by Heidi Swain
‘Will you want one boiled egg to go with your cereal, or two?’ asked Dorothy from her station in front of the Aga.
‘No eggs for me, Dorothy,’ I insisted, ‘but thank you.’
‘Perhaps a couple of slices of toast and honey, then?’ she suggested, whipping a loaf out of the old-fashioned bread bin. ‘It’s granary, homemade.’
‘All right,’ I caved, ‘but please, I can get it myself.’
Dorothy shook her head.
‘I cook and serve the breakfasts,’ she explained. ‘You lot deal with the dishes while I take Floss for a walk around the garden.’
That sounded fair enough.
‘Do you think Catherine and Angus would mind if I went for a run around the grounds in the mornings?’ I asked.
‘A run?’
‘Yes, I like to get a few kilometres behind me before the day starts,’ I explained. ‘That way keeping in shape doesn’t interfere with my duties. Do you think they’d mind?’
‘I wouldn’t have thought so,’ she shrugged, eyeing me shrewdly. ‘I’ve been wondering how you keep so trim.’
‘Well, now you know,’ I smiled.
‘Oh look out,’ she tutted, cocking her head to listen as the back door opened and was then slammed shut. ‘Here we go. Brace yourself, my dear, here comes the north wind.’
‘Morning,’ said Hayley, breezing in and bringing with her a blast of what felt like Arctic air. ‘Anna, you look like—’
‘Careful,’ warned Mick, who had traipsed in behind her.
‘Well,’ she said, considering the dark circles under my eyes before speaking again. ‘You look knackered. Did you not sleep? And what’s all this about you not wanting to come to the switch-on tonight?’
For someone who had known me for less than a day, she certainly didn’t hold back. Tact, I guessed, was an unknown concept to someone as straightforward as Hayley.
Dorothy shot Mick a look behind her back and he shrugged and mouthed ‘sorry’ to me.
‘Good morning, Hayley,’ I said. ‘No, I didn’t sleep particularly well, but I rarely do in a new bed and I am coming to the switch-on.’
‘Well now,’ she said, reaching across the table and grabbing the two rounds of toast that I had just lightly buttered, ‘that’s all right then. So what was all the fuss about, Mick?’
‘There was no fuss,’ he said exasperatedly. ‘I told her there was no fuss, Anna. I just said that for some reason, to begin with, you didn’t fancy coming to town.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I said, guessing that Hayley liked to make a drama about anything she could. ‘It’s fine and I’m definitely coming tonight, so that’s that.’
I realised I was going to have to watch my step as far as Hayley was concerned. I got the distinct impression that she could winkle out secrets in a heartbeat and I had absolutely no intention of letting anyone know why I was planning to work my way through Christmas for the umpteenth year on the trot.
After preparing a breakfast tray for me to take to Catherine, Dorothy took Floss for her walk and Hayley, having pointed me in the direction of the room referred to as the morning room, charged off to finish the dishes and begin her mammoth vacuuming session. There was no sign of Angus anywhere.
I knocked quietly on the door and reversed inside to avoid bumping the tray. Catherine was sitting at a desk in the window staring intently at a large photograph in a silver frame.
‘Oh my goodness,’ she gasped, when she saw what I was carrying. ‘Now this is a treat; normally we all eat breakfast together in the kitchen, but I seem to have lost track of the time this morning. This all looks lovely,’ she added, taking a peek at the carefully laid-out tray. ‘Very Downton Abbey.’
‘It was Dorothy’s idea,’ I told her. ‘Shall I pour your tea?’
‘Yes please,’ she said, ‘but two cups. You will join me, Anna, won’t you?’
Her suggestion was yet another nod to the unusual nature of the Connelly household. The breakfast tray might have been Downton Abbey, but the relaxed attitude was definitely Wynthorpe Hall.
‘All right,’ I agreed. ‘Thank you. Then perhaps we can talk through what it is you would like me to help you with while I am here.’
‘Oh there’s no rush,’ she said, waving the idea away. ‘I’m sure we’ll come up with something for you to do at some point.’
I was beginning to wonder if I was actually going to have to work for my living at the hall at all.
Once Catherine was comfortably settled, and I had poured us both tea, I sat on the edge of the sofa opposite with my cup and saucer.
‘So, what do you make of our three boys?’ she asked, nodding towards the photograph that had held her attention when I came in. ‘They’re a handsome trio, don’t you think? Or is that just a doting mother’s bias talking?’
I put down my tea and went over to the desk. Three Connelly brothers laughed up at me. They were all certainly handsome, the perfect combination of Angus’s mischievous personality and Catherine’s stately features, but hardly boys. These guys were all somewhere in their thirties, possibly even forties.
‘That’s Christopher on the right,’ Catherine explained. ‘He’s our eldest and by far the most sensible, now married with two sons of his own. He celebrated his fortieth this summer. Jamie is on the left,’
‘It’s Jamie who’s travelling, isn’t it?’ I asked, taking in the abundant freckles and foppish hair. He was very handsome and, looking at his eyes, I couldn’t help wishing the photograph was in colour rather than black and white.
‘That’s right,’ said Catherine, an edge of melancholy creeping into her tone. ‘I was rather hoping he would have come home by now, but . . .’
Her voice trailed off and I stole a quick glance in her direction. Just like the evening before, when we had been eating in the kitchen and talk had turned to her absent son, she looked incredibly sad.
‘And that’s Archie,’ she said, with a nod back to the photo. ‘He’s the middle son, currently living, and allegedly working, in London.’
She sighed, but didn’t add anything else, and I was left with the distinct impression that there was definitely more to the relationship between these three brothers than the photograph let on. From the little I knew for myself of family life, it didn’t seem to me to matter where you lived or what your social standing happened to be, it was usually complicated, occasionally excruciating, and personally, in that moment, I felt blessed not to be troubled by it.
We sat quietly for a while, each lost in our own thoughts as Catherine finished her breakfast.
‘Do you know what I would really like to do this morning?’ she asked when I had taken the tray back to the kitchen.
I had always been proud of the fact that I could second-guess the wants and needs of those I worked for, but this was going to prove a tricky question to answer, given that this time yesterday I hadn’t even met Catherine. I played for time, straightening the cushions, and thought back over the conversation from the night before.
‘My guess is that you’d like to get outside and perhaps have a look at the garden,’ I eventually began. I was instantly encouraged by the smile that lit up her face and continued, ‘because you said yourself last night that you’ve hardly been out since you came home from the hospital and you probably want to see if your knee will stand up to walking about on uneven terrain before we go into town this evening.’
‘Well I never,’ she laughed, clapping her hands. ‘Bravo, Anna, bravo!’
We took a leisurely stroll around a small part of the gardens, stopping to admire the fiery skeletons of the dogwoods in all their winter glory and watch the blackbirds squabbling over the remains of the glossy red pyracantha berries. The fog had finally begun to thin and it was just about possible to make out the watery outline of the sun, but it was still bitterly cold.
‘Let’s go and sit in the summerhouse in the fern garden,’ suggested Catherine, who appeared much invigorated by the bracing air and birdsong. ‘We can see how
the hellebores are coming along.’
Sitting in the little house at the furthest end of the currently dormant fern garden, Catherine was grateful for the blanket and flask I had brought out with us.
‘Now,’ she began, sounding concerned. ‘About this trip to town tonight, Anna, if you really don’t want to go, I won’t mind.’
‘No,’ I fibbed, ‘it’s fine, honestly. I don’t mind at all. Last night I was just tired from the journey and didn’t think I’d be up to it, but I’m feeling much better today.’
‘But you said you didn’t want to go because you don’t like crowds,’ Catherine frowned. ‘And I wouldn’t want to put you in a position where you felt uncomfortable.’
My mum had been right – you should never tell lies. Now, not only was I feeling guilty for lying, I had also made someone else feel responsible for putting me in an awkward position, which they weren’t. My problem was dealing with Christmas. Christmas trees were a nightmare, Christmas carols sounded like hell on earth and Christmas lights were annoyingly upbeat, but coping with crowds I could manage no problem.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I insisted, but truth be told I was a little aggrieved that my overwhelming desire to distance myself from all things festive had already landed me in a tight spot in a job where I hadn’t for one second imagined it was ever going to be an issue.
‘Well, as long as you’re really sure?’ Catherine quizzed.
‘I promise,’ I told her, my fingers crossed in my jacket pocket, ‘but how about we take my car along with the Land Rover instead of Angus’s? That way,’ I proposed, ‘if you get too tired or I start to flag again, we can come back together, under our own steam, without having to trouble everyone else.’
‘That sounds like a wonderful idea,’ she agreed. ‘And that way, everyone will be happy.’
Not quite, I thought, but I was going to do my utmost to make it look that way.
Walking around the bustling little market town of Wynbridge arm in arm with Catherine that evening, I felt it was a shame that every blow life had dealt me had struck when the Advent calendar was putting in an appearance, because the switch-on would have been the perfect event to stock up on Christmas spirit.
The place was awash with smiling families, excited children, exquisite handmade gifts (many of which, I discovered, were made by Lizzie from The Cherry Tree Café), and enticing aromas. The carollers were perfectly in tune, the gingerbread families were fabulously frosted, and even the clouds had cleared to give the firework display a celestial backdrop.
It was quite a blow to acknowledge that my pain and bitterness towards the season was for the first time ever tinged with sadness because I was unable to properly join in. I didn’t know how to. I had spent so long avoiding such gatherings that I had forgotten how they worked. I had forgotten how it felt to be looking forward to something so wholeheartedly, and that wasn’t just me being over-the-top, Hayley-style melodramatic. My Christmas cheer really was beyond reach and, given the fluttery feeling in my chest, my heart rate was heading a little out of control.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Catherine, as I let out a long breath to try and calm my nerves.
I pulled myself out of my reverie, knowing it was my job, quite literally, to be asking her that question.
‘Yes,’ I said, pulling the cheery smile back into place. ‘I’m fine. Just still a bit shell-shocked from seeing Angus take that lap around the square in his sleigh at such speed.’
Angus had thoroughly enjoyed playing the role of a very jolly Santa Claus, and the children he had handed out the presents to were completely convinced of his authenticity.
‘He was rather good, wasn’t he?’ laughed Catherine. ‘Even better I think than the last time he did it.’
‘So this wasn’t his first appearance then?’
‘No,’ she explained, ‘and it won’t be his last either. There was a problem one year when it was discovered the former Santa preferred rum to reindeers. Steve stepped into the breach on that occasion but now the role belongs to Angus and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he doesn’t commandeer that sleigh for the hall.’
She sounded really rather concerned but I couldn’t help thinking it was more likely to end up in the stable yard, along with all the other bits and pieces that had briefly held his attention over the years, rather than being pulled around the gardens.
‘Oh look,’ she said, banishing the thought, ‘there’s Ruby. Ruby!’ she called.
‘Hello!’ shouted back a pretty dark-haired girl, dragging a man who I guessed was her other half and one time Santa, Steve, behind her.
‘It’s so lovely to see you,’ beamed Catherine, pulling her into a hug. ‘And you, Steve. What an honour to be asked to turn the lights on this year! Gosh, you both look amazing.’
‘Well thank you,’ said the pair, grinning at each other with unadulterated adoration.
‘So tell me,’ asked Catherine, ‘how was the world?’
‘Exhilarating,’ laughed Ruby.
‘Enchanting,’ added Steve.
‘But surely Jamie has told you all that?’ said Ruby, looking over her shoulder as if she expected the man himself to appear.
‘No,’ Catherine sighed, her smile suddenly faltering. ‘He hasn’t come home yet.’
‘Oh,’ said Ruby, looking surprised. ‘When I spoke to Mum about him a couple of months ago I got the impression that he was going to be back at Wynthorpe well before winter.’
‘Well, that’s what we thought too for a while,’ said Catherine sadly. ‘Anyway,’ she added, turning to me. ‘Anna, please forgive my shocking manners. Ruby and Steve, I would like to introduce you to the newest member of the Wynthorpe team. This is Anna. She only arrived yesterday, but she’s already part of the family.’
I felt very flattered to be referred to as family and my curiosity regarding the reason behind Jamie’s prolonged absence from home was now well and truly piqued.
‘Hello, Anna,’ said the pair in perfect unison.
‘Hello,’ I smiled back.
‘So,’ said Steve, ‘how long are you planning to stay at the hall?’
‘Literally just a few weeks,’ I explained. ‘I’ll be long gone by mid-January.’
‘That’s what they all say, isn’t it?’ he laughed, reminding me of the comments Mick and Hayley had made the day before.
Catherine nodded, but didn’t contradict him.
‘I don’t know about you,’ she said instead, ‘but I think it’s getting far too cold to stand about out here. I think we should all go and find a cosy spot in The Mermaid.’
‘Sounds good to us,’ chorused the happy couple.
The pub was warm, busy and, for me at least, a welcoming refuge from the carols and chaos in the market square. The delicious cider, mulled and infused with an extra hit of cinnamon, soon chased away the chill and within a few minutes the entire Wynthorpe clan, along with Ruby and Steve, were gathered around the fire, fussing over Catherine and comparing purchases from the market.
‘I found these on the Cherry Tree stall,’ said Dorothy, holding up two strings of pretty bunting made from scraps of festive fabric. ‘I thought they would look lovely in the kitchen, above the Aga perhaps?’
‘And these,’ butted in Hayley, producing a pair of slightly overstuffed felt robins and some cellophane-wrapped bags of fudge, ‘were from the primary school stall. Not that I expect the fudge will make it until the first of December, let alone Christmas Day!’
When everyone had finished emptying out their bags, all eyes turned to me.
‘Didn’t you buy anything?’ frowned Hayley, checking out the empty space around my feet.
‘No,’ I said, my voice catching in my throat and inconvenient tears springing up out of nowhere. ‘Not tonight.’
I tried to look relaxed and was determined to play down the fact that I wasn’t at all comfortable to have been singled out as a purchase-free zone.
‘Wynbridge is the perfect place to buy locally made presents,’
Dorothy rushed on. ‘We have so many talented craftspeople here in town, you know.’
‘Not even one thing?’ Hayley persisted doggedly.
‘No,’ I said again, sinking further back into the sofa cushions in the hope that they would swallow me up. ‘I didn’t need anything.’
‘Don’t you have anyone to buy for?’ Hayley pounced.
I sat back up again.
‘I hardly think that’s any of your business, do you?’ I snapped.
I shook my head, hating myself for losing my temper. It was so unlike me, and poor Hayley looked mortified. I think she was as shocked by my outburst as I was.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I quickly apologised as she and Dorothy exchanged glances. ‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off.’
Catherine sat up a little straighter and levelled her gaze at her youngest employee.
‘I’m quite sure that Anna is perfectly organised, thank you, Hayley,’ she said, sounding almost stern. ‘She’s no doubt finished her Christmas shopping already. Isn’t that right, dear?’
Her suggestion couldn’t have been any further from the truth of course, but I wasn’t about to admit it, especially not with Hayley hanging on my every word, although I did feel bad for getting her in trouble.
‘Yes,’ I lied. ‘I’m all set.’
‘Well, that’s all right then,’ Hayley shrugged, her cheeks glowing as she eyed me curiously. ‘For a second there I thought I’d put my foot in it. I had you down as a right old Billy-no-mates. Now, who wants another cider?’
Chapter 4
It was really rather fortunate that Mick had decided not to join the rest of us drinking cider that evening as the brew turned out to be far headier than I first realised. When it was time to head off I was surprised to find that even though I had supped very little compared to some, my legs were a bit wobbly and there was no way I was going to drive myself back to the hall. Legally I was undoubtedly under the limit but I certainly wouldn’t have felt comfortable climbing back behind the wheel.
‘Don’t you worry about it, Anna,’ Mick reassured me as he, Hayley and I wandered over to the market square after The Mermaid had closed. ‘You can come back with me now and we’ll pick your car up later tomorrow.’
