‘Something to wrap him in,’ Marian ordered distractedly, but Joseph was already passing his voluminous striped towelling headdress over. Caz slipped through the door, removed his child from Kylie’s uncertain grasp and enfolded it in the warm material. Then he sat down on an upturned bucket. The baby, as if by magic, stopped bawling and stared up at him.
Gareth, who was still leaning over the half-door between Annie and me, now said slightly uncertainly, ‘Bless you, my child!’ like an aged bishop. Still, I don’t expect this is a situation he’s ever had to contend with before.
Clive, efficient as ever, had already trotted back to the house to tell Unks and call an ambulance. He said the horse might have bolted, but a check-up of mother and baby was clearly indicated.
There was a feeling of anticlimax about the rest of the rehearsals once Ophelia, the infant and Caz had been whisked away to hospital. Ophelia hadn’t wanted to go, and Caz had almost balked at the sight of the ambulance’s brightly lit and clinical interior, but Nick had reappeared by then and firmly shoved him in and closed the door.
‘I wonder if she’s actually got anything ready in her cottage for the baby’s arrival,’ I mused.
‘Oh, yes. Dave says all the Naylors have rallied round with baby clothes and equipment,’ Annie assured me.
‘I think their wedding had better be postponed until after the christening,’ Gareth remarked thoughtfully. ‘Or perhaps we can do both on the same occasion? I’ll have to consult the bishop.’
‘If they can decide on a name,’ I said. ‘Star and Rambo seemed to be frontrunners last time I talked to Ophelia.’
Gareth gave me a doubtful smile: I expect he thought I was joking.
We rushed through the Annunciation, Nativity and Flight into Egypt at breakneck speed. Kylie was distinctly huffy, and clearly felt she had been upstaged, though Joseph, bare-headed, performed his part with perfect sang-froid.
Afterwards, most of the cast set off for the New Mystery, and I bagged a lift with Gareth and Annie. Nick followed us down in the estate pick-up, with nine angels crammed in the back and Lucifer sitting beside him.
When we got there I took our usual corner seat with Gareth and Annie, but it was only when we sat down that I realised Nick hadn’t followed us but was smiling and talking with Polly Darke over near the bar. He’s so tall he must have had a bird’s-eye view down her cleavage: her twin prows were jutting out like the front of a catamaran.
She noticed I was watching and flashed a triumphant look in my direction as he steered her away to a darker corner, one hand under her elbow and his glossy dark head bent towards hers.
My mouth must have been hanging open, because Annie nudged me with her elbow and asked anxiously, ‘Are you all right, Lizzy? You look a bit odd.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said with an effort, ‘just a bit tired, suddenly.’
‘Yes, me too. Where’s Nick? I thought he followed us in.’
‘He decided to go for a bit of a tramp,’ I explained.
‘I expect he needed some fresh air,’ Gareth said vaguely, as if we hadn’t already spent most of the day out in the cold, freezing our socks off.
‘If you don’t mind, perhaps I’ll just get off home, after all,’ I said. ‘I feel a bit tired, and there’s such a crowd it’ll take her ages to come for our orders anyway.’
‘Don’t you want to wait and we’ll drive you back?’ asked Annie. ‘We won’t be long, because Trinny’s in the car, and she’ll get cold.’
‘No, that’s all right,’ I said, getting up. ‘It’s only five minutes away and Jasper will be there. I’ll let you know if I hear any more about how Ophelia and the baby are doing.’
On my way out I sneaked a glance at the corner where Nick and Polly were still sitting, their heads close together.
‘Come on, Mum, obviously he’s doing it for a reason,’ Jasper said, when I told him about Nick’s betrayal — which I did about five seconds after arriving home. It was that or burst.
‘Oh, yes, I could see that,’ I said shortly. Ginny, not liking the tone of my voice, ran her teeth thoughtfully up and down my ankle.
‘No, Mum, I meant it must be part of some plan he has, because he said he would deal with her, don’t you remember?’
‘Then he’s going about it in a strange way! And if you’re right, why didn’t he tell me what he was going to do?’
‘You kept everything a secret from him, didn’t you? He only found out from Caz and Leila what was going on. And I expect if he’d told you, your reaction when you saw them together wouldn’t have looked half as authentic. Now she’ll think she’s putting one over on you.’
‘Maybe she is: he wouldn’t be the first man unable to see past a pair of pneumatic boobs.’
‘Not Uncle Nick,’ he said stoutly. ‘Really, Mum, you can’t possibly believe that — she’s a complete dog.’
‘Bitch,’ I said, absently, because I was wondering if he could be right. Then I realised what he’d said. ‘That was a bit rude, Jasper!’
‘I suppose it was — but I only meant that she’s no competition, so you don’t need to worry about Uncle Nick falling for her.’
‘I’m not worried in the least, he can fall for anyone he likes,’ I assured him, then rather spoiled the effect by adding, ‘but while we’re speaking of bitches, Jasper, do you think you could teach yours not to nip my ankles?’
‘She’s just being friendly,’ he said fondly, bending down and giving her a pat. ‘By the way, Unks rang and told me about the nativity at the Nativity — sorry I missed it!’
‘Just don’t expect a repeat performance on Boxing Day,’ I warned him. ‘I think we’d all better stick to the script from now on.’
Chapter 31: Middlemoss Marchpane
I just made a chocolate, fruit and nut Christmas wreath, by packing melted chocolate mixed with puffed rice breakfast cereal into a ring mould, then studding the surface with whole nuts of various kinds, crystallised cherries and other candied fruits, glued on by half-dipping them in more melted chocolate. I’m going to have it as our table centrepiece on Christmas Eve, with a red candle in the middle.
The Perseverance Chronicles: A Life in Recipes
Word had it that Ophelia discharged herself from hospital almost as soon as she had been checked over, but the Naylor clan were rallying round.
I spent the next couple of days doing Christmas baking, including the fine ham that Roly had sent down for me (he does this every year), and making a big trifle and a Middlemoss Marchpane.
I put the recipe for the latter, with one or two small adjustments, into Just Desserts. I was going to save it to take up to the Hall with us on Christmas Eve, for we always went to listen to the carol singers, whose first call it traditionally always was. But then Jasper’s friend Stu came over to stay the night and they demolished it, so I had to set to and make another.
I drove up to the Hall, since as well as the Marchpane I had my contribution to tomorrow’s Christmas dinner with me: a vat of mulligatawny soup and the giant round Christmas pudding. There was also a box of presents to put under the tree, most of them home-made and edible.
We’ve always had Christmas dinner up at the Hall: Mrs Gumball would go in early to cook breakfast and put the goose into the oven, then I would finish the cooking and serve it. But this year Nick was here, so apart from my soup and pudding contributions (and some brandy butter ice cream I’d got from Faye), he was doing it solo. He’d have to, because after my previous experience as chef’s skivvy, I’d no intention of ever letting myself in for that again.
In fact, I was now trying to avoid him altogether, since every time I looked at him a nasty picture of his and Polly’s heads, flirtatiously close together, slid into my mind. I might have agreed with Jasper that it was all just a cunning ploy to get information out of her, but I wasn’t a hundred per cent convinced …
Joining in with the carol singers round a roaring fire up at the Hall always seemed a significant moment and by the time they’d
all trooped off again, full of sherry and mince pies, I felt as full of anticipation as a child.
Back home once more, we had our usual Christmas Eve supper of thick slices of the Christmas ham with egg and chips, followed by first go at the big sherry trifle I’d made. Then we watched an old film in the sitting room on Jasper’s little TV, which he’d brought back with him, along with all his other stuff. He’d fixed the kitchen one, too, by the simple expedient of changing the plug.
Jasper’s stocking, which had been knitted for him by Annie when he was a toddler, hung next to Ginny’s at one end of the mantelpiece. Mother Claus would fill it and hook it over the handle of his bedroom door later, as she always did … and I suspect she’d better hang Ginny’s there too, or there would be trouble.
There was quite a heap of gifts under our tree. I couldn’t resist fingering the ones from the family we had brought back with us, but of course I couldn’t open them until next day, or it would spoil the surprise …
We had an orgy of unwrapping next morning while Ginny chewed noisily on a rawhide version of a candy cane and, although I’m sure we both thought of Tom while dividing up the presents into two piles, rather than three, neither of us mentioned his name. He’d hardly been around much for the last four or five years anyway, spending as little time in our company as possible, so the spirit of Christmas past didn’t really haunt us, even if we were briefly saddened by the ghost of what might have been.
Jasper gave me a pen, the kind with liquid inside that you tilted so an Egyptian sarcophagus lid slid open to reveal a mummy’s mask. There was a mummy-shaped biscuit tin too, so he’d obviously found a good museum shop somewhere. I had soaps, bath oils and gardener’s handcream from Mimi and Juno, an antique-looking ring from Roly — and a new postcard album, bound in soft blue leather, from Nick. He must have noticed my old one was full up to overflowing …and he must also intend sending me a lot more, too, so I expected I was right about him soon tiring of staying in one place and he’d soon be off on his travels again.
Jasper retired to his room, wearing the long Dr Who scarf Annie had knitted for him, to have a private conversation on his mobile phone with his girlfriend — about whom I still know practically nothing, except that her name is Kelly — while I tidied up the discarded wrapping paper and ribbons.
Then I put on my new slinky green dress (why should all the honours go to Polly?) and we went up to the Hall for Christmas dinner.
Annie and Gareth had been invited too, and it all felt a bit like déjà vu after the photoshoot one, except we actually got to eat the food, and Lionel Cripchet didn’t burst in and start going on about squirrels. And Jasper was there too … and Ginny, who was sick behind the door from Mimi feeding her too many titbits, so that was different from last time.
I was wearing the old and valuable-looking ring that had been Unks’ gift to me, but with the large, oval emerald turned inwards so it didn’t catch the light. I felt increasingly sure it was a family heirloom, in which case I really had no right to it. So, as soon as I got the chance for a quiet word, while we were going into the drawing room for coffee, I asked him if he was sure I should have it.
‘Yes, my dear, it’s quite fitting,’ he assured me. ‘Don’t you like it? Would you have preferred a modern one?’
‘Oh, no, I love it! Only I’m sure I’ve seen it in one of the portraits in the gallery, so it must be a family piece.’
‘It’s the betroth—’ began Mimi, who’d caught up with us, spotting it for the first time, but a glance from Unks silenced her and she wandered off again with a giggle.
‘I want you to have it,’ Roly said firmly. ‘Humour an old man, m’dear?’
I thanked him, but thought that the first opportunity I got I’d check out the portraits in the gallery and see if I could spot it, because if I was right, Nick might not be so happy about having part of his inheritance given away. Meanwhile, I’d have to remember not to wear it when gardening, or it would go the way of my wedding ring, back into the earth, never to be seen again.
Chapter 32: Hoar Frost
The annual Middlemoss Mystery Play on Boxing Day marks the end of the old year and the start of the new and I expect the Mystery Play replaced some much older, pagan ritual that would have taken place at about the same time.
The Perseverance Chronicles: A Life in Recipes
They say the sun shines on the godly, and certainly just as I arrived there on the morning of the Mystery Play with Jasper a weak, golden light began to spread over the courtyard of Pharamond Hall.
The farmers had cleared the local roads of the last fall of snow and, though icy in places, they were passable with care. In any case, many of the audience preferred to walk there.
The Mosses Women’s Institute was setting up the refreshment stand near the kitchen door (the money raised goes to local charities), and I handed over my contribution of ginger parkin, fruitcake and bags of vanilla candyfloss. I managed to restrain myself from suggesting they make themselves Santa beards out of it, because this is quite a serious occasion, really.
Jasper went off to help Caz and Joe Gumball with the myriad last-minute jobs: lighting the charcoal braziers that were set around the courtyard, testing the microphone in Unks’ little striped tent, from where he would speak as Voice of God, and moving scenery. I stored my Eve costume, wig and figleaves (which are threaded onto elastic, so they are quick and easy to put on for the Expulsion) in one of the loose boxes used for changing rooms: men to the left of the coach house, women to the right.
When I came out again the audience had started to arrive, bearing picnics, folding chairs and rugs, and Jojo and Mick were warming their hands at one of the charcoal braziers. I hadn’t thought how depleted the Mummers would be, since Ritch was still away basking in the Caribbean, and Ophelia, of course, had just given birth; but when I spoke to them they told me that actually Ophelia and the baby were in the kitchen with Mrs Gumball, who would mind the infant while she popped out and performed as usual.
‘Is that a good idea, so soon?’ I asked doubtfully.
‘Yeah, she’s fine, she wants to do it,’ Jojo assured me, but I imagine the poor girl’s performance will be even limper than usual.
‘Have they decided on a name for the baby yet?’
‘Sylvester Star, according to Ophelia,’ Mick said, ‘but I heard Caz Naylor calling it Sly.’
‘That’s got to be better than Rambo, though,’ I said, and they agreed.
Although there was an old outside toilet behind the stables (Victorian vintage, with shiny mahogany seating), in recent years Roly has also arranged for a portable toilet block to be set up next to it, which saves much queuing during the breaks. I sensibly repaired there before putting on my Eve costume under my clothes: it would certainly be impossible to go again in that outfit. Makes you wonder how Spiderman and other superheroes manage, doesn’t it?
The Spandex felt odd under my jeans, but quite warm. I left my wig hanging on the post outside the loosebox, together with my figleaves, and went outside again. The courtyard was now quite full and noisy, and the WI ladies were doing a roaring trade in hot drinks. The air was cold and smelled of spices and roasting chestnuts — or, if you suddenly and unexpectedly found yourself in the vicinity of Polly Darke and her little circle of friends, as I did, civet cats.
‘You’ve been making candyfloss again, I see,’ Nick said, doing his silently materialising act right next to me.
‘I call it Hoar Frost and I’m dedicating the recipe to Polly,’ I said tartly. ‘What is she doing here? And why hasn’t anyone run her off the premises?’
‘She’s here because I invited her specially and told her it just wouldn’t be the same without her,’ he said, with an enigmatic smile. ‘I suppose you feel much the same about Ritch Rainford. Poor Lizzy — didn’t he invite you to go to the Caribbean with him?’
I felt myself blush, because actually Ritch had, though I knew he was only flirting, as usual.
‘Yes,’ I said shor
tly and ambiguously. ‘It’s a pity he isn’t here for the play,’ I added, fingering my sparkling little snowman brooch rather ostentatiously. ‘Several of the other Cotton Common cast members are, though I don’t know if they’ll have the stamina to stay for the whole thing.’
Nick’s hand captured mine and he stared at the ring on my finger. ‘I didn’t get a good look at that last night,’ he said thoughtfully. The flat green stone gleamed with restrained opulence in its heavy, antique gold setting.
‘I hope you don’t mind Unks giving it to me? I suspect it’s a family heirloom, but I did ask him if he was sure he wanted me to have it.’
‘Well, then, I suppose you could say he’s given you the family seal of approval,’ he said blandly. ‘And look, he’s arrived, so we must be about to start. Who’s that with him?’
‘Delphine Lake, one of the actresses in Cotton Common.’
Pretty as a picture from silver curls to tiny, pointed blue shoes, Delphine had somehow managed to insinuate herself into Roly’s royal pavilion, but then, he always did have an eye for an attractive woman. There was just enough room for another folding canvas chair, and their heads were close together in earnest conversation.
Clive Potter came out and stood in front of the canvas curtains, holding up his hands for silence, and then bid everyone welcome to the Middlemoss Mysteries.
‘Now let our play begin!’ he said dramatically, bowed and walked off.
A small silence ensued, then there was a squeak as Nick leaned in and switched on Unks’ microphone before his voice could be heard, confiding to Delphine, ‘… and then blow me if it didn’t pick itself up at the fifth, overtake the field and gallop home by a head!’
‘Voice of God!’ Nick whispered urgently.
‘Ah, yes — excuse me, my dear …’ There was a rustling noise, as of paper being picked up. ‘I AM GOD, THE ALL-POWERFUL, ALL-KNOWING,’ he declaimed loudly, then lowering his voice to a more normal level, continued, ‘Listen to my words — take heed of the mysteries that will unfold before your dazzled eyes.’
The Magic of Christmas Page 30
