‘Are you sure about the dog?’ I asked as we went in.
‘Yes, come on,’ Jess urged me, pushing open an inner door to the left of the passage.
We stepped down into a dark cavern, lit at one end by a roaring open fire and at the other by the dull glow of a fruit machine. Behind the counter was a buxom, red-haired woman of about forty-five and a couple of obvious locals were sitting near the fire, eating bread and cheese. An even more obvious pair of strangers were eating at a table nearby and they looked at Merlin with acute disapproval.
‘Do you mind the dog?’ I asked the woman behind the bar. ‘Only Mr Martland said—’
‘Oh, we know Merlin, Jude brings him down here all the time and he’s better behaved than most of our customers,’ she said, then shot a look at the muttering strangers and added loudly, ‘and them that don’t like it can go in the public bar next door or take themselves off.’
The complaining voices abruptly ceased.
The woman wiped her hand on a pink-spotted, duck-egg blue apron and held it out to me: ‘Nancy Dagger. My husband Will’s down the cellar, changing kegs and that’s his old dad over there near the fire.’
A tiny man with a long, snowy beard suddenly leaned forward out of a hooded chair, the like of which I had never seen before, and said in a high, piping voice, ‘That’s right — I’m Auld Man Christmas, I am!’ Then he laughed wheezily, like a pair of small musical bellows. ‘Heh, heh, heh!’
‘Take no notice,’ Nancy said. ‘We know you’re looking after Old Place instead of those Chirks what have been here before, Henry told us all about it last night. But I’ve never known Martlands to be away from Old Place at Christmas before!’ And she shook her head. Then she gave me a sharp look and added, ‘But then, I suppose you’re family?’
‘Not at all, I just work for the same agency as Jim and Mo.’
‘I thought you had the look of a Martland, being tall and dark and all,’ she insisted, eyeing me closely — but then, it was gloomy in there.
‘No, I’m not related to them — and Mr Martland will definitely be back for Twelfth Night, because I’m due to leave that morning.’
‘He should be here now, that’s how it’s always been,’ she said. ‘People round here don’t much like change.’
‘It’s because he argued with Guy and didn’t want to see him,’ Jess told her. ‘But I think it’s mean of him not to think of the rest of us.’
‘Well, talking won’t mend matters,’ Nancy said. ‘What can I get you ladies? Are you having lunch?’
I ordered a hot pot pie and, after much deliberation, so did Jess. ‘Pies aren’t my favourite thing,’ she explained, ‘but I’m getting a lot of cold food from Granny, so I might as well have something hot while I can.’
‘I expect the old folk will have a bit of a struggle to cope this year, poor things,’ Nancy said. ‘I can make you a nice cup of drinking chocolate, how about that? Squirty cream on top.’
‘Oh yes, that would be lovely, thank you!’ Jess said. ‘Oh, and Grandpa gave me some money to pay for Holly’s lunch, too.’
‘That was a kind thought,’ I said, touched — and also still feeling uneasily and illogically guilty again after Nancy’s remarks.
I did have all the food for Christmas dinner and cooking it wouldn’t be a problem. . so was I now obstinately punishing Noël, Tilda and Jess, simply because Jude had got my back up? Was I being as selfish as he was?
How much of a hardship would it really be, to put my personal inclinations on one side and invite them for one meal?
It was no use, I was simply going to have to do it!
I could look on it as research and write that Christmas chapter for my book, after all!
When we got back to the lodge I handed over the sherry, then said, ‘I’ve been thinking things over and you know, it seems such a pity to waste all that lovely Christmas food that the Chirks left behind, because I won’t be able to eat it all. So, even though it’s very short notice, I wondered if you could possibly all come for dinner on Christmas Day with me anyway?’
‘Oh yes!’ exclaimed Jess, bouncing up and down in her large, black lace-up boots.
‘But you don’t celebrate Christmas, m’dear, so surely that would be an imposition?’ Noël asked doubtfully.
‘I don’t have to celebrate it, just cook it,’ I said brightly. ‘Anyway, I’m sure it will make a nice change.’
‘Well, in that case. .’ he said, glancing at his wife.
‘It’s very kind of you,’ Tilda said. ‘Of course, I was fully prepared to do a festive lunch, but I do see your point about not wasting the Chirks’ food.’
‘Lovely — then that’s settled,’ I said. ‘If Mr Martland gets through to you again on the phone, will you assure him that Lady and Merlin are both fine, if he is still fussing about them, and tell him of the change of plan? He did suggest yesterday that I carried on with the Chirks’ invitation, so he can’t have any objection.’
‘Oh, did he? How kind and thoughtful of the dear boy,’ Noël said.
‘Yes, wasn’t it just?’ I replied, slightly sourly.
‘Of course it will be a lot more work for you than you bargained for originally,’ he said. ‘I expect you usually charge quite a lot for cooking, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but actually you’ll be doing me a favour, because I still have to write the chapter on Christmas house-party catering for my book, so it’ll be good research.’
‘I may well be able to give you some useful tips for your book, too,’ Tilda said graciously, and I thanked her.
‘I think you should be paid a little more — I’ll speak to Jude about it,’ Noël insisted.
‘No, please don’t — I’m sure I’ll love doing it and of course I’ll bill him for any extra food I have to buy.’
Noël rubbed his gnarled hands together gleefully. ‘Well, well — a Martland family Christmas celebration after all — how splendid! And I include you in the family now, m’dear, because you already feel like one of us.’
‘Nancy Dagger thought she was a Martland,’ Jess said.
‘Only because I’m tall and dark,’ I said with a smile. ‘It’s quite gloomy in the pub, isn’t it?’
‘I expect that is it,’ he agreed, ‘and by the way, do call Jude by his first name. There is no need to be formal when we are going to be seeing such a lot of each other.’
‘But I’m not going to be seeing anything at all of Jude,’ I pointed out. ‘Though if the telephone works, I suppose I’ll hear a lot more.’
‘Do call him Jude — he isn’t one to stand on formality,’ Tilda said. ‘The artistic type, you know.’
‘Not really, the most artistic I ever get is cake decorating. . and that’s a point, because the Chirks didn’t leave a Christmas cake. I’d better get back and start one. Thank goodness I just bought more dried fruit and candied peel!’
‘It is too late in the day and it won’t taste right,’ Tilda objected. ‘But I have a Dundee cake in a tin that Old Nan gave us, so I could bring that.’
‘No, it’s fine, I have a last-minute recipe where you steep the fruit in spirits for a couple of days before making it and it really tastes rather good. If I do that today, it can have a good long soak.’
‘Oh great,’ said Jess. ‘And you were going to make mince pies anyway, you said.’
‘Yes, those too. Would you mind if I borrowed this basket, Tilda? Only I bought much more than I expected. Jess was a huge help carrying everything back, though — she had the heavy rucksack.’
‘Good girl,’ Noël said.
‘And I’ll come and help you put the decorations up,’ Jess offered.
‘Decorations?’ I echoed, not having thought any further than food, drink and the chore of cleaning the dining room for Christmas Day lunch.
‘Yes, all the decorations are in the attic, and there’s holly and ivy in the woods for the taking.’
‘I — hadn’t thought that far yet,’ I hedged. ‘Let me make a start on
the baking first.’
‘Okay, and then we’ll do it,’ she persisted. ‘There’s a couple of trunks of amazing old clothes in the attic you might like to see, too. . though I’m too old for dressing up now, really.’
‘Oh. . well, we’ll see.’
Tilda, suddenly looking much more alert and bright-eyed, swung her legs off the sofa and slid her feet into a pair of improbably tiny black velvet high-heeled slippers, edged with waving fronds of pink marabou. ‘Now, what would you like us to bring? We have a lovely big box of luxury crackers — and Noël has the keys to the cellar, of course, so he can find us something decent to drink.’
‘If you’re sure Mr — I mean Jude — won’t mind?’
‘Not at all, he’s the most generous of souls.’
I hadn’t seen much sign of anything except selfishness yet, but perhaps, as well as hidden cellars, the unknown Jude had hidden depths too?
But as far as I was concerned, they could stay hidden: I’d never before liked a man less just on the sound of his voice! And now, because of him, instead of spending the anniversary of Alan’s death in quiet contemplation, I would be gearing up for a feast.
I got up. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get back. I have a lot to do.’
Merlin retired to his basket by the Aga, exhausted, and watched me with his bright amber eyes while I listed all the things I needed to do before Christmas Day.
I’d been working on it all the way up the drive — not only deciding on the menu (traditional), starting a cake and getting the large ham I had spotted out of the freezer to slowly defrost so I could cook it, but also finding the formal cutlery and crockery. . and cleaning the dining room and downstairs cloakroom, too.
At least I’d already done the sitting room!
I would ignore the bit about decorations. Jess could come and put them up, if she really wanted to, though it hardly seemed worth it for one day.
I found a huge mixing bowl in one of the cupboards and into it went the dried fruit and chopped peel I’d bought that day, bulked out with some sultanas and a packet of slivered almonds (only a month out of date) from the store cupboard.
Into the mix went the drained and chopped contents of a jar of cocktail cherries (these, tiny silverskin onions and olives seemed to be well stocked in the larder, among the pickles and preserves), and the brandy from the decanter in the dining room, eked out with a bit of rum.
Then I covered the bowl with cling film and put it on a shelf in the larder, before ticking that task off my increasingly extensive to-do list.
Advance organisation is the absolute key to successful catering for large parties — I make that plain on the very first page of my book!
It wasn’t a huge surprise to me when Jude rang just after I got in from giving Lady her warm mash and Billy a distracting handful of goat biscuits, and shutting the two of them in for the night. The wind had dropped, letting a few flakes of snow float idly down like feathers, so presumably the floppy phone lines weren’t blowing about.
‘Jude Martland,’ he announced brusquely, as if I hadn’t already guessed who it would be.
‘Lady’s fine — she’s just had her mash and she’s snugly bolted in for the night with Billy,’ I assured him, before he could ask. This time I was determined I wouldn’t let his autocratic manner annoy me, but remain my usual calm, professional self. ‘And Merlin had his arthritis tablet with his breakfast and I’ve just given him a good brushing — which he badly needed, by the way.’
‘Oh. . right.’ He sounded slightly disconcerted. ‘That wasn’t actually what I was going to say. I’ve just spoken to Noël and Tilda — the line was too bad to hear a word earlier.’
‘I know, it was a bit windy.’
‘I understand you’ve agreed to do what I asked and cook Christmas lunch for the family?’
‘Yes, but only because I was in an impossible situation and there was nothing else I could do. But it was your responsibility to look after everyone, not mine to try and pick up the pieces after you’d swanned off in a huff.’
‘I did not swan off in a huff! And anyway, it’s no business of yours why I decided to spend Christmas over here — nor can I see why you’re making such a fuss about laying on Christmas dinner, when everything has been provided for you by the Chirks and you’re a cook anyway!’
‘Chef,’ I said icily, though normally I don’t mind being called by either title. ‘And you obviously have no conception of the amount of work involved — not just preparing, cooking and clearing up dinner, but cleaning your filthy dining room and the downstairs cloakroom, which looks as if mud wrestlers have had a bout in there.’
‘Then get what’s-her-name — Sharon — to help,’ he said shortly.
‘You’ve forgotten — she’s resigned.’
‘Oh yes. . Well, it’s not that bad, is it? You’re exaggerating! A quick run-over with a duster and the Hoover. .’
‘Look, I’m used to keeping the parts of the house I’m using clean and tidy — though even then they don’t usually need a total deep-clean — but that’s all I’m contracted to do, other than look after the animals! Conversely, when I’m doing house-party cooking, my clients don’t expect me to do anything except produce delicious meals — and my charges for that are extremely high!’
‘Oh, I see! I suppose that’s what this is really all about, trying to get a lot more money out of me?’
‘No, it isn’t — and you couldn’t afford my prices,’ I snapped.
‘According to that boss of yours at Homebodies, I’m going to be paying you double house-sitting rates anyway, so at this rate it would probably be cheaper to send them out to a good restaurant in a taxi,’ he mused gloomily, ‘except that they wouldn’t go. They seem to think that you invited them out of the kindness of your heart — they’ve no idea how very cold and mercenary you are, Mrs Brown.’
‘I’m not in the least cold and mercenary, I simply resent being put in the position of picking up the pieces of the mess you left after you walked away from your responsibilities. And what about the elderly people in the almshouses who usually spend the day here, too?’
‘I sent them a Christmas hamper each,’ he said indignantly. ‘And Henry.’
‘Big of you, Mr Martland!’
‘You know, I think you could start calling me Jude, now we’re on insulting terms,’ he suggested. ‘Holly certainly suits you: spiky!’
‘And you’re objectionable and overbearing. And don’t you think you’re making a lot of unfounded assumptions about someone you’ve never met?’
‘Well, aren’t you?’
‘No, I’m basing my opinion of you on hard evidence. But believe it or not, my only reason for agreeing to do the cooking was that I like your aunt and uncle and Jess and felt sorry for them — Tilda’s really too frail to cope alone. But think what you want to. Meanwhile I don’t think we’ve anything further to say to each other. Good night — Jude.’
‘Don’t you dare put the phone down on me again—’ he growled, just as I did exactly that thing.
It rang again almost instantly, but I ignored it and then later, when I was going to ring Laura, it was dead as a dodo.
Chapter 11
Slightly Tarnished
Today I asked N what his home was like and he said it was an old house up in the hills — in fact, just below one of the beacons. So I said, was it Rivington Pike, because I remember a Sunday school day trip there as a girl but he laughed and said no, much smaller than that and the little stone tower on the hill — nothing much to look at.
February, 1945
Last night I lay in bed reading Gran’s journals late into the night again, more and more convinced that N.M. would turn out to be the Ned Martland she had loved and lost — and one and the same as the black sheep of Old Place and therefore closely related to the obnoxious Jude. The description of his home was the clincher.
By some amazing coincidence Fate had directed me here — but then, they say truth is always st
ranger than fiction.
I could tell she was increasingly fascinated by him (and he had quickly become simply ‘N’, so presumably they were now on first-name terms), but he sounded like a hardened flirt to me. Poor, innocent, chapel-bred Gran wouldn’t have stood a chance. .
However, since she then spent two sleep-inducing pages on pious reflections about the state of the world before the next entries, maybe she would prove entirely unassailable.
There was a light sprinkling of snow when I went out to the stables, but, remembering what Becca had said, I put Lady and her smelly little friend out in the paddock anyway, where she immediately started to paw the snow from the grass as she grazed.
I am quite getting into a routine now, and soon had the loosebox mucked out and freshly laid with new straw ready for the evening. The exercise made me glow, so I expect it did me good. After that Merlin and I took a little walk up to the red horse, which was actually now white like everything else, though you could still see the bumps and hollows of its outline.
I found a sheltered spot behind some gorse bushes and rang Laura on my mobile. She’d just got back from dropping the children at her mother’s house for the day, to give her a rest.
I asked her how she was and she seemed to be blooming, as she always was during pregnancy.
‘I hope mine goes as well, when I follow plan A in spring,’ I said. ‘I thought I could cook all summer to get some money in, and then retire until the baby has arrived. Assuming it works, of course — there’s no guarantee it will at my age.’
‘Haven’t you met any nice men up there? I was hoping you might, and give up the whole mad AI thing,’ she asked hopefully.
‘Yes — Noël Martland’s lovely, but he’s ancient and married. And I suppose you could say I’ve met Jude Martland via the phone, but I’m so glad I’ll have left before he gets back, because he’s selfish, overbearing, autocratic. . quite horrible! I think all he really cares about are his horse and dog.’
Twelve Days of Christmas Page 10
