by Heidi Swain
‘Well that’s something, I suppose,’ Dorothy sniffed.
‘Excellent,’ laughed Jamie. ‘Has the post been?’
‘It’s on the side,’ said Dorothy, brandishing her wooden spoon in the general direction.
‘This one’s for you, Anna,’ he said, sorting through the pile.
‘Me?’ I questioned. ‘But no one knows I’m here.’ And more to the point, I had no one to send me anything.
‘It’s for you via me,’ Jamie explained. ‘It’s your second festive present.’
‘Second?’ said Hayley, her eyebrows shooting up and a teasing smile playing around her lips. ‘My, my, and it isn’t even Christmas yet!’
I looked at her and shook my head. On more than one occasion she had tried to trip me up and make me confess my true feelings for Jamie but I was having none of it. She was also convinced that he harboured not entirely professional feelings for me, but I wasn’t getting drawn into discussing that theory either. The lid was staying firmly shut on that particular box. I ripped open the packaging and pulled out a journal and a pack of Christmas-themed stickers.
‘It’s for you to write in,’ Jamie grinned. ‘I thought it would be a good idea for you to write down all the things you’ve loved about Christmas this year so that if you waver about celebrating again in the future you’ll have something to remind you that it isn’t really all bad.’
‘Thank you,’ I swallowed. ‘What a lovely idea.’
‘It’s inspired,’ Hayley winked. ‘You must have really given that some thought, Jamie.’
That night, just as I was about to excuse myself and head off to the sanctuary of my room and another chapter of the Trisha Ashley novel we had borrowed from the library in town, and which was proving irresistible, Jamie spoke up before I had a chance.
‘Now tonight,’ he said, pulling Hayley’s laden carrier bag out from under his chair and plonking it on the table, ‘I’m offering a slight alteration to the evening’s usual entertainment.’
‘Oh yes?’ said Dorothy, her eyes fixed firmly on the bag. ‘And just what exactly is it that you’re proposing?’
‘Film night,’ he announced, carefully tipping out what looked like at least twenty DVDs. ‘Christmas film night, to be precise,’ he added, looking purposefully at me. ‘I thought it might get us all in the spirit a bit. Gee us all up for the big day and give Anna here something to write about in her new journal.’
‘It’s a lovely idea,’ said Catherine, stifling a yawn, ‘but if you don’t mind, dear, your father and I will pass on this occasion.’
‘But—’ began Angus.
‘But nothing,’ said Catherine.
She had a tone of voice, I had discovered, which although soft brooked no refusal. Not even from her husband.
‘I think we can all of us agree that the one person sitting at this table who doesn’t require further “geeing up” as you put it, Jamie, is your father.’
‘You do have a point, my dear,’ Angus grinned. ‘In fact, if I don’t dial the excitement down a bit I think I might be in very real danger of peaking even before the rest of the family get here!’
‘Fair enough,’ said Jamie, smiling at his mum. ‘I’ll let you off this time, Dad, for Mum’s sake if nothing else.’
‘Thank you,’ said Catherine, sounding a little relieved.
‘And what about you, Anna?’ Jamie asked. ‘You’re up for it, aren’t you?’
It was amusing that he was even asking because given the deal we’d struck up I knew I had absolutely no option but to join in with what he was suggesting.
‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘I think it’s a great idea. I can’t remember the last time I watched a festive film.’
That wasn’t true at all, I suddenly realised, because I could pinpoint exactly the last such film I’d watched and when. Snuggled up in Mum’s bed we’d watched Bob Hope in The Lemon Drop Kid for the millionth time. It was the last time I had heard her sing Silver Bells and I hoped to goodness that wasn’t one of the DVDs Jamie had lined up, but if the bag had come from Hayley’s collection then I reckoned I’d be safe. Home Alone was much more her line, I was sure.
‘And you can count me in,’ said Dorothy eagerly. ‘It’ll make a change from listening to the radio.’
‘And me,’ said Mick, stretching in his chair. ‘Although I can’t promise I’ll still be awake by the time it’s finished.’
‘So, what have you got lined up for us then?’ I asked with a nervous nod towards the teetering tower of cases.
‘I thought we’d ease in gently,’ said Jamie, clearly more for my benefit than anyone else’s. ‘It isn’t strictly a Christmas film, but it’s a classic, and in my experience everyone loves it.’
‘Bridget Jones,’ I laughed as he brandished the case, ‘perfect.’
‘You boys go and get the fire stoked up then,’ said Dorothy, with a fine disregard for sexual equality, ‘and Anna and I will make the popcorn.’
The evening was such a success, apart from Mick snoring his way through the opening credits and beyond, that I agreed we could repeat the experience every other night from then until the family arrived, and possibly beyond if they were interested.
Snuggled on the sofa next to Jamie, sharing a blanket and a ginormous bowl of maple-syrup-flavoured popcorn, with Dorothy quietly crocheting in another chair until she started to drop off and took herself to bed, was, in my opinion, a wonderful way to while away a December evening. I was touched to discover that Jamie had numbered the DVD cases to keep me feeling that way. Bridget Jones was number one, while National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation came in at number nineteen. Apparently, the more intense the festive family fun, the higher the number.
‘And we’ll be watching them in order,’ Jamie said seriously. ‘There’ll be no skipping numbers. Over-exposure would be a major setback to your progress.’
‘Is that right?’ I smiled.
‘It is,’ he insisted. ‘We have to take things nice and slow.’
My stomach gave a flip as I thought of all the things I would like to take ‘nice and slow’ with my employers’ son, along with a few that would be better going as fast as a steam engine. This whole love/lust thing I was feeling was a huge inconvenience, but I was just about managing to keep a lid on it, most of the time.
I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and decided to let myself off just this once. Given our close proximity and the fact that I had just watched Bridget secure her happy-ever-after, my own feelings were bound to come to the fore, even if they were misplaced.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’m very touched that you care so much about my progress and that you’re taking my wellbeing so seriously.’
‘Oh I don’t care a jot about that,’ he joked, pulling my half of the blanket over to him. ‘I just want to win.’
‘Win?’ I said, trying to pull the blanket back.
‘Yes,’ he said, tugging harder. ‘It’s imperative that I make you fall in love with Christmas far harder than you make me fall in love with the hall, remember?’
‘Oh right,’ I said. ‘I see. It’s like that, is it?’
‘Absolutely,’ he said, ripping the blanket right out of my hands. ‘I will be victorious.’
Well, we’d see about that, wouldn’t we?
As it turned out, ‘falling in love with Christmas’ wasn’t the tricky part of the deal and I soon came to realise that Jamie’s endeavours to get me to join in the Connelly Christmas were actually the easy bit. When it came down to it, I could manage to cope with the ‘trimmings’, the festive films and leftover rolls of wrapping paper. My problems surrounding the season ran far deeper and were flagged up to me in horrid and exacting detail the afternoon Angus asked me to look in the lofts with him for the boxes of decorations.
To be honest, I hadn’t really been up for the expedition at all, but Mick had taken himself off to the woods and Catherine was keen to ensure her husband had a chaperone.
‘You don’t mind, do you, Anna dear?’ she wh
ispered. ‘Only it would be such a comfort to know where he is for the afternoon and exactly what he’s up to.’
She had a point. We hadn’t been able to keep proper track of him for days and still had no idea where all the parcels he had been taking away had disappeared to.
‘All right,’ I reluctantly agreed. ‘But only if you promise not to do anything too strenuous while I’m gone.’
I had barely spent any time at all acting as either Catherine’s carer or companion, but no one seemed to mind, least of all the lady herself, who found more comfort knowing what her husband was about than having me hanging on to her coattails at every turn.
‘I promise,’ she said. ‘I have about a thousand Christmas cards to write so that should keep me out of mischief for a while.’
I don’t know what I had been expecting, but the space referred to as ‘the lofts’ at Wynthorpe Hall bore absolutely no resemblance to those I had encountered before, accessed via a metal ladder and a hole in a ceiling that was always slightly too small. The lofts at the hall were in fact a series of rooms at the back of the property which had once been servants’ quarters and were reached by a full-size staircase and a proper door.
‘Oh my goodness,’ I gasped as Angus flicked a switch, lighting up a long corridor which had doors leading off left and right.
‘Don’t worry,’ he chuckled. ‘She won’t bite.’
Slowly I took in the grand space assigned to storage and then the shocking spectacle Angus was fondly patting.
‘What on earth?’ I spluttered, my hand flying up to my chest.
‘I know,’ said Angus, still laughing. ‘I should have warned you. I keep meaning to get Mick to help me move her, but she’s such a weight. Perhaps if Jamie helps as well . . .’
Standing erect at what must have been well over seven foot was a real, but thankfully stuffed, brown bear, complete with bonnet, shawl and shopping basket.
‘This is Dolores,’ said Angus fondly by way of introduction. ‘She’s been in the family for ever.’
Given her age she looked incredibly well preserved.
‘And she’s dressed for the shops because?’ I asked, my eyes drawn to her sharp teeth and claws.
‘That’s Catherine’s fault, I’m afraid,’ Angus explained. ‘When my good lady wife was a little girl she was terrified of this poor old bear, who had pride of place in the dining room.’
I didn’t blame her. I was a full-grown woman and I was pretty frightened myself.
‘So,’ Angus continued, ‘her mother thought it might help if she dressed her up and gave her a name.’
‘And did it work? Was Catherine any less terrified?’
‘No,’ said Angus, sounding surprised. ‘Apparently not, and as soon as she took over the running of the hall she had dear old Dolores banished from sight.’
He sounded rather regretful about that and I imagined he would be all in favour of having her reinstated if he got the chance. I didn’t ask for fear of setting off a chain of thought that would see the old bear dressed up as Santa to amuse the grandchildren. And probably give them and me nightmares for a month.
‘She’s quite a weight,’ he went on, ‘and an awkward shape. It isn’t easy manoeuvring her while avoiding her claws and teeth, so this is as far as she’s got.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’m sure Catherine is happier to have her out of sight. Do you think we should get on? Dorothy will want to serve tea soon.’
It hadn’t taken many nights under the Connellys’ roof for my calorie-counting routine to slip and a new one, which revolved around the delights of the kitchen table, to step up and take its place. I made a mental note to extend mine and Jamie’s early-morning running route by an extra few hundred metres, lest the extra padding really did decide to stick.
‘That’s a very good point,’ said Angus, fondly patting Dolores on the arm one last time before wombling off down the corridor, muttering under his breath.
I followed on behind, taking in the laminated alphabetical signs that were attached to each of the doors. Someone had instated quite a storage system up in these ‘lofts’.
‘This was all Catherine’s idea,’ said Angus when we reached the room marked ‘C’. ‘We haven’t got enough rooms for every letter, of course, but oddly enough there isn’t much point in designating an entire space to each of them.’
‘What, like “X” and “Z”?’ I guessed.
‘Exactly,’ he nodded. ‘Although the zebra does take up a fair bit of space.’
I really hoped he was talking about a cuddly toy.
Along with a couple of dozen boxes marked ‘Christmas’, the ‘C’ room also contained cots, curtains, cushions and curios and, not surprisingly, it wasn’t many minutes before Angus was diving into all the boxes and the purpose of our visit was completely forgotten.
‘Well, well, well,’ he chuckled. ‘What are these doing here?’
Neatly stacked next to a box marked ‘cameras’ were packets and packets of photographs.
‘Looks like Catherine’s system has had a slight malfunction.’
He sounded almost delighted and made the announcement with a wink. I felt sure he would have favoured a far more random approach to storage, had he been able to get away with it.
‘This lot should be in the “P” room, surely?’
I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t. All the time I had spent avoiding the cinnamon and crackers and it was something as simple and innocuous as a selection of silly family snaps that was to prove to be my undoing.
Two fat tears coursed unbidden down my cheeks as I flicked through one set after another. In some the three boys were young, all under ten, while in others they were surly-looking teens, uncomfortable in the bodies that had grown a little too quickly for their age, but one thing shone through in each and every set.
Love.
Pure and simple.
The Christmases and birthdays captured were such happy occasions, filled with family, security and an overwhelming outpouring of love. I looked at Catherine, younger in some shots, older in others, but showing adoration for her family at every age. However, it was the pictures of Angus that were most striking. In many the boys were climbing all over him, wrestling and rolling about, but in all of them they were laughing.
Here was a father who understood the value of family and was immersed in it at every stage of his sons’ lives. Had anything, God forbid, ever happened to Catherine when the boys were young, Angus wouldn’t have shunned and abandoned his responsibilities. The thought would never have entered his head. He would have accepted the challenge and continued the work of shaping them into the men they were today. He wouldn’t have reached for the nearest bottle and forgotten the promises he had made.
‘Dear girl,’ he cried out now, suddenly noticing my distress. ‘What on earth?’
Without another word he dropped the pile he had been flicking through and rushed to my side, and I, without a care for whether it was appropriate employee etiquette, threw my arms around him and sobbed.
‘My darling girl,’ he said, making no attempt to pull away. ‘You’re all right. You’re home with us now. You’re safe.’
When my tears eventually began to subside he sat me down on a packing box and set about tidying the photographs we had dropped. There was no drama, no demand to be told what all the fuss was about, and I felt an even stronger rush of affection for him because of it.
‘You know,’ he said, smiling kindly at me as he packed the pictures away, ‘family doesn’t always mean blood, Anna. Sometimes a person will just find themselves somewhere and they will realise that the folk around them can love and be loved every bit as much as a mother or father, sister or aunt, and sometimes,’ he added meaningfully, ‘even more.’
I was just about to answer him and explain that I was beginning to understand that, when I heard the sound of heavy footfall along the corridor.
‘Is everything all right?’ came Jamie’s voice even before he appeared. ‘I thought I h
eard someone crying.’
‘Crying?’ questioned Angus, his tone suggesting the idea was absurd. ‘Poor Anna here had the fright of her life when she spotted Dolores out there, but no, no tears.’
‘That’s all right then,’ said Jamie, sounding relieved.
I was touched by his reaction. He had no doubt panicked that I had found the trip to look for Christmas decorations a stretch too far and rushed to make sure I was all right. Not for the first time that day I thought how very lucky I had been to be offered the position working here, at this time of year. For once my cup really was running over.
‘No mad women or men in the attic here,’ Angus muttered as he carried on plundering boxes and sent a conspiratorial wink in my direction.
‘Well, I’m very glad to hear it,’ Jamie said, ‘but Mum says can you leave this for now and come down to the kitchen? Molly’s on her way and she wants to talk to you about the Solstice celebration.’
Chapter 15
I took a moment to compose myself and Angus gave my hand a comforting squeeze as we walked back down the stairs.
‘All right?’ he asked, taking care not to look directly at me and set me off again.
‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘Yes, I’m all right. Thank you for not saying anything to Jamie.’
‘I didn’t think you’d want a fuss.’
‘You were right,’ I told him. ‘The less fuss the better, as far as I’m concerned.’
‘I have a feeling,’ Angus tutted, ‘that you’ve been chanting that mantra for far too many years, my dear girl.’
He was right of course, but I wasn’t about to acknowledge the fact and risk opening the floodgates again.
‘One day,’ he said, when I didn’t answer, ‘you’ll hear how most people have ended up here and how they never liked to make a fuss, even though their lives were in real turmoil.’
I didn’t tell him that Mick and Hayley had already told me how they came to be at the hall but said instead, ‘Well, you better make it sooner rather than later. You haven’t forgotten I’m on an eight-week contract, have you?’
