by Betty Neels
She went back then, unpacked her case, which someone had brought to the room, and changed into the patterned jersey. She did her hair and her face and then sat down on the bed. She was suddenly nervous of going downstairs. Thomas had no right to leave her alone...
There was a tap on the door and Thomas came in. He took one look at her and sat down beside her on the bed. ‘Feeling a bit overpowered?’ he asked, and put an arm round her shoulders. ‘Don’t—they are all so delighted to see you. Come down. Father’s waiting to open the champagne and James wants to kiss you under the mistletoe!’
They went down to the drawing room together, and Claudia stifled a wish that Thomas had been the one who wanted to kiss her. A silly wish, she reflected. He wasn’t a demonstrative man... Hadn’t he told her that before they married? That he had no interest in being in love, that he had loved once, but never again? And she had accepted that.
Everyone was in the drawing room—a square room with two windows overlooking the front garden. It had panelled walls, and chairs that were roomy and very slightly shabby, but the furniture was solid and beautifully kept, the chairs covered in a dark red damask which matched the curtains, and a vast sofa before the stone fireplace, which housed a roaring log fire. The room was warm—warm with content and happiness and love; there was no doubting the affection Thomas’s family had for each other, although it wasn’t on display.
They drank their champagne and presently crossed the hall to the dining room. It was panelled, like the drawing room, and had a vast mahogany table surrounded by Victorian balloon back chairs, a William the Fourth pedestal sideboard, which took up almost all of one wall, and a magnificent giltwood side table. There were a number of paintings on the walls—Claudia supposed that they were family portraits—dimly lit by wall sconces.
The table had been decked for Christmas, with a centrepiece of holly and Christmas roses, a white damask cloth and napkins and heavy silverware. When the soup was served Claudia recognised Coalport china.
She was hungry and dinner was excellent: game soup, roast pheasant and a chocolate and almond pudding. She wasn’t sure what she was drinking; all she knew was that she was very happy and enjoying herself. And Thomas, sitting beside her, had once or twice put his hand over hers, which gave her a warm glow inside.
They arranged the presents round the tree after dinner.
‘We all go to church in the morning,’ Amy told her. ‘But perhaps you and Thomas would like to go to the midnight service? It’s only a short walk to the church and it’s a lovely service. We always went, but now we have the children we stay at home. They still wake in the night sometimes, and we like to be there.’
‘How many have you?’
‘Two, and another one in the spring. Ann has one so far.’ She smiled. ‘They’re such fun, but an awful lot of work.’
Claudia went to sit by her mother-in-law then, until that lady declared that it was time they all went to bed. ‘You still have the children’s stockings to fill,’ she reminded them. ‘Breakfast at eight o’clock. Church at half-ten.’
‘I’m taking Claudia to the midnight service,’ said Thomas quietly, and smiled across the room at her.
‘Then we’ll leave the side door unlocked. I’ll tell Maggie to leave coffee on the Aga, and there are sandwiches in the fridge if you feel hungry.’
There was a leisurely round of goodnights as the party broke up, leaving Claudia and Thomas sitting by the fire.
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Are you going to like my family?’
‘Yes, very much. I’ve never had more than Mother—and Father, of course, but he died several years ago. I think it must be wonderful to be one of a large family.’
‘Indeed, it is. We don’t see a great deal of each other, but we make a point of meeting for important occasions. Amy and Ann are happily married—Jake and Will are sound men—and I suppose James will marry in due course.’
‘Your mother and father aren’t lonely so far from you all?’
‘No. They are happy to be together. Mother has her garden, Father sits on various committees, and they both enjoy walking. Besides, there is quite a social life here, even in the winter.’
He glanced at the walnut longcase clock. ‘Would you like to walk to church? It’s only a question of five or ten minutes.’
‘I’ll go and get a coat.’
It would be cold outside. She put on her winter coat and the little velvet hat, found gloves and sensible shoes and went back downstairs to where Thomas was waiting for her in the hall.
He took her to a door beyond the staircase and opened it onto the night. There was a clear sky, alight with stars and a dying moon, and he walked her along a path leading from the side door of the house to a small gate which led onto the lane.
‘The church is below the village,’ he told her, and took her arm. And round a bend she saw its squat tower close by. There were other people making their way there, too, and when they reached the church she saw that it was already almost full. Thomas made his unhurried way to a pew in the front, stopping to greet people he knew and introduce her, but presently she had time to glance around her. The church was small, rather cold, but scented with the evergreens and holly and Christmas flowers which decorated it. She liked it, and she enjoyed the service, simple and peaceful.
They walked home later, and Claudia said, ‘It’s Christmas Day...’
Thomas stopped. ‘Ah, yes, and we have no need to wait for the mistletoe.’ He hugged her close and kissed her, and then let her go rather abruptly. He had very nearly lost his self-control.
Claudia had enjoyed the kiss very much; if she hadn’t been taken by surprise she would have kissed him back, but he had released her before she had the chance. Perhaps later...
The house was in darkness as they went quietly through the side door and into the kitchen. It was a thoroughly old-fashioned one, with a huge dresser along one wall, a big scrubbed table with ash and elm Windsor chairs around it and two elbow chairs on either side of the Aga. The floor was of flagstones and there was a rag rug before the Aga. Harvey was fast asleep in his basket, and curled up on one of the chairs was a large tabby cat.
Thomas fetched two mugs and poured their coffee. ‘Maggie has been with us for a lifetime,’ he told her. ‘She’s a really marvellous cook. We all love her, and the children can’t be kept away from her when they come to stay. She has plenty of help, of course, but both maids have gone home for Christmas Eve. They’ll be here in the morning, and go again after lunch. There’s an ancient man who does the heavy work in the garden. He should have been pensioned off years ago, but the people round here don’t retire.’
‘Would you rather live here than in London?’
‘This is my home, and I love it, but my work is in London and that is my life. I am fortunate enough to be able to have both.’ He glanced at her. ‘You like living in London, Claudia?’
‘Oh, yes, you have a lovely home, and the parks are close by.’
‘I’ve bought the cottage at Child Okeford. We’ll go down to see it in the New Year. It seems pretty sound, but it will need painting and some small alterations.’
‘You’ve bought it? Oh, Thomas, how splendid. Did you forget to tell me?’
‘I didn’t know myself until this morning, when the agent phoned. You’re pleased?’
‘Yes. Oh, yes. You’re pleased, too?’
‘Yes!’ He got up and took her mug. ‘It’s very late. Go to bed, my dear, you have had a long day.’
‘And a very happy one.’ She leaned up and kissed his cheek. ‘This is such a lovely Christmas.’
For a second time that evening Thomas very nearly lost his self-imposed restraint.
* * *
CLAUDIA WENT DOWN to breakfast in the morning to a chorus of greetings and good wishes. The children were there, too. Ann’s small so
n was in a high chair, but Amy’s two—little girls—were sitting at the table. There was a lot of noise and laughing while they ate, and afterwards, before they all went to church.
Claudia could see that Thomas was on excellent terms with his nephew and nieces. He would be a splendid father, only it seemed that he had no desire to be one. Perhaps in a few years’ time, when they had grown closer to each other... She shut the thought away; he had married her for companionship and because he wanted a wife to order his household and entertain his friends. Their marriage was a sensible one, based on friendship and compatibility, and a genuine liking for each other.
The church was warmer now, and there were even more people there. She stood between Thomas and his mother and sang the carols, and told herself that she was the luckiest girl on earth.
Chapter EIGHT
CHRISTMAS DINNER WAS at midday, so that the children could share it—turkey and Brussels sprouts, roasted potatoes, braised celery, cranberry sauce—nothing had been overlooked. Then the Christmas pudding, set alight with great ceremony, and last of all mince pies. They drank champagne again, and then coffee before going to the drawing room to open their presents. The children first, of course, before they went for their afternoon naps, and for a while the room was awash with coloured paper, ribbon and toys.
Presently it was the grown-ups’ turn. Everyone was there, including Maggie, the two maids and the gardener, and they collected their gifts first, drank a glass of sherry and went off to the kitchen to enjoy a splendid high tea.
Mr Tait-Bullen Senior handed out the presents, and very soon the room was just as untidy as when the children had been there. Claudia, looking round her, thought how delightful the room looked, with the lighted tree and the gaily covered presents, the roaring fire and the soft lamplight. She wished that her mother and George could have been there, too, although when she had phoned her mother that morning that lady had sounded in the best of good spirits. She caught Thomas’s eye and smiled—a wobbly smile, for she was on the verge of tears—and he came to sit by her, taking her hand in his large, cool one and giving it a friendly squeeze.
‘You haven’t opened all your presents...’
‘No. There are so many and they’re all so lovely.’ She picked up a small box and tore away the paper. A jeweller’s box, blue velvet and quite small. She looked at the tag then, and said, ‘Oh, Thomas, it’s from you...’ She opened it and looked at the earrings bedded in white satin—sapphires in a network of gold and diamonds.
‘Oh, Thomas...’
‘Go on, kiss him,’ said Amy, who had been watching. ‘You’re in the family now.’ They had all turned to look, smiling and nodding, so she kissed him, very pink in the cheeks, feeling shy.
Thomas didn’t kiss her back. She thought he might have done, with everyone watching, but he took the earrings out of the box and fitted the hooks neatly into her ears. She got up then, and went to admire the earrings in the gilt mirror opposite the fireplace, and that gave her time to let the blush die down and regain her composure.
She still had more presents to open, so she went back and sat down again on the massive sofa beside Thomas and started to open them. A gorgeous silk scarf from Harvey, who was sitting at her feet and muttered sleepily when she thanked him. A leather writing case from her in-laws—red leather with her initials. Gloves and scent and a jewel case from Thomas’s sisters and brother. She went round thanking everyone, and being thanked, and when she sat down again Thomas was opening his presents. He had a great many, but he saved hers till the last, quietly approving of the tie. When he unwrapped the photo frame he said nothing for a few moments.
‘It’s a kind of reminder,’ said Claudia quickly. Perhaps he didn’t like it; perhaps he thought it was a silly, sentimental thing to have done.
‘I shall put it on my desk at my consulting room,’ he told her quietly, ‘so that everyone can see what a beautiful wife I have.’
‘That wasn’t why I did it,’ she told him. ‘I thought it would remind you...’ She paused to get it right. ‘It’s difficult to explain...’
‘Then don’t try, Claudia. I think I understand and I shall treasure it.’
The presents had all been opened by now, and everyone was sitting round, content to do nothing for the moment.
‘Shall we go for a quick walk?’ Thomas pulled her to her feet.
‘Yes, dear, take Claudia towards the forest,’ his mother said. ‘Tea will be a little later because of the children. Be back by five o’clock.’
So Claudia fetched her coat, tied her new scarf over her head, got into her boots and went down to the hall where Thomas, coated but bareheaded, was waiting.
They went out of the side door again, and along the lane towards the church, and then turned away along a rough track which took them almost at once into the forest. It was a perfect late afternoon, the sky in the west a blaze of red and yellow, the rest of the heavens already darkening, lights from the village and outlying farms twinkling.
‘It’s been such a lovely day,’ said Claudia as they walked along arm in arm. ‘I feel happy, don’t you, Thomas?’
He didn’t answer that, but observed, ‘It would be hard to be unhappy here. Some places are meant to be happy in—I think the cottage at Child Okeford will be such a place.’ He looked down at her face, rosy with the cold. ‘What are we going to call it?’
‘Why, Christmas Cottage, of course.’ She went on happily. ‘We’ll have a cat—at least, he’ll have to live with us in London and go to and fro like Harvey... Should we have brought Harvey out with us?’
‘Harvey is sleeping off a much too large dinner. I’ll give him a run after tea.’
‘Your parents haven’t got a dog? I know Maggie has a cat...’
‘Jasper, our Labrador, died a month or so ago. He was old and a devoted friend. In a while, when they are over his death, I’ve arranged for a puppy—another Labrador—to join the family.’
‘Oh, Thomas, how kind. They must miss him terribly.’ She stopped to stare into his face in the gathering dusk. ‘You think of everything, don’t you?’
‘I do my best.’ He reflected that he hadn’t thought of falling in love...
They walked back presently, to eat Christmas cake and drink tea from delicate porcelain teacups round the fire while the children sat at a small table eating an early supper. They had had an exciting day and were inclined to be peevish. Amy and Claudia went to sit with them, coaxing them to eat their peanut butter sandwiches, the little fairy cakes Maggie had made for them, which followed the Marmite toast, and to drink their milk.
When they were borne off to bed there were plaintive requests for Daddy to tuck them up and read them a story. They were taken upstairs then, and presently Amy and Ann came down again. ‘Now it’s your turn,’ Amy told the men, and as they went away she said laughingly to Thomas, ‘Just you wait. It’ll be your turn next. I don’t know why fathers read bedtime stories better than mothers, but be prepared for it!’
Thomas said mildly, ‘What do you suggest? That I start rereading Hans Andersen? A bit out of date, I dare say. How about The Wind in the Willows? My favourite when I was a small boy.’
The conversation became general then, and Claudia joined in, avoiding Thomas’s eye. She supposed that there would be a good many such remarks, but, since they didn’t seem to disconcert Thomas, she must learn to treat them in a light-hearted manner.
She had married him so quickly there hadn’t been time to foresee the small pitfalls, but as long as he didn’t mind, she wouldn’t allow it to bother her.
Everyone went away to dress presently, and when she came downstairs there were guests, invited for a drink—local people who, it seemed, had known Thomas and his family for years. They accepted her as one of the family at once, but the talk inevitably turned to reminiscences, so that she felt an outsider despite everyo
ne’s efforts to include her in their talk. But she did her best, and Thomas’s hand on her arm reassured her.
When the last guest had gone, they went in to supper. A buffet—the vast sideboard laden with bowls and dishes filled with Maggie’s delicious food: smoked salmon, salads of every kind, a ham on the bone, stuffed eggs, chicken pie, miniature hot rolls. Claudia allowed Thomas to fill her plate and found herself sitting by James.
‘Pity you have to go back tomorrow. I suppose Thomas can’t be away for more than a few days. Time he took a holiday. He doesn’t need to work quite so hard, you know.’
‘Yes, I do know, but he loves his work, doesn’t he? It’s important to him.’
‘He’s good, of course, you know that. You should see him in Theatre...’
‘And people like him, I think. He came to see my great-uncle, you know—that’s how we met...’ She paused, remembering that she hadn’t much liked him then. ‘They got on awfully well together. People do things for him, too, don’t they?’
James chuckled. ‘Well, he can be a bit hoity-toity if he can’t get what he wants—in the nicest possible way, mind you. And in no time they are all doing exactly what he wants!’
But it was something Ann said which made her vaguely uneasy.
‘You’re so right for Thomas. We’ve all hoped he would marry, but for years and years—ever since he had that miserable love affair with that girl who went off with a tycoon from South America—he’s been considered a splendid catch. Not that he’s bothered about that. I don’t suppose you’ve met a woman called Honor Thompson? She’ll be livid when she hears that he’s married...’
‘I’ve met her,’ said Claudia in a carefully level voice.
‘You have? I expect Thomas told you about her. She’s one of the persistent ones. Don’t let her worry you, though. He doesn’t care tuppence for any of them. He’s always known what he wanted from life and now he’s got you.’
Was that why Thomas had married her? she wondered. To be a barrier against wishful partners? Someone who wouldn’t spoil the even tenor of his life by demanding undying love? Really, it was a sound idea! An undemanding relationship, the tolerance of good friends towards each other, shared pleasures—and they did like the same things. He could have married Honor, or any other of his women acquaintances if he had wished, but he had chosen her. Well, she was quite prepared to be the wife he wanted. And just let Honor try any of her tricks, Claudia thought waspishly.
