The Christmas Invitation

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘Of course you can,’ he said. ‘I bid for some more recently in an auction and they should be arriving any minute. It was a big, mixed lot, though I could see in the online catalogue that there were one or two unusual ones, but the rest will be a surprise. A good one, I hope.’

  ‘If it comes when I’m at school, you won’t open it till I get home, will you?’ Teddy asked anxiously.

  ‘No, I’ll save it so we can open it together,’ Henry promised. ‘Then you can help me catalogue it.’

  At the back of my mind I was still dealing with the idea that Lex was not only coming tomorrow for the Christmas tree expedition – which I had no intention of joining – but staying overnight. I don’t suppose he wanted to while I was there: it was just another of those annual festive traditions that meant so much to the family.

  I found my voice finally and said brightly, ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll find a lovely tree tomorrow and while you’re out, I’m going to work on the background to the portrait in your study, if you don’t mind, Clara? Then perhaps you could give me another sitting on Sunday morning.’

  ‘Oh, but you can’t miss the Christmas tree hunt!’ said Teddy. ‘You have to come, Meg! We take a picnic and hot chocolate in flasks and everything.’

  That sounded fun, except that the ‘everything’ included Lex.

  ‘Teddy’s right, you can’t miss our little expedition, and you’re entitled to the occasional day off,’ urged Henry.

  ‘I’ve only just got here,’ I protested, and said I really would prefer to stay at the house and work, but as usual, Clara didn’t want to take no for an answer and Teddy and Henry seemed genuinely upset at the idea that I would miss out on such a treat.

  ‘We’re not all going to fit in Lex’s pick-up,’ Tottie said, and for a moment I thought that was going to give me an escape route. But no.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, we always go in two cars anyway,’ said Clara. ‘Teddy and Henry can go with Lex and the rest of us in the Range Rover.’

  ‘The Christmas tree plantation is near another reservoir called Rivington,’ Tottie explained to me. ‘There’s a picnic area near the shore where we have lunch afterwards.’

  ‘Then back we come with a huge tree, which will then shed its needles into the hall runner right up till Twelfth Night,’ finished Clara.

  ‘No, it won’t, because we get a Norwegian spruce and they hold their needles best,’ said Henry.

  ‘Even a Norwegian spruce won’t hold them till Twelfth Night, unless you superglue them on,’ said Tottie.

  When Teddy had finally gone up to bed, Henry showed me some more of his collection of vintage ornaments, and the bottom drawer of the cabinet, which contained Teddy’s collection of antique papier mâché fish. These oddly shaped aquatic creatures were actually little boxes for sweets that you could fill and hang on the tree.

  ‘I sometimes find one or two in mixed auction lots and he loves them, so now we keep an eye out for them.’

  Henry was very knowledgeable and told me a lot of interesting things about their history and the difference between glass blown from a kiln-heated rod and lampwork, but really I just loved the sparkliness of the silvered glass baubles and the strange and often quirky shapes – snowmen, fruit, musical instruments, birds, pixies … you name it, they made it.

  ‘The antique papier mâché Santa tree topper, which I showed you last time, always goes on the tree in the hall, to please Tottie. She’s the one who misguidedly added that glitter and cotton wool when she was a little girl.’

  ‘I actually like it like that,’ I admitted.

  ‘So do I, really, and even if it has ruined its value as an antique, it’s increased its value as a family heirloom.’

  He closed the drawer again on his treasures and we went back to the drawing room, but I didn’t linger long because I suddenly felt very tired. I went up to bed, leaving Tottie and Clara discussing what to have for dinner next evening. The consensus seemed to be that it would be a pasta dish that Lex was particularly fond of …

  The food, however delicious, would probably choke me if Lex was sitting at the same table.

  I wondered if I could develop a sudden allergy to Christmas trees overnight. It seemed an idea with lots of promise, since It would not only get me out of the expedition tomorrow, but a tree in the house would give me a reason to leave as quickly as possible.

  I just wasn’t sure how convincingly I could put on an allergic reaction, and sustain it, under Clara’s bright, clever eyes.

  Clara

  Father’s new parish in Devon was warm and welcoming but I remained deeply unhappy at leaving Henry and everything I knew and loved behind me.

  Then my mother’s elder sister, Aunt Beryl, who was a wealthy widow with no children of her own, kindly suggested she paid the fees for me to be privately educated and my parents chose a small boarding school noted for the scholarship and intellectual achievements of the girls. Many had gone on to pursue degree courses at Oxford or Cambridge.

  It was a stimulating environment and I also made several friends, all of whom went on to achieve considerable success in their chosen fields. But of course, I never forgot Henry. There always seemed to be some invisible connecting thread between us, as if we had been born twins …

  Henry’s father (his mother having died soon after we moved) was not the kind to write letters or send out annual Christmas cards, so all contact with the Doomes petered out, as these things do. Secretly, though, I intended that when I was old enough I would go and find Henry, but until that day I’d just have to bide my time.

  In due course I was accepted, a year earlier than my peers, at Lady Margaret Hall, which was my mother’s old college in Oxford.

  Aunt Beryl had originally suggested that I be ‘finished’ abroad and then she could launch me on the London social scene … but I was quite determined on what I wanted to do with my life, and it wasn’t an endless round of empty social events with a ‘good’ marriage inserted into the middle of it. When I told her this, and that my idea of fun was picking out an inscription on some ancient stone, she laughed and promised to support me through college instead.

  She was to have more luck a few years later with my sister, Bridget. She proved more than happy to enter the social whirl of London, while I pursued my studies and embraced my chosen career.

  I was never one to be deflected from my purpose.

  14

  Brief Encounter

  We all met for breakfast early next morning and I tried my get-out-of-gaol-free card. ‘I’m afraid I remembered last night that I’m allergic to pine trees,’ I said casually, buttering toast.

  ‘What makes you think that, dear?’ said Tottie, who was combining the consumption of crumpets with the construction of a mound of sandwiches for the picnic. Den had just taken a tray of vegetarian sausage rolls out of the oven, which were also probably part of the moveable feast.

  ‘The moment the Yule tree was brought into the Farm and hung from the rafters in the hall, I’d start to sneeze and my eyes would water,’ I said. ‘I really don’t think it would be a good idea to come with you to choose the tree. I mean, a whole plantation of them …’ I tried to sound regretful.

  ‘I’ve never heard of anyone being allergic to trees,’ Clara said, sounding very Lady Bracknell. ‘I’m quite certain it must have been something else setting you off, Meg.’

  ‘It does seem an unusual allergy, especially for anyone brought up in the country,’ agreed Tottie.

  ‘I think, my dear, that coming with us today would settle the matter one way or the other,’ Henry suggested. ‘Perhaps it was just dust disturbed from the rafters when the tree was hung up, or something like that?’

  Had I really had a reaction, that would have been a possibility, seeing that no one ever dusted the huge beams of the farmhouse ceilings, or removed the cobwebs and their occupants (‘our little friends’, as River referred to them).

  ‘Of course, if you start sneezing and your eyes stream the moment we ge
t out of the car, then we’ll know you were right,’ Tottie said.

  ‘Unlikely,’ declared Clara. ‘But if it happens, you can get back in the car and keep the windows closed.’

  ‘She’d ’ave to eat ’er bleeding food in there too, seeing the picnic site’s slap bang in the middle of the trees by the reservoir,’ Den pointed out, waving the tongs he’d been using to transfer sausage rolls on to a cooling rack, to emphasize the point.

  ‘I don’t expect it’ll come to that,’ said Clara. ‘Didn’t you tell me you decorate the Yule tree with corn dollies, Meg? They’d probably be dusty by December; that’ll be it.’

  Since there seemed no getting out of the expedition, I said reluctantly, ‘Perhaps you’re right.’

  Teddy, who’d been listening anxiously to this discussion, the spoon suspended above his half-eaten cereal, now said with flattering intensity, ‘I need you to come, Meg. Do you want to drive there in the pick-up with me and Uncle Lex and Uncle Henry?’

  ‘Bit of a squeeze,’ suggested Den. ‘Better in the car.’

  I breathed a sigh of relief and Teddy seemed to accept this, for he said, swirling the contents of his bowl around, ‘I like it when the chocolate comes off the cereal and goes into the milk,’ then resumed eating.

  ‘You make the most of it, because it’s back to the wholegrain stuff after the weekend,’ said Clara.

  We left Den and Tottie assembling the picnic. Henry and Teddy got ready for a walk with Lass, since she’d be staying at home while we were out.

  Clara said we had an hour to spare, so we retired to her study, where she briskly dictated another chapter of the crime novel, while I laid on paint with my little trowel of a palette knife. When I’m working, a sort of energy flows from my brain to my fingers; I can feel it, like an electric current. I’d missed that while I was ill, and I’d worried that it might never come back.

  I immediately forgot about the expedition or anything else, so it was a shock when Henry put his head round the door and told us Lex had just pulled up and we’d better get ready to go, while they loaded the picnic hampers.

  By the time I’d cleaned my palette knives and hands, and rushed upstairs to change my painty sweater for a warm tunic and my Converse pumps for short boots, everyone else was outside except Henry, who was heading for the door with a couple of tartan travelling rugs.

  ‘There you are, my dear, and I’ve settled down Lass, so we’re ready to go!’ He handed me one of the rugs. ‘You can wrap this around yourself in the car. You mustn’t get chilled while you’re still convalescent.’

  ‘Come on, Meg, we’re all waiting for you,’ called Clara as I went down the steps, to the sound of Henry turning the big key in the lock behind me.

  Lex, six-four of darkly brooding hawkish handsomeness, was leaning against the open driver’s door of the pick-up and he gave me a sombre look.

  ‘How lovely that you and Meg are old friends, Lex. But you can catch up later. We’d better get off now,’ Clara said, and the expression in those dark green eyes turned sardonic.

  Did he really think I’d told Clara that we’d been friends?

  He said nothing, though, just swung an excited Teddy up into the cabin and got in the driver’s seat. Henry nimbly climbed into the passenger side, next to Teddy.

  Clara and Den were now arguing about who should drive the Range Rover, but Den won. (I didn’t know how anyone ever got their own way with Clara; there must be a knack to it that I hadn’t discovered yet.) She sat in the front next to him, still grumbling, while Tottie and I got in the back, an open wicker basket of Thermos flasks wedged between us.

  The drive to Rivington was mostly along quiet country roads through farmland and I’d have enjoyed it if I hadn’t known I’d have to get out at the other end and face Lex again. Or not. Perhaps he’d just stride off on those long legs of his and ignore me completely.

  The Christmas tree plantation was up a rough track. Rows of trees in various sizes stretched away on either side.

  ‘They cut the trees and net them up, ready for sale, nearer Christmas – another week or so – but early birds like us can choose one and they’ll chop it down so we can take it back with us,’ Tottie informed me as we all climbed out and stood in a chilly huddle by a barn.

  We were now entirely surrounded by rows and rows of standing pine trees and the air was redolent with their heady, resinous scent. It reminded me of the Farm, with its dark forest edging up beside it.

  ‘Here we are, completely submerged in a sea of pine trees,’ said Henry, poetically, ‘and you’re not sneezing or anything, Meg.’

  ‘My eyes are watering, though,’ I said quickly.

  ‘That’s just this cold wind – we all have watering eyes,’ Clara pointed out.

  She examined me with her bright, dark gaze for other signs of imminent allergic attack and found none. ‘It appears the reaction must have been to dust after all, which is lucky because you couldn’t have avoided the tree once it was in the hall, could you?’

  Only by leaving the Red House the moment the tree, along with Lex Mariner, entered it, I thought regretfully.

  But you can’t manufacture a full-blown allergic reaction without being a better actor than I am, so I abandoned that one.

  Den was sensibly staying in the warm fug of the car, listening to the radio, until needed to help load the tree into the back of the pick-up.

  As we all set off into the teeth of an icy wind – or in Teddy’s case, ran off – I wished I was back in there with him.

  Once among the ranks of trees it was more sheltered and I got interested in the different kinds and the way, as we moved from section to section, they ranged in size from cute tiny ones to huge monsters.

  Among the latter were apparently some of the desired Norwegian variety and I stopped to see if I could spot the difference. Perhaps they were the ones with a rather beautiful blueish-green tint.

  I looked up to ask Henry, only to discover that everyone else had moved on and vanished up the next row. There was no one in sight except Lex, who was standing watching me with his hands in his jeans pockets and a somewhat Grim Reaper expression on his face, though luckily there wasn’t a scythe to hand.

  Before I could stop myself, I said, ‘Of all the rows of trees in all the world, you had to pick this one.’

  Unfortunately, my mouth often tosses out a flip remark at entirely the wrong moment, especially variations on this line from Casablanca, and I could see this one hadn’t gone down that well.

  ‘I want a word with you,’ he said flatly.

  It was clearly show time, and if he was forcing the issue then maybe this was the moment when we could finally get things clear between us. I let go of the branch I’d been inspecting and straightened up to face him.

  ‘Well?’ I said shortly. ‘I’ve already grasped that my arrival was a shock – and not a good one – but you can’t have imagined I’d have agreed to come to the Red House if I’d known you lived up here.’

  ‘You were the last person I expected to see when I brought Teddy back from school on Wednesday,’ he said. His eyes darkened. ‘It was like the past had come right back to haunt me.’

  ‘Well, ditto,’ I snapped.

  ‘Then there was nothing to stop you turning round and leaving again, was there?’

  ‘Don’t imagine I didn’t want to, because that was my first impulse,’ I told him. ‘But I’m a professional and I’d accepted the commission to paint Clara, and Henry, too.’

  ‘She told me all about the portraits and she was really excited that you’d agreed to come, but she didn’t mention your name.’

  ‘No, well, she didn’t happen to mention that you were her nephew either, until I got here and discovered it for myself. But when I found out you actually lived a few miles away, I thought it would be OK. I didn’t realize you’d be around so much.’ I shrugged, with a nonchalance I wasn’t feeling. ‘Now we have met it doesn’t seem to matter so much, but I’m sorry if it’s brought the past back. I
t’s not a time I want to remember either.’

  ‘What happened between us wasn’t really your fault. I don’t blame you for anything,’ he said wearily.

  ‘Big of you, considering I didn’t do anything you could blame me for,’ I said, though as always that small flicker of guilt stirred and I felt my face colour.

  An unbidden memory of that fateful night came back at this inopportune moment and I could hear Al’s voice, when I’d answered Lex’s phone, demanding to know if he was there with me.

  ‘Yes, but he’s asleep and—’ I’d begun.

  ‘Then wake him up and tell him Lisa’s taken a sudden turn for the worse. Her parents have been trying to get hold of him the last two hours. Give me your address and I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

  Numbly I’d obeyed and then said stupidly, ‘But you’re at work.’ He’d had to leave the wine bar where we’d all met up quite early that evening, for his job at a hotel as night porter.

  ‘Not any longer,’ he’d said tersely and rang off.

  Lex’s voice dragged me back to the present, marooned in a sea of bristly green with a tall, dark, handsome and conflicted man, like the start to a low-budget movie.

  ‘There’s nothing to be gained by going over the past now, that’s for sure,’ he was saying. ‘You’re here and we’ll have to deal with it, for Clara and Henry’s sake.’

  ‘You won’t have to strain your civility for long because I’m clearing out the day after the Starstone Solstice ceremony.’

  ‘Clara told me your grandfather was coming up for the ceremony, but you were staying on till the New Year.’

  ‘Clara keeps telling me that, too, but I’m not. I have no idea how anyone ever gets through to her: she’s like a human steamroller.’

  ‘It’s not just Clara who thinks you’re staying, everyone else does, too. And if you’re painting Henry’s portrait as well as Clara’s you can’t do that by the twenty-first, can you?’