The Christmas Invitation

by Trisha Ashley

We passed through a five-barred gate into a field and down a track that Henry told me led to the bottom paddock, where Sybil’s horses were. It was a shortcut to Underhill, too.

  It was bitterly cold and I’m sure I felt the occasional ghost touch of a snowflake. We didn’t talk much, and Teddy ran about hiding behind walls and jumping out at us.

  Two horses were in the lowest field, a bay and a bright chestnut, standing in an open-fronted shelter, pulling at hay nets. They glanced over their shoulders at us as we passed, but we were obviously not as interesting as the hay.

  A stream ran through the paddock. Lass, who had been ambling along in a vacant but happy manner, suddenly came to life, galloped off and jumped into a muddy pool.

  ‘You little stinker!’ said Lex, when she finally responded to commands and emerged, shaking herself vigorously as we backed away.

  ‘She’s a chocolate spaniel now,’ said Teddy, giggling.

  ‘Yes, and you can help me turn her back to her usual colour when we get home,’ Lex told him.

  ‘Oh, I usually just shut her in the garden hall till she’s dried off and then Den brushes most of the mud out of her coat,’ said Henry. ‘She does seem to have acquired a lot more of it than usual this time, though.’

  ‘She has, and there’s more than a slight hint of horse manure, too,’ Lex suggested.

  Lass showed signs of wanting to get back into this deliciously fragrant bath, but was firmly clipped to the lead and dragged away.

  The land rose in front of us to the hilltop crowned with the Starstone. From this angle, I could see a sort of level space below it and a dark fissure in the rocks. We didn’t head that way, but instead turned on to a downward path that came out at the road just before the gates to Underhill.

  ‘We just follow the road home again now, through the village,’ Henry told me. ‘It’s only about a mile.’

  Lass, seemingly invigorated by her icy dip, towed him off briskly towards Starstone Edge, with Teddy skipping along beside him. Lex hadn’t said a word directly to me all morning and now strode off after them, leaving me to bring up the rear.

  When we reached the edge of the village, many of the cottages we passed looked shut up for the winter and there were few signs of life, other than spirals of blue-grey smoke from one or two chimneys and a dog barking in the distance, possibly from one of the farms, for sound carries strangely in valleys.

  Someone was about, though: rounding a bend in the road we caught up with a small, thin woman pushing a baby buggy. The infant in it was almost invisible, having been inserted into a sort of hooded sheepskin footmuff affair. I could see only two closed eyes and a button nose.

  The woman turned, revealing a face that was quite pretty in a rodenty sort of way – pointy nose and pouched cheeks. Her hair was much the colour of the mud Lass had rolled in, long and limp and appearing a little damp. But then, it had always looked like that …

  ‘Moonflower!’ I exclaimed. ‘I’d no idea you lived here. I haven’t seen you for years!’

  She parted the lank fronds of hair and peered at me. ‘Is that you, Meg? What are you doing up here?’

  ‘Painting Clara’s portrait,’ Henry said. ‘How nice that you know each other.’

  ‘Moonflower lived in the commune at the Farm with her parents for a couple of years, before they moved on,’ I explained.

  ‘They always liked travelling about in the van, rather than being in one place all the time,’ said Moonflower. ‘We came here one day and camped down among the trees by the reservoir … and I met Bilbo and stayed. This is our baby, Grace-Galadriel.’

  ‘She’s … lovely,’ I said, peering down at the infant. The button nose was a bit snotty from the cold.

  Lex was standing silently watching us, but now said, ‘Hi, Flower.’

  Moonflower blushed and simpered, and I suppose you really couldn’t blame her, because he looked like every dark and conflicted romantic hero rolled into one. I’d have fallen for him myself if I hadn’t already been there, done that and burned the T-shirt.

  ‘How’s your mum?’ she asked me.

  ‘I don’t know. She went to India to work in a friend’s bar about eight years ago, but then took off to explore somewhere and never went back. We know she meant to, because she left most of her stuff behind, but she just vanished.’

  ‘And you haven’t heard a thing since?’

  ‘No, it’s a complete mystery. River went out there to see if he could find any trace of her, but nothing.’

  ‘She must have died, then,’ suggested Moonflower tactlessly. Empathy had never been her middle name.

  That was my greatest fear too, though I still hoped for the best. ‘River doesn’t think so, but she might have had an accident, and then, since she left her passport and papers back at the bar where she was living, they wouldn’t have known who she was. The trail was cold by the time River tried to find her, but he’s sure she’ll turn up again.’

  ‘I remember now that you told us your mother had vanished. It’s very sad, my dear,’ said Henry kindly.

  ‘It is, though actually I’d never seen much of her while I was growing up anyway, because she was such a free spirit,’ I explained. ‘She turned up at the Farm occasionally and was bright and fun … and then, after a while, off she’d go again.’

  Lex, who clearly had no idea of my past, was looking at me curiously.

  ‘Who brought you up, then?’ he asked.

  ‘The commune in Wales at River’s Farm, where I was born. River’s been a grandfather to me and two of the founder members of the commune, Maj and Kenny, were like parents. And then there’s Oshan, River’s son, who is my brother.’ Seeing Lex was still staring at me, I added, ‘It all worked very well and I had a very happy and secure childhood.’

  ‘Oh, I loved it at the Farm, too!’ Moonflower agreed. ‘I cried for a week when we moved on.’

  ‘I’d no idea about your background,’ said Lex. ‘That explains a lot!’

  ‘Like what?’ I demanded, but at that moment the baby woke up and made loud grizzling noises, while trying to fight her way out of the footmuff.

  Flower said she’d better get home and feed her.

  ‘Come and have coffee one day,’ she said to me. ‘Meet Bilbo.’

  ‘Oh, thanks, Moonflower, that would be lovely.’

  ‘Call me Flower; everyone else does. And we’ve some nice things in the shop, too, if you need any presents,’ she added hopefully.

  Presents? Well, I’d brought the hamper of jams and chutneys, either as a general house gift or a sweetener if I managed to get away after the Solstice, but I hadn’t thought of individual Christmas presents.

  But then, I’d no intention of still being at the Red House over Christmas, so I wouldn’t need them, would I?

  Back at the house, Lex and Teddy dealt with the muddy and very smelly spaniel and Henry vanished into his study with a vague smile.

  I changed into something already spattered in oil paint and then Clara dictated a chapter of the crime novel while I worked on her portrait until lunch called. Or at least, it called Clara, because as usual I’d forgotten the time.

  Lex was in the hall when we passed through it, taking the lids off the boxes of decorations. He looked up.

  ‘There you are! I was just going to remind you about lunch, because we’ve had ours and we’re going to start on the trees in a minute.’

  ‘I forget the time. It’s my fault we’re late,’ I said.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, because this portrait’s going to be wonderful,’ enthused Clara. ‘There’s magic in you, to draw out things about myself I didn’t even know existed, Meg.’

  ‘There always was,’ Lex said. ‘She won Young Portrait Artist of the Year soon after she started her Fine Art degree.’

  I was surprised he remembered that, and I wondered if he was slowly starting to see the real me again – or the version he knew long ago – rather than the false one he’d built up in his mind over the ensuing years.

  �
��Where are the others?’ asked Clara, breaking into my thoughts.

  ‘Teddy and Henry are in his study, choosing the decorations for the drawing-room tree. Sybil rode up leading the other horse and she and Tottie have gone for a hack, but she said she’d be back in plenty of time for tree-topping.’

  I had no idea what he meant by the tree-topping, unless it was just that the entire household needed to be present when the final decoration went on the top?

  ‘Right, then, we’ll just have a quick bite to eat and then be back to help,’ she said.

  The soup was onion, topped with bread and toasted cheese and we ate it to some basso profundo snoring from Lass, who lay clean, crinkly and exhausted, in her basket by the stove.

  Den was about to go back to his flat, and admonished us not to touch the Madeira cake cooling on the rack.

  ‘You can have some fer tea, but ’alf of it’s fer the trifle, ain’t it?’

  ‘Oh, good,’ said Clara as the door closed behind him. ‘He makes an excellent trifle with Tottie’s bottled raspberries and a good layer of custard.’

  Then, as I laid down my spoon, she rose and said energetically, ‘Come on, let’s help decorate the trees. It’s such fun!’

  16

  Illuminations

  I was now looking forward to the tree decorating, Lex or no Lex, and I think the Christmas magic was starting to slowly seep into my psyche.

  The sound of Christmas carols was drifting sweetly out from the drawing room and Lex was up a very tall stepladder, winding fairy lights into the Norwegian pine, with Henry and Teddy assisting, or at any rate, offering advice.

  ‘There you are, my dear,’ said Henry. ‘Lex’s already put the lights on the little tree, and Teddy and I are about to get on with decorating it. Then we’ll come and help you with this monster, won’t we, Teddy?’

  Teddy, who was pink-cheeked and excited, nodded. ‘You mustn’t come into the drawing room until it’s finished, though, Meg!’

  ‘All right, I won’t. I love a surprise.’

  ‘We’re leaving the door open, but no peeking.’

  ‘Cross my heart,’ I assured him solemnly.

  He and Henry vanished into the drawing room, while Lex, once he’d wound the fairy lights from top to bottom of the tree, began to help us sort out the baubles.

  There were loads of the brightly coloured round plastic ones with faceted, mirrored sides, in every colour you could imagine. They came in three sizes and I began to hang the smallest at the top of the tree by going up the stairs and leaning over the rail, while Lex did the other side from the top of the rickety-looking wooden stepladder.

  Clara started at the bottom with the largest of the baubles and met us in the middle with the medium ones.

  There was a lot of going to and fro between the two rooms – for the scissors, or silk ribbon, or plastic hanging hooks – but I kept my promise and didn’t even glance through the open door.

  Den had returned at some point and sat on the wide bottom step of the stairs, unknotting a huge tangled rainbow of old tinsel. Slowly he extracted each strand and rolled it up into a coil: silver, gold, green, blue, red and brightest royal purple.

  Teddy emerged from the drawing room and demanded all the silver and gold tinsel, but this must have been the final touch, for we were summoned in to admire their tree shortly afterwards.

  It had grown dark, so the curtains were drawn, but the lights had been switched off so we could appreciate the full effect of the illuminated tree.

  It looked so magical glowing out of the darkness that it took my breath away. The odd shapes of the old ornaments came alive and sparkled crazily. Bunches of purple grapes and green-capped pixies jostled with bears, spotted dogs and Santas. Small coloured spheres with deep, silvered conical indentations reflected the lights and there were icicles of clear twisted glass. Birds of all shapes perched among the branches with their long, white, spun-glass tails balancing their silvered bodies.

  The metallic tinsel zigzagged down from top to bottom, like a mountain road sparkling in the rain, and on the very top of the tree was a small fairy with a skirt of crinkled pink crepe paper over a layer of white net.

  When we’d praised it enough for Teddy’s satisfaction we all returned to the hall to finish the big tree together, though now the first baubles had been placed, this one seemed more a race to see how many of the other ornaments we could fit on it.

  ‘I’ve forgotten the chocolate decorations,’ Clara said, suddenly. ‘They’re in one of my desk drawers.’

  ‘The chocolate only goes on the big tree,’ Henry explained to me. ‘And well out of reach of Lass.’

  Clara came back with the goodies: net bags of golden coins, little bundles of foil-wrapped chocolate parcels tied up with silver string and a big bag of assorted chocolate shapes – bells, candles, snowmen, Santas, reindeer and stars – with loops for hanging.

  ‘Father Christmas puts one of those big bags of chocolate coins at the bottom of my stocking every year, with a tangerine,’ said Teddy. ‘I think he steals the tangerine when he comes in, because last year I counted all the ones in the fruit bowl before I went to bed, and in the morning there was one missing.’

  Behind him, Henry winked at me.

  ‘Perhaps he can’t get enough of them in the sleigh, what with all those toys?’ I suggested. We might not have ever celebrated Christmas at the Farm, but once out in the world there was no escaping the knowledge of things like Father Christmas’s seasonal delivery service, with his red coat and sleigh … not to mention the relentless urging to spend ever more money on presents.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Teddy said, after giving this idea his serious attention. ‘It’s a magic sleigh.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Lex said. ‘But perhaps he keeps the ones in the sleigh for houses where there aren’t any.’

  This seemed to satisfy Teddy and we all joined in hanging up the chocolates above dog level, and some just above Teddy level too, so he wasn’t tempted to overindulge and make himself sick.

  We’d just finished when Tottie came back, her cheeks red from the cold. She was still wearing breeches and a heavy polo-neck jumper, but she had removed her riding boots and was just in grey ribbed woollen socks.

  ‘It’s starting to freeze hard and one of the farm tractors is out with a gritter,’ she told us.

  ‘You’re back in perfect time, Tottie,’ said Clara. ‘We’ve only this second put the chocolate decorations on the tree, so it’s ready for the finishing touch.’

  Henry vanished into his study and emerged carrying the antique papier mâché Santa that Tottie had so misguidedly tarted up with glitter and cotton wool in her youth.

  Now she took it from him and climbed the stairs until she could reach over and ceremoniously place it over the topmost spike of the tree.

  ‘Hurray! Let the Christmas revels begin,’ called Henry, and everyone clapped. Tottie gave a mock bow and came back down.

  ‘Right, let’s turn on the fairy lights and off with the hall ones,’ said Clara. Lex plunged everything into darkness except for the illuminated magic of the tall tree, which seemed to float in the air like some enchanted vision of fairyland.

  ‘Oh, it’s so beautiful!’ I sighed. ‘Both trees are, but in different ways.’

  ‘When I was a little girl we had the old-fashioned candles in crimped metal holders that clipped to the ends of the branches, but we only lit them briefly and Daddy would stand by with a bucket of sand and the soda siphon, just in case,’ said Tottie.

  ‘We had those too,’ said Clara. ‘Mother was petrified the house would go up in flames.’

  ‘I wouldn’t even have electric lights on the tree when I lived here on my own,’ said Tottie. ‘The early ones were a bit dodgy.’

  ‘Well, they’re all quite safe now, especially since the house has been rewired,’ said Clara. ‘Those two-pin sockets and plugs belonged in a museum.’

  ‘They were in my rooms over the garage before the place was done up,’
said Den.

  ‘Grooms and chauffeurs can’t have expected much in the way of home comforts back in the twenties and thirties,’ said Clara.

  ‘Only cold water plumbing, too, poor bustards,’ said Den.

  ‘Is bast—’ began Teddy, interestedly, but Tottie interrupted him hastily.

  ‘Never you mind, Teddy. It’s just another one of those Den words that you can’t use until you’re bigger than he is.’

  ‘At the rate he’s growing, that’s not going to be long,’ Lex pointed out.

  ‘The house became so much brighter and warmer after you and Henry bought it,’ Tottie said. ‘And all those lovely bathrooms, too! Funny how you don’t notice the lack of things like that in a house where you’ve lived your whole life.’

  ‘I agree. The Farm is up in the Black Mountains and when I was a little girl it would often be quite chilly in winter,’ I said. ‘It was heated by only a range and a couple of wood-burning stoves back then, but it’s all changed now, especially since River embraced solar power and had loads of panels put in.’

  ‘I look forward to meeting your grandfather when he comes for the Solstice and hearing all about the Farm,’ said Henry.

  ‘Yes, I’m looking forward to his arrival, too,’ said Lex enigmatically, with a look at me that I interpreted as meaning that he looked forward to it because it would mark the date of my imminent departure from the Red House and his life.

  Teddy said he thought it was mean of River not to celebrate Christmas properly. ‘Uncle Henry says you’ve never had a real one!’

  ‘We celebrated the Solstice and then had a lovely Yule feast instead,’ I told him. ‘That was fun, too.’

  ‘But Father Christmas didn’t bring you presents, did he?’

  ‘No, but we always exchange gifts on the first night of the feasting, usually things we’ve made ourselves.’

  ‘I think real Christmas sounds much more fun,’ he insisted.

  Lex switched the ceiling lights on again and we blinked, back in the real world. The hall was richly redolent with the wonderful scent of pine.

  A rattle heralded the arrival of Den with the inevitable tea trolley.