by Tania Crosse
Wigmore, Clarissa, Nana May and Vic were leaving immediately after lunch to do the journey in two days. So even though it was only the day before Christmas Eve, the staff had been requested to gather in the servants’ hall to receive their Christmas gifts, except for Bob who’d already set off on the long journey by train to visit his parents in Norfolk. He rarely saw them so it was an opportunity he couldn’t turn down. Everyone else was waiting in expectant mood, quiet chatter humming among them all.
‘Mum and Dad’ve asked if you’d like to come over to the cottage once your dinner’s over on Christmas Day,’ Ralph said, coming over to Meg. And then he concluded under his breath, ‘Better than spending the rest of the day with old moody knickers.’
Meg opened her eyes wide with shock at Ralph’s choice of words, but then had to stifle a giggle as she saw the funny side of his remark. ‘Tell them I’d love to,’ she whispered back, watching the suppressed amusement on Ralph’s face. ‘Esme will be on her own but it’ll serve her right. All she ever does is pick on Jane and me, so it’ll give her tongue a rest.’
Ralph had to suppress a laugh. ‘That’s settled, then,’ he winked at her.
‘Yes. I’ll really look forward to it.’
Meg looked up at Ralph’s smiling face, and an unfamiliar warmth sizzled inside her, throwing her into confusion. But before she had a chance to go over and thank Gabriel and Mary for the invitation, a general hush spread through the assembled staff. Glancing across the room, she saw that Mrs C and Nana May were coming through the door, followed by Mr W who was carrying a large wicker basket overflowing with wrapped presents. Mr W spoke a few words, wishing everyone a merry Christmas. Nana May consulted the labels on each package, handing them onto Mrs C who called each servant forward to receive his or her gift. When it came to her turn, Meg found her heart beating hard. She sincerely hoped that, unlike the previous year, she wouldn’t receive an extra-special present that would spur Esme’s resentment, and she was grateful that she was the last to be called forward.
‘Ah, Meg,’ Mr W addressed her. ‘Come to the study afterwards. Perry’s returned those sketches of yours I borrowed.’
Meg breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness for that. It had been several weeks since the exhibition, and she’d decided that if Mr W didn’t mention bringing the drawings back with him when they returned from Cornwall in the New Year, she’d have to remind him before they left.
‘Oh, thank you!’ she smiled back. ‘I was wondering when—’
‘Meg, you’re going to love your present,’ Mrs C interrupted. But then her exuberant face fell slightly. ‘At least, I think you will.’
Meg felt Mrs C press a flat, oblong parcel into her hands, and the good lady leant forward to say something clearly meant for her ears only. ‘Perhaps you’d like to come and open it somewhere quietly with me. That’s why we left yours till last.’
Meg frowned in bewilderment, and allowed Mrs C to take her arm and propel her out of the room, through the kitchen and into the dining room. Mrs C pulled out one of the finely upholstered chairs. Meg hesitated. Should she? But Mrs C was gesturing for her to take a seat, so she lowered herself gingerly onto it.
‘Go on, open it,’ Mrs C urged, and Meg sensed the deep feeling in her voice.
Slightly confused, Meg slowly unwrapped the present, doing her best not to spoil the pretty paper. She’d wondered at first if it was a book, but then realised there was some sort of raised border to its shape. As she withdrew the article, she began to see it was a narrow frame, and then…
She gulped as Mercury appeared in her hands. She recognised the stance at once. The eyes, the expression, the trust, everything she’d captured in her own favourite sketch, one of those that had been borrowed, brought to life in vivid, shining colours. Mercury’s eyes gleamed, his coat shimmered, his nose appeared to glisten. The paint was layered on, giving such texture that Meg was sure she’d feel the soft fur if she dared to touch such an exquisite thing. She fully expected the picture to come alive and Mercury to bark and wag his tail.
‘I… hope it’s not too upsetting,’ Mrs C ventured in a whisper, alarmed at Meg’s long silence.
‘No. Not at all.’ Meg’s voice was a mere croak. ‘It’s beautiful. I can’t have him back, but this is… the nearest thing. Thank you so much.’
She turned to Mrs C, knowing there were tears collecting in her eyes, and unable to say another word. She set the frame on the table and, standing up, found herself taking Mrs C’s hands. She hesitated, holding her breath as she lifted her face. She wanted, oh, so much, to kiss Mrs C on the cheek, to hug her even, longing to take comfort from her in a way she’d never thought she could. Never have dared. And then, to her astonishment, Mrs C bent forward and brushed her cheek against Meg’s, such a natural movement, with no hint of embarrassment on either side.
‘Wig got Peregrine to do it for you,’ Mrs C explained as she drew back, her face lit with a radiant smile. ‘Nana and I weren’t so sure, but Wig said that even if there were times when it made you sad, it’d always keep Mercury in your head. Sometimes memories fade and we can’t quite conjure up a picture in our minds. So now you’ll have him forever.’
Meg shook her head as she searched for the words to express her appreciation. ‘I think it was a lovely idea. I’m deeply touched. I must go and thank Mr Wigmore. And please tell Mr Peregrine that I’m really thrilled.’
‘Of course, I will. You could’ve thanked him yourself if it’d been their turn to come here for Christmas.’
Clarissa watched as, nodding her understanding, Meg left the room, taking the painting with her. Clarrie stood still for a moment, her hand moving up slowly to finger the spot where Meg’s skin had fleeting touched against hers. Her eyes closed as she allowed the thrill of joy to ripple through her every nerve. She knew that Marguerite could never come back to them, but this child who bore the same name was growing closer and closer to her. Could it possibly be that Meg might come to look upon her not as a replacement mother – that could never be, Clarrie understood that – but as the next best thing? And she knew that Wig, despite his earlier misgivings, had become almost as fond of Meg as she was. Life had been so cruel to them all, but who knew if fate had somehow meant to bring them together?
All Clarrie knew for sure was that she had waited eighteen years to feel such happiness, and that it was the best Christmas present she could ever have had.
*
Meg knocked tentatively on the door of the small cottage in the grounds where the Hilliers lived. Mrs Phillips, Meg and Esme were the only the servants who remained at Robin Hill House for Christmas dinner, and once it was over and everything washed up and put away, Mrs Phillips had set off home. As soon as she’d left, Meg had noticed Esme draw in a triumphant breath, her eyes glinting malevolently as if she were determined to make the most of the situation. Perhaps she was thinking she could be nasty to Meg while everyone else was out of the way. So it was with the greatest satisfaction that Meg announced she’d been invited to the Hilliers’ cottage.
‘What?’ Esme’s expression was at once both astounded and vicious. ‘You’re going to abandon me on Christmas Day? Some friend you are!’
Friend! If it hadn’t been so unbelievable, Meg might’ve laughed. ‘It’s not my fault I’ve been invited,’ she shrugged instead, trying not to gloat.
‘Oh, I see,’ Esme sneered now. ‘Been sucking up to them, no doubt. Right little minx on the side, aren’t you?’
Meg felt a rush of fury, but she wasn’t going to stoop to Esme’s level. ‘If that’s your opinion of me, you’re fully entitled to it,’ she said calmly as she wriggled into her coat. ‘You’ve still got the dogs for company.’
‘Well, you would love dogs, wouldn’t you, being such a bitch yourself.’
Meg snatched in her breath. She could cheerfully have hit Esme and it was all she could do to ignore the girl’s parting shot and let herself out without slamming the door. As she stepped outside into the grounds, she was
glad of the cold air to cool the flush of anger in her cheeks. The light was already fading and her gratitude to Ralph’s parents for their invitation increased with each step. Blow Esme for being so nasty! Meg simply wouldn’t let her upset her and spoil her evening with Ralph and his parents.
Relief curdled inside her when Ralph opened the door and ushered her into the narrow hallway. His warm smile made Meg feel as if he was genuinely pleased to see her, and she was suddenly aware of an unwanted tenderness in her heart. She mentally shook it out of her head as she followed him into the kitchen where his mum and dad were sitting around the table.
‘Hello, my dear, lovely to see you,’ Mary Hillier beamed. ‘We’re just having a cuppa. Gabriel’s lit the fire in the parlour, but we’ll wait for it to warm up a bit more in there before we go in.’
‘We’ve got a little gramophone so we can have a bit of fun,’ Gabriel put in, ‘and we can play some games later if you like.’
‘That sounds lovely!’
Meg’s heart at once brightened, and she instantly forgot Esme and her cutting remarks. Only for a second did she feel a stab of sadness, for this was exactly the sort of Christmas she should have been spending with her parents. But she could tell that she was going to enjoy herself!
‘Now do take a seat. Piece of cake?’
‘Thank you, but we’ve only just finished dinner at the house and I’m full to bursting,’ Meg replied, sitting down. ‘It’s so kind of you to ask me. I’ve brought some chocolates,’ she said, placing the small box on the table.
‘That’s sweet of you,’ Gabriel nodded. ‘We’ll open them later. They’ll go down well with a nice drop of sherry for you ladies, and I’ve a couple of bottles of Mackeson’s for Ralph and me.’
‘I’d rather have a pale ale,’ Ralph whispered into Meg’s ear when his father’s back was turned. ‘Stout’s for old men.’
Meg blinked at him, not quite sure what to say. But when she saw the twinkle in Ralph’s eye, she couldn’t help but smile, at the same time sucking in her lips in an attempt to conceal her amusement. She’d started to see another side to Ralph recently. He had a gentle sense of humour, and above all, he possessed a deep kindness. It had always been there, but she realised now that she’d refused to see it. She felt ashamed, and yet it didn’t seem to matter. They were friends now, and the past was just that. The past. Over and forgotten.
As Meg swam through the sea of her silent thoughts, she thought her ears caught a tiny whimper from the corner of the kitchen, followed by a snuffling sound. She frowned, and then beside her, Ralph leant back in his chair to look behind her, a soft enchantment glazing his eyes.
Meg craned her neck to follow his gaze, and a flicker of delight sparkled inside her. At the side of the range was a cardboard box with one side partly cut out. Inside the box, something white and tan and fluffy was stirring, and the next instant, a little snout and two beady eyes the colour of caramel appeared over the top.
‘Oh, a puppy!’ Meg cried with delight. ‘Oh, you didn’t say. Isn’t he gorgeous? Oh, can I pick him up?’
‘Of course you can.’ Happiness radiated from Ralph’s smiling face. ‘Only it’s a she.’
Meg shot forward as if released from a catapult, unable to contain her jubilation. She scooped the ball of fur into her arms, and the little creature responded by nibbling with its sharp teeth on her proffered finger. A warm gladness she never thought she’d experience again seeped into the very core of her.
‘Oh, isn’t she adorable?’ she cooed, glancing at the happy faces smiling at her. ‘How old is she? D’you have a name for her?’ she asked in animated succession.
‘She’s ten weeks old,’ Ralph told her. ‘We got her from her mother yesterday, so she’s a bit confused and missing her mum probably, but she’s very friendly.’
‘Poor little thing’s the runt of the litter,’ Mary Hillier said sympathetically. ‘We don’t have a name for her yet, but we wondered about Thumbelina as she’s going to be small for her breed.’
A cloud passed over Meg’s euphoria, but only for a second. ‘She’s a border collie, isn’t she, like Mercury was?’
‘She is,’ Ralph answered quietly. ‘Possibly not purebred, but close enough. But we can’t decide what to call her, so we thought you might like to help us choose.’
‘Me? Oh!’ Meg laughed as the tiny pink tongue flicked out to lick her fingers. ‘Oh, well, Thumbelina’s nice, but it might be a bit of a mouthful when you’re calling her. So what about Thimble? It’s the same sort of idea. Small, I mean.’
She noticed Ralph exchange glances with his mum and dad. ‘Thimble it is, then. We’ll keep her until she’s house-trained and old enough to mix with the other dogs, and then you can have her in the big house. Mrs C’s already agreed. She was delighted with the idea.’
Meg shook her head in bewilderment. ‘What do you mean, I can have her? In the house? I don’t understand.’
‘Well, she’s your dog,’ Ralph told her, his voice low. ‘Unless you’d rather not. If it’s… too soon. The chance came up, and we… I thought… maybe with her being white and tan, just that bit different, and a little girl…’
For a split second, but for no longer, Meg’s heart pricked with sadness, but almost at once a whirlwind of joy spiralled up inside her. ‘You mean, you got her for me?’
‘Well, the dog at one of the nurseries we deal with had a litter recently,’ Ralph explained, ‘and nobody wanted this little lady, so it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. And we’d have her if you didn’t want her.’
‘Oh, but I do! It was such a kind thought. Oh, thank you so much!’ Meg’s momentary hesitation was swept aside as she wrapped her free hand about Ralph’s shoulder and, without another thought, kissed him on the cheek, then did the same to both his parents.
‘It was Ralph’s idea, not ours,’ Gabriel informed her, slightly embarrassed at her show of affection.
Meg turned back to Ralph, and something she couldn’t identify twinkled through her body. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, and was grateful when Thimble wriggled in her arms and gave a funny little squeak that made them all laugh.
Later, Ralph went with Meg to milk the two cows that were currently giving milk. She was glad of his company, as ever since Mercury had been poisoned, she’d felt uneasy going out on her own in the dark. A couple of times she’d been convinced someone was watching her. It was probably just her mind playing tricks, but she nevertheless felt safer having Ralph with her.
Later still, after an evening of parlour games and dancing to music played on the gramophone, they bid goodnight to Gabriel and Mary. As Ralph and Meg walked together back towards the house, Meg could only think of the soft little bundle curled up in the Hilliers’ kitchen, knowing that Thimble was going to be her new companion in life. Something to lavish her affections on, to confide in. To love.
‘What a beautiful night,’ she sighed dreamily as they ambled along the path.
Beside her, she was aware of Ralph raising his gaze heavenwards. A large half-moon was gleaming liquid silver in a silky indigo sky, wispy clouds strung across it in ribbons whose misty edges shimmered with a tinge of amber.
‘Certainly is,’ Ralph agreed. ‘When I look up and see the sky like that, I wonder what it’d be like to fly up among the stars. I’d love to learn to fly, to soar above the world and be as free as a bird. But I know I never will.’
‘That might sound wonderful,’ Meg chuckled in reply, ‘but I’d rather have my feet firmly on the ground and admire the sky from down here.’
Ralph shrugged. ‘That’s probably as close as I’m ever likely to get, too. But it’s such a clear night you can’t help but dream. If it stays like it, it’ll turn frosty overnight. Either that, or those clouds will build up and turn to rain.’
‘I thought gardeners were able to predict the weather,’ Meg teased.
‘And I thought farmers could.’
‘Hmm, I lost my piece of seaweed,’ Meg giggled, referring to the old w
ives’ tale of hanging up a piece of bladderwrack seaweed to predict the weather– even if she knew there was, in fact, some truth to it. She heard Ralph’s amused grunt, such a soft, gentle sound. But her eyes had already been drawn back to the spectacular night sky where the brilliant moon was now free of all hindrance and shone out like a semicircle of white fire. ‘My mum used to say,’ she went on with a wistful sigh, ‘that when the moon starts to wane, it’s because it’s been sprinkling its dust on the earth. And if it lands on you, it’s supposed to bring you luck.’
The little tug in her voice was audible. Was the moon bringing her good fortune tonight? She was certainly due some after all the bad luck she’d had over the last year or so, losing her parents, then her home and finally her beloved Mercury. What she did know was that, though her heart was still shadowed with sadness, it was also singing at the thought that little Thimble was hers. And the whole idea had been Ralph’s.
He seemed to have read her thoughts as the next moment she felt him gently squeeze her hand. ‘Well, let’s hope some of it’s falling on you tonight,’ he murmured.
‘I somehow think it is,’ she whispered back, her voice sticking in her throat. She deeply appreciated Ralph’s kindness to her with the puppy. And it was such a romantic night with the moon smiling down on them, that for a fleeting moment, she imagined herself melting into Ralph’s arms.
Goodness, why was she thinking like that? She’d resented Ralph for so long, so how could such an idea enter her head? She felt bewildered and confused as together they crossed the terrace along the back of the house and rounded the corner to the servants’ entrance at the side. As expected, there were lights still on in the servants’ hall, and Meg wondered with a touch of guilt what sort of evening Esme had had, with just the dogs and the radio for company.
