better than I do.’

He laughed. ‘I wish now I hadn’t let Jude take my place as Orsino. He’s going to get all the hands-on action.’

‘There won’t
be
any hands-on action and I only agreed to do this stupid play to keep your wretched girlfriend in good humour, so she didn’t ruin Christmas for everyone else . . . and to cheer her up a bit, because I felt sorry for her.’

‘She’s not my girlfriend anymore and she’s already got her sights on Michael to fill the vacancy. He’s proving surprisingly resistant to her charms, though, just as you are to mine.’

‘Yes, that’s because
he’s
not daft, either.’

‘Or perhaps because he’s got other interests?’

I looked at him with surprise and then laughed. ‘Do you mean me? Michael and I are becoming good friends, but there’s no attraction between us of any other kind. Strange as it may seem to you, I’m perfectly happy single.’

‘Me too,’ Michael said, coming in just in time to overhear the last sentence. ‘I wish someone would tell Coco that!’

Guy grinned and went back to the others and I said to Michael, ‘I think it’s mean how Jude and Guy keep throwing you and Coco together, just because they’re tired of her. They hope chasing you will keep her amused.’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve been pursued before, not to sound too immodest – and she’s not my type. But I’m looking on it as a sort of price to be paid for being made so welcome here over Christmas, the unexpected guest.’

‘I wouldn’t say
Jude
seems to be making you very welcome!’

‘I think he has his reasons,’ Michael said with a smile. ‘Just as I suspect Guy is flirting with you partly to wind his brother up – though that’s not to say that he doesn’t find you attractive, too, because I can tell he does.’

‘I can’t see why Jude would care if Guy
did
get off with me. But it isn’t going to happen, even if Guy is under the delusion he can twist me round his little finger if he turns on the charm enough.’

‘We’ll just have to keep rescuing each other if we get cornered,’ suggested Michael.

‘Aren’t you two ever coming back into the sitting room?’ Jess asked, appearing in the doorway still wearing her jewelled crown. ‘I’m bored again!’

‘Just finished,’ I said, putting the mugs on the tray to carry through, along with some Parmesan twists and little bowls of nuts and olives.

Jess came right into the kitchen and directed an interrogative stare at Michael. ‘Michael, do
you
fancy Holly? Only Guy and George and Uncle Jude do.’

‘Jess!’ I exclaimed.

‘No,’ he answered gravely, ‘I think she’s a really nice person and I hope we’ll always be good friends, but I don’t fancy her in the least.’

‘Oh good, that’s
exactly
what I thought,’ she said, her brow clearing. ‘She doesn’t really like Uncle Guy that much, I can tell, and George is way, way, too old. So that just leaves Uncle Jude, doesn’t it?’

‘To do what?’ asked Jude, bringing in a tray full of dirty glasses – all lovely old lead crystal ones that would need hand-washing.

‘Oh, we were only discussing who’s got a sweet tooth,’ I said quickly. ‘Jess, do you want me to show you how to make instant microwave meringues and chocolate cake in a mug?’

‘What,
now
?’ she asked. ‘Isn’t it too late?’

‘Not really – it only takes a few minutes. Then you can eat them before you go to bed.’

‘Great,’ she said. ‘I wish you were
always
here, Holly – don’t you, Uncle Jude?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, sombrely regarding me. ‘She’s a bit like an irritating speck of grit in an oyster, and I’m not sure if she’s going to turn into a pearl or not.’

If Michael and Jess are right, and Jude
is
a little bit attracted to me, it sounds as if he really doesn’t want to be – and I feel exactly the same way about him!

Chapter 32
Puzzle Pieces

Gran’s story has turned terribly sad, but of course I now see where it’s all heading and feel so glad that someone as nice as my grandfather rescued her! But no wonder she was so reserved and totally buttoned up after that!

However, though I can guess the outcome, I’m determined not to jump ahead to the last entries, but read it in order, even though after her decision to go and see the minister she spent three more whole pages in examining the state of her conscience and the depth of her guilt in such exhaustive depth it eventually sent me to sleep.

This morning, after I’d let Merlin out and given the horses a bit of carrot each, I came back in to put the kettle on, only to find Jude already in the kitchen dressed in old jeans and a navy sweater ready for action, sitting by the table putting on his socks.

‘Do you think you could rescue my other wellie sock from Jess some time and remove the pink ribbon?’ he asked, looking up. ‘This is my only other pair and they’re going through at the heels.’

‘Okay, unless you’d prefer me to sew matching ribbon to the other, instead?’

‘Perhaps not,’ he said and then went off saying he was going to replenish the logs in the cellar from the ones in the wood store outside, because we’d got through an awful lot and the next ones could be drying out.

Later he cleaned the ashes from the sitting-room fire before going back out to see to the horse: these were all the sort of jobs I was only too happy to relinquish to him. Well, except looking after Lady: I enjoy spending time with her now.

When I’d fed Merlin I consulted my menus and schedule for the day, so that by the time he returned from the stables, I was well on the way to getting some turkey and ham pies in the oven.

He proved useful for making cups of tea while I was working and then he sat in a chair by the Aga out of the way with a sketchbook, his eyes following me around the room as I made a tray of mincemeat flapjacks and then cast a few fresh additions into the bubbling soup pot.

Now that I knew the way Jude’s eyes followed me round the room was just an impersonal artistic scrutiny, it didn’t really bother me at all. In fact, I kept forgetting he was there and carrying on like I always did when alone – talking to Merlin as I tossed him the odd scrap and, I expect, occasionally singing. I suppose I get almost as engrossed in my work as he does in his.

‘There we are,’ I said eventually, ticking a couple more things off the day’s schedule, ‘just breakfast to get ready now.’

‘Do you get up and go on like this early every morning?’ he asked curiously.

‘I do when I’ve got a house-party job. When it’s house-sitting, of course, I just see to the pets, or plants, or whatever I’m keeping an eye on, then the day is my own,’ I said pointedly. ‘When I’m cooking, though, I find it best to plan the menus and schedule in advance to make it all so much easier later.’

‘I feel
really
guilty now, especially since you keep saying you won’t accept any extra money. I’ll have to think of some other way of thanking you for all this hard work.’

‘So you said. But don’t bother, because I volunteered to do it – though of course, I didn’t know it would be double the number of people I originally invited.’

He put his sketchbook away and helped me to cook the breakfast which, as I said to him, seemed to be the one meal he
could
put together without a microwave.

‘You obviously haven’t found my secret cache of microwave all-in-one all-day frozen breakfasts yet, then,’ he said sardonically. ‘Though
you
can talk, after teaching Jess how to make microwave desserts last night!’

‘I’m not against microwaves, it’s just what you do with them. The meringues and cake are a short cut, but also fun. And now they have the Tilda seal of approval.’

‘They have my seal of approval too, come to that and, by the way, I expect you down at the studio again after lunch.’

‘I thought you’d finished with me yesterday?’

‘No, don’t you remember? I said I wanted to make a maquette or two next.’

‘Yes, but I didn’t think you’d need me for that. And it’s Sunday, so another early cooked dinner – cold cuts, roast potatoes and vegetables. I must raid Henry’s carrot store, I gave the last to the horses. Oh, and pudding will be frozen Arctic Roll, specially requested by Noël. It has to be one of
your
favourites, too, because there are
six
in the freezer.’

‘It is,’ he admitted, ‘but strange as it may seem, I like it with lots of hot custard poured over it.’

‘Well, that can be arranged, even if it does seem weird. But then, I suppose Baked Alaska is a bit odd, too.’

‘I expect Richard will hold a short church service today, seeing the regular vicar won’t be able to get through,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Guy can take Becca, Noël and Tilda down in my Land Rover if they want to go, which they probably will, and stay in the pub until he brings them back. Coco and Michael could go with him, so long as he doesn’t let Coco get drunk again.’

‘
I’d
quite like to go to the pub,’ I said wistfully, ‘but I’d better stay here and get dinner ready instead.’

‘I’m afraid they’re bound to bring Old Nan and Richard back with them,’ he said apologetically. ‘And did anyone tell you that they always come on New Year’s Eve for dinner too? They can be more audience for the revived
Twelfth Night
readings.’

‘No-one tells the cook anything. But two more won’t put me out unduly. There’s soup to start with, loads of turkey and ham, and I’ll do a few extra vegetables.’

‘I think there’s still a jar or two of Mrs Jackson’s fruit chutney in the larder,’ he said.

‘There is and I brought some of my own apricot chutney, too.’

I could hear people stirring in the house now – the clank of the water pipes, the creaking of old floorboards and, not least, the unmistakable thump of Jess’s feet as she ran across the landing and galloped down the wooden stairs.

‘Everyone’s about to appear – and these sausages are done, so I’m off to the studio,’ Jude said, handing the tongs to me. ‘Tell Guy about church and the Land Rover. I’ll see you later – and
I’m
not coming back for lunch so bring me something to eat.’

‘Yes, boss,’ I said sarcastically, and that totally transforming smile lit his face again for an instant: then one blink and it was gone – and so was he.

Later Guy, Coco and Michael all managed to squeeze into Jude’s Land Rover along with the church party, including a mutinous Jess who would rather have gone to the pub. Noël said they would come back up with George, who he was sure wouldn’t mind giving them a lift in his larger vehicle, along with Old Nan and the Vicar.

It looked a bit uncomfortably sardine-like, even though Jess and Coco didn’t take up much room and Tilda is the size of your average fairy. Becca
is
pretty substantial in the beam end, though. Once they were in, the windows immediately fogged up and Guy leaned across Coco and cranked down the passenger side.

‘You can phone your mum and see if your father is feeling better yet, Coco,’ I suggested and she looked at me blankly.

‘Why? It doesn’t matter if he is, because it’s too late. My engagement is
totally
over.’

‘And not even a Birkin bag to go back to,’ Guy commiserated and she flushed angrily.

‘I hate you, Guy Martland!’

He ignored her and instead said invitingly to me, ‘Sure you won’t come? You can sit on my lap.’

‘No thanks, I need to sort out early dinner,’ I said, though actually, now it came to it, I rather fancied a bit of time to myself, too.

And it was
bliss
. I had a quick tidy through the house, plumping up the cushions in the sitting room and pausing to put a few more pieces in the jigsaw puzzle. I can’t imagine why it was taking everyone so long to finish, and I know it annoys Guy when he finds I’ve had a go, but there’s something quite irresistible about a large jigsaw, isn’t there? Oriel was right.

After that I retired to the kitchen with my laptop and updated the notes for my cookbook with things that I’d tried and tested over Christmas, talked to Merlin and then went out with him for a little walk up the track.

A skin of ice had formed on the water trough in the paddock, and I broke that into jagged pieces like clear toffee and hooked them out onto the ground, before we left. Lady was pawing the snow to expose the grass beneath, ignoring the haynet, but Billy was up on his hind legs against the fence having a good go at the bottom of it and Nutkin was thoughtfully chewing a mouthful from further up.

There hadn’t been any fresh snow for ages, so perhaps the worst was over and soon it would start to thaw? Then I, and the rest of the uninvited and unwanted members of the party, could leave . . .

Somehow, that was no longer quite such an enticing thought.

The Little Mumming expedition returned in two Land Rovers, the pub party fairly merry, especially Coco. Still, Michael had at least remembered my request to bring back yet more sherry supplies for the elder members of the party, who were getting through it at a surprising rate.

George helped Tilda, Noël and Old Nan out of his Land Rover, though Richard and Becca jumped down unassisted from Guy’s, being still pretty spry. Then he rounded them all up and drove them into the house, a bit like a friendly but worried sheepdog.

I took the chance to thank him for his lovely present and he beamed and in turn thanked me for mine.

‘Won’t you come in?’ I asked.

‘Only as far as the mistletoe – if you insist!’ he said meaningfully, and winked at me – and for a minute, I admit I was quite tempted!

‘Oh, it fell down, so we had to put it in a vase,’ Jess said very quickly, appearing suddenly by my side like a sombre Jack-inthe-box. Tilda had dragooned her into a short black dress over tights for church, though she’d completed the outfit with big black lace-up boots and a long coat. ‘You can’t stand under it any more,’ she added, ‘so it doesn’t count.’

‘Pity,’ he said good-humouredly, though now he was close enough I’d spotted the faint imprint of a perfect lipstick bow on one of his lean, pink cheeks in an odd raspberry shade that reminded me of Oriel, so he’d obviously been spreading his net wide again.

But he didn’t go away
totally
disappointed, because I fetched one of the turkey and ham pies from the kitchen wrapped in tinfoil to take home for him and Liam. He opened the corner of the foil to look at it, and I thought he was going to go down on his knees in the snow and propose right there and then.

‘What’s he got that I haven’t?’ demanded Guy as he drove off.

‘Sincerity?’ I suggested.

I’d laid the table for Sunday dinner in the dining room, which was easier than the kitchen for such a large party, and then afterwards I cleared up and left them in the sitting room with coffee, sherry, mincemeat flapjacks and the last remnants of the Christmas cake, while I changed into leggings and tunic jumper and took a Red Riding Hood basket of lunch down to the studio, accompanied by Merlin this time.

I didn’t go straight there, though: first I walked on a bit past the lodge so I could update Laura on my suddenly becoming an artist’s model.

‘It’s weird, because he stares at me while he’s drawing, but it’s sort of impersonal. Not that he doesn’t keep looking at me at other times too – Michael and Jess are convinced he fancies me.’

‘How do you know he’s staring, unless
you
keep looking at
him
?’ she asked astutely.

‘He
is
a bit hard to ignore when he’s in the same room,’ I admitted. ‘In fact, he’s a bit hard to ignore when he’s in the same house: the atmosphere sort of changes.’

‘Hmmm . . .’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps he does fancy you?’

‘He might a bit, but having been widowed and then jilted, I don’t actually think he wants to – and anyway, he still thinks I’m up to something.’

‘You are, in a way – trying to find out the truth about your gran,’ she said. ‘And I think you’re more attracted by Jude than you’re admitting, because you’re afraid of falling in love again, too!’

‘A bit of physical attraction is neither here nor there! He’s not my type and, going by Coco, I’m not his! It’s really embarrassing playing Viola to Jude’s Orsino, though,’ I said, and gave her a graphic description of our play-acting.

‘Michael is Sebastian, my twin brother, so he gets off with Coco as Olivia in the end, but desperately wishes he didn’t, poor man. He’d feel
much
safer with me. But at least the play’s keeping Coco fairly amused. She managed to lock herself in an attic earlier today and had a panic attack, and I seized the moment to give her a talking to about her laxative consumption and confiscated most of them.’

‘Wasn’t that a bit high-handed?’

‘It was for her own good. If the snow doesn’t thaw soon, I might even get a bit of meat on her bones and colour in her cheeks before she goes home.’

‘So I take it there’s still no chance of escape yet?’

‘No, but in any case, I don’t think Jude would let me go until he’s finished with me.’

‘That sounds . . . dodgy. But interesting.’

‘As a model in the studio, idiot!’

I’d made Jude a sort of hot chopped-up version of the roast turkey dinner, like giant toddler food, and put it in one of the wide-mouthed Thermos flasks from the kitchen to keep it hot.

One good thing about him is that even with half his mind on his work, he still appreciates my cooking. I shared the flask of coffee, sitting next to him with a certain quiet companionship on the wooden model’s dais while he ate it.

Merlin sat between us, alternately leaning first against me, then Jude, then back again, and sighing a lot.

‘What’s the matter with this stupid dog?’ Jude asked eventually, puzzled.