‘Actually, I can, as long as they both give me a few sittings. I’ve already started Clara’s portrait and it’s coming together fast.’
I didn’t mention how I now longed to paint the other inhabitants of the Red House, too – Den and Tottie, and even the slightly desiccated Sybil from Underhill – because that was a dream destined never to be fulfilled.
‘Well, Clara said Henry is really looking forward to showing you a proper family Christmas with all the festive trappings, because apparently you’ve never experienced one.’ He looked at me sceptically, one dark eyebrow raised.
It just showed how little he’d ever really known about me, though I suppose that cut both ways, for until I’d arrived here I hadn’t known anything about his background either.
‘We don’t celebrate Christmas, as such, at home, so originally I did find the idea sort of interesting, but not any more.’
That was a straight lie, because I was becoming ever more fascinated by the whole thing.
‘Running away? Could your conscience possibly be bothering you more than you admit?’
‘Why should it?’ I said coldly. ‘I was only guilty of an act of kindness, after all.’
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ he said drily.
I stared levelly at him. ‘It’s the only way of putting it, whatever your mad friend, Al, accused me of later.’
He looked taken aback. ‘What do you mean? Did Al talk to you about that night? When was this?’
‘Remember a couple of weeks after Lisa …’ I petered out, because there was no tactful way of saying ‘died’. I started again. ‘Remember when you came back into college to collect some of your stuff and you cut me dead in the corridor? At the time, I thought you were either too grief-stricken to notice me, or embarrassed because you’d got drunk that night in the wine bar and told me a lot of very personal things.’
He pushed the dark curls out of his eyes and said, ‘I did remember some of it … but I’d hoped I wouldn’t run into you that day.’
‘Al came and found me after you’d gone. I don’t know what on earth you’d told him and why, but he laid into me as if I’d dragged you back to my flat and taken advantage of you in a weak moment.’
Then I remembered my weak moment again … or rather, our shared weak moment, and felt myself blush. Then the heat receded and iciness set in, because clearly he shared Al’s version of what had happened. I could see it in his eyes.
‘I’ve felt so much guilt since Lisa died, but I’ve been trying to put it behind me and move on, and then you come along and stir it all up again.’
‘Well, I’ve said I’m sorry about that, but it was unintentional and soon I’ll be gone. Feel free to carry on using me as a scapegoat for anything you did in the past, if it makes you feel better.’
He frowned down at me for a minute, as if trying to puzzle my attitude out.
‘I don’t understand you … but now you are here, you might as well stay until you’ve done the job. And I’m very fond of Clara and Henry, so I’ll even put up with you over Christmas, if I have to.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ I said sarcastically. ‘I’d so love to be the ghost at the feast.’
He shrugged. ‘Please yourself. I usually stay at the Red House from the day of the Solstice – around the twenty-first – to the New Year, but if the weather isn’t bad I can escape down to the pottery on some excuse occasionally. Al and Tara will be there for most of it. You do know Al is my business partner?’
‘Yes, that really put the cherry on the cake. And Clara told me Tara is Lisa’s younger sister, so there’s whipped cream, too.’
He gave me another of his haunted, slightly smouldering looks. He’d have given Heathcliff a run for his money any day. ‘We’ve all come to terms with Lisa’s loss – Tara’s parents, too. We’ve … settled into acceptance.’
That sounded comfortable. Pity I’d arrived on the scene and ripped the wound apart again.
‘We all work together at Terrapotter. Tara’s a silversmith and has a small studio there, but she helps out with the pottery and the paperwork, too.’
He looked down at me again. ‘Please yourself whether you stay or go, as long as you don’t disappoint Clara and Henry. I really don’t care either way, now.’
I was starting to feel angry all over again. I hadn’t done anything wrong and I didn’t deserve this contempt. He might be eaten up with guilt about the past, but my imagined role in it had only been one small part.
Would he actually believe me if I forced him to listen to the truth about that night? I thought perhaps I’d better make the attempt, whether he did or not.
‘Lex, it’s time you heard what really happened …’ I began resolutely, but I was too late: he’d already turned and was striding off.
‘Uncle Lex! Uncle Lex!’ Teddy was flying down the row of trees, pink-cheeked and excited. ‘Did you and Meg get lost? Come on, we’ve found the perfect tree and it’s huge!’
15
First Flower
I thought Clara gave us both a keen look when we joined the rest of the party, but no one else appeared to notice anything amiss and I kept as far away as possible from Lex as we retraced our steps through rows of increasingly Lilliputian fir trees to the large barn.
The chosen tree, which looked to me about the height of a house, had already been cut and wrapped in netting. It was soon loaded into the back of the pick-up, where it was secured with rope.
Then we drove down to the picnic area by the reservoir, where the contents of the hamper were set out on a large picnic table near the water’s edge.
I found myself unable to eat much, however delicious it all was, though I was grateful for cup after cup of hot coffee or cocoa, from the giant Thermos flasks, because I was chilled not only to the bone, but to the heart.
Back at the Red House I could have made a quick escape into the studio, but I was so convinced that there was no way they’d get that huge tree into the hall, let alone standing upright, that I lingered to watch.
Den fetched a monumental green-painted metal stand and then the tree was somehow eased through the front door and vestibule into the hall, without taking out any of the stained glass. Then it was tilted up into the stairwell until vertical.
Finally it was clamped firmly into the metal base and manoeuvred into the perfect position in the curve of the staircase, the top several feet above my head.
There was some argument about which was its best side and it was turned a little to and fro until everyone was satisfied.
By then, quite some time had elapsed, and Tottie and Den, who had at some point vanished towards the kitchen regions, reappeared with the tea trolley.
‘Picnic leftovers to finish off!’ cried Tottie gaily, and, not having had any lunch, my stomach gave a sudden lurch and grumble of hunger. I can’t say the thought of settling down in the drawing room en famille with Lex there was that appealing, though.
‘I’ll just take my tea through into the studio with me, if you don’t mind,’ I said, as Clara set out the cups and saucers, which today seemed to have been randomly selected from three different services.
She looked up. ‘Oh, don’t go, Meg. Why don’t you just relax for a bit? You’ve already done some work today, and after tea I was hoping you’d give Lex a hand getting down the boxes of decorations and the other tree from the attic.’
‘She doesn’t need to. I can manage perfectly well on my own,’ Lex said.
‘I expect you could, but it’s easier if there are two of you, because then you can pass down the boxes from the upper attic without climbing up and down that ladder,’ said Henry.
‘I can help too,’ offered Teddy eagerly.
‘Den would have lent a hand, but he’s gone back to his flat for a bit,’ Henry said.
‘And I promised Sybil I’d pop down and help do the horses today, because Len’s off,’ said Tottie.
‘Well, I want to do a little more work … and I expect Henry also means to vanish into
his burrow for an hour or two,’ said Clara. ‘So if you really didn’t mind, Meg … ?’
There was nothing for it but to agree. ‘No, of course I don’t mind. I’m glad to be of use. If there are two of us – and Teddy, of course,’ I added hastily, seeing his mouth open indignantly – ‘I don’t expect it’ll take long. I can stand at the bottom of the ladder while Lex passes everything down.’
Or perhaps dropped them on my head if the fancy took him, though boxes of baubles probably didn’t weigh much so they’d only mildly concuss me. Death by Bauble sounded like a good crime novel title, though not the kind Clara wrote.
‘Then I can carry them to the top of the attic stairs,’ Teddy said.
‘If you’ve finished eating, we might as well get on with it,’ Lex said, abruptly getting up.
I hadn’t – in fact, I’d only just finished a sausage roll and decided I could manage an egg and cress sandwich, too – but I drank my tea quickly and Teddy and I followed him, though I took the sandwich with me and ate it on the way upstairs.
I hadn’t been up to the attic floor before, though I remembered Clara telling me they hadn’t renovated it and it was mostly used for storage. The stairs were narrow and uncarpeted, and a door at the top opened on to a passage with small rooms opening off it that I guessed were once servants’ bedrooms. There was another door at the furthest end of the corridor. Lex opened this and switched on the lights, illuminating a large, gloomy space filled with the shrouded shapes of large pieces of furniture, old trunks, boxes, broken chairs … the usual strangely assorted collection of items that seem naturally to accumulate in attics and lumber rooms.
Right at the back was the almost perpendicular ladder leading up to another level. It wasn’t very high, but I wondered why on earth they’d decided to store the Christmas decorations up there, rather than more handily near the main door.
I didn’t bother asking Lex, who had been silent all this time and now vanished upwards without a word. There was the sound of objects sliding across a wooden floor and then a long and ominous-looking canvas bag with handles was lowered down to me. I reached up to grasp it and found it surprisingly heavy.
‘That’s the tree for the drawing room,’ said Teddy, and as soon as I’d set it down, he seized the handles and dragged it to the door, then along the passage to the top of the stairs.
‘Plastic storage boxes next,’ said Lex, and the first of them slid down the ladder into my waiting hands. They were quite light and had handles, which made it easier, and they bore handwritten labels saying things like ‘Large baubles’ or ‘Lights’.
Teddy greeted each one like an old friend. ‘This is the box with new glass ornaments. We get them from the Christmas shop in the old mill near Little Mumming and Henry says they’re the collectibles of the future.’
‘I expect they are,’ I agreed, passing him a light box that was apparently full of tinsel and folding paper garlands.
The next was heavier. ‘This one’s full of the huge plastic baubles,’ said Teddy, electing to drag rather than carry it. ‘The plastic ones come in three different sizes and they’re very bright and shiny. You need a lot of them for a tree the size of the one in the hall.’
The next box was cardboard, with a lid – large, rectangular and light.
‘This is the big Father Christmas, who stands near the tree in the hall,’ Teddy said.
‘I thought Father Christmas lived in Lapland, not in a box in your attic!’ I teased.
‘He’s not the real one,’ Teddy explained seriously. ‘He’s got a pottery face and long red robes, but his body is just a big cone underneath, that’s why he’s so light.’
‘Porcelain face,’ corrected Lex’s voice from above. ‘I think that’s everything.’
‘No, the Angel Gabriel’s missing,’ said Teddy.
I heard Lex’s feet on the boards above and dust spiralled down through the cracks, making me sneeze.
‘You’re allergic to attics, not Christmas trees!’ said Teddy, and giggled.
‘I think it’s a dust allergy – your aunt Clara was quite right.’
‘She always is,’ said Lex, coming down the ladder with a box under one arm and making it look easy.
‘One angel,’ he said to Teddy, presenting it.
It took a few trips to ferry all the boxes down to the hall, where they were stacked up out of the way, except for the canvas bag, from which came the fake tree of obvious antiquity, though still a pleasing deep green colour. It had to be constructed from fat, fuzzy wire branches that slotted into a metal trunk. When put together and placed in the square bay window in the drawing room, it reminded me of a monkey puzzle tree. The bay was large, despite the padded seats up either side, so there was still room to move around the tree and to draw the old velvet curtains.
I did manage to escape after that, but only to my room to change and get ready for dinner. There was no time to think, which was probably just as well.
At dinner, I found myself at the opposite end of the table to Lex, which made the situation less awkward for me. The conversation was wide-ranging and interesting, too, so that I found myself sometimes forgetting he was there at all.
Den joined us for the dessert and then coffee in the drawing room, before he went off to his flat again to watch the telly.
‘And probably to eat gross things like pork scratchings and salami,’ said Clara.
‘Well, he’s at perfect liberty to eat and drink anything he likes in his own flat,’ said Henry.
‘He does,’ said Tottie, handing me a mead chaser to go with the coffee, a strange combination of tastes. Not unpleasant, just weird.
Lex was sitting on one end of a sofa, stroking Lass’s tummy, while she closed her eyes and sighed with ecstasy. His unguarded face looked tired, the shadows dark under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept for a couple of nights … maybe since I’d arrived on the scene. Only a few days had passed since then, but I felt as if I’d been here for months.
All the excitement had made Teddy tired. Eventually he just kept keeling over sideways with his eyes closed, so he was sent to bed.
He insisted that Uncle Lex do the honours of bath and bedtime reading, and after they’d gone upstairs the rest of us embarked on a game of Scrabble. Tottie and Henry were good, but Clara was the clear winner: never play word games with an epigrapher, because there’s no way they’re ever going to lose.
I didn’t notice when Lex returned; he was just there when we’d finished the game, reading quietly by the fire.
And by then my eyes were closing just like Teddy’s had and I said my goodnights and left them all to it.
But despite feeling so suddenly weary, once I was in bed, I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing images of a young Lex lying next to me, smiling drowsily down into my eyes … but unless I had False Memory Syndrome about what happened next, Al and Lex were both living in an alternative reality, inhabited by a totally different version of me.
I slid off eventually into an uneasy sleep, but my nightmare was not of that time, but a few years later. I relived the moment when Rollo’s horrified face had turned to me after I’d told him I was pregnant … and then the car was veering off the road, a horrendous tortured screaming of metal added to my own, followed by a sudden eclipse into darkness.
I woke up just as I had in hospital afterwards, my face wet with tears and an aching emptiness where the baby had been.
After that, I didn’t sleep at all.
From the look of Lex at breakfast, I don’t think he’d slept any better than I had. He sat silently over his toast and coffee, though Teddy talked enough for all of us, mostly about decorating the trees later on.
Afterwards, Clara decreed that since she was behind with her memoirs, she would have a session on those, while the rest of us went out for a nice bracing walk, before an afternoon spent tree decorating.
‘Though Den and Tottie said they were going to church,’ she added.
‘Soon as I’ve fetched the soup from the fre
ezer and the banana bread’s out of the oven,’ Den agreed.
I didn’t have him down as a churchgoer, and he wasn’t, because Clara explained, ‘Den’s best friends with Fred Golightly at the pub, so they have a good catch-up while Tottie’s at church.’
‘Me and Fred’s best mates, aren’t we?’ confirmed Den.
‘You can paint me for an hour or so before lunch, Meg, while I dictate the next chapter of the crime novel,’ suggested Clara.
‘That’s great,’ I said. ‘But I’ll give the walk a miss and just work in the studio till then.’
‘I think you should get some fresh air, Meg,’ Henry said. ‘Besides, Clara sometimes finds an empty house conducive to pushing through to the next stage of whatever she’s working on.’
I could empathize with that: like most creative people, I loved feeling the warm, heavy folds of an empty house enclosing me in a world of my own.
‘Yes, I’ve rather got bogged down in the years after we left Starstone for a parish in Devon, and before my arrival at university, which were pleasant enough, but so dull,’ agreed Clara. ‘I just need to tie up the loose ends and then move on to a more interesting stage of my life.’
‘When we met again?’ suggested Henry, and they exchanged one of those fond smiles that make couples who have been happily married for a lifetime resemble each other, however different their features are.
‘I’m not going for a walk unless you and Uncle Lex come too,’ Teddy said mutinously, and Lex gave me a sardonic look.
‘Of course I’ll come with you, then, Teddy,’ I said, and went to get my boots and coat.
Henry, Lex, Teddy and I set out by the back door, where a wide gravelled path led through the middle of twin knot gardens and round the side of the vegetable plot, a polytunnel and some small fruit trees, until it finished at an opening in a hedge. Beyond that was a grassy area with a neat row of white hives, surrounded by lavender and rosemary bushes.
It was a peaceful spot, though I could hear the hens somewhere near the stable block.
The Christmas Invitation Page 13
