Page 114 of One More Christmas at the Castle
‘Oh, really?’ he said vaguely before adding, ‘Interesting part of the world you’ve got to.’
‘Did you know anything about it – the family connection?’ I said patiently. ‘The current owner is called Sabine Powys.’
‘No, your Granny Celia never wanted to talk about the past and I think there was some family rift.’
His voice kept fading in and out, though whether that was the connection, or because he was doing something else at the same time, I had no idea, but suspected the latter.
‘I know all about the family rift now!’
‘Do you? You must tell me all about it next time you come over,’ he said kindly, and I could hear a buzzer in the background.
‘Dear me! I’d quite forgotten there was a group from the university coming for a private tour of the gallery. I must go.’
And he rang off.
It had been an unsatisfactory and tenuous connection with myverytenuous father.
I unwound after that by taking a long, hot soak in the bath and then changing into my comfortable velvet joggers and a sweatshirt, before going downstairs again.
I found Henry there, with Xan, and Simon, whom he’d rung up and invited.
‘Hi, Rapunzel,’ Xan said. ‘You always look about sixteen with your hair loose.’
Henry gave me a meaningful look, which I avoided. I really didn’t want to look sixteen, in case it jogged Xan’s memory!
Xan moved Plum, who was luxuriously spread out over my usual place on the sofa and then dumped him on my lap as I sat down.
‘We’re just debating what to watch,’ Henry said. ‘I vote forSaving Santa!’
Next morning, it was as if yesterday’s cataclysmic revelations had been nothing but a very odd dream, for Mrs Powys’s manner to me at breakfast was exactly the same as usual, although Nancy had already wandered into the kitchen early, apparently with the sole intention of giving me a warm hug.
After breakfast, Mrs Powys went off with Xan to record what would be the last session before the guests started to arrive, andNancy, as now seemed to be her habit, helped Henry with the bedrooms, while I cleared up in the kitchen and awaited the supermarket delivery.
Henry came back just after it had arrived and helped me put it away.
‘Nancy’s taking Mrs Powys to some appointment – medical, I expect,’ he said, stowing vegetables in the rack. ‘She said if you didn’t mind, they would stay out for lunch, so I told her that would be OK. And Lucy mentioned at breakfast that she was going shopping with her friend, soshewon’t be here for it, either – I forgot to tell you.’
‘So it’s just you, me and Xan?’ I said. ‘That’s easy, then, and gives me a little more time to do other things – like wrap those chipolata sausages in streaky bacon and then freeze them, ready for Christmas Day.’
‘Lucy seems to be spending more time out than in now, but looking much better for it,’ he said. ‘I expect the effort of trying to please Mrs Powys, yet always getting it wrong, must have been very exhausting.’
‘At least she seems to have got over the disappointment of finding you were gay, Henry.’
‘I’m her new best friend, instead, darling,’ he said. ‘I’m going out shortly, by the way, to get fresh flowers. What are you going to do? No, don’t tell me: cook something.’
‘Make lots of soup … perhaps turn some of the minced beef that just came into meatballs and cottage pie for the freezer …’ I said. ‘Then this afternoon, I’m going to make stollen.’
‘Yum!’
‘For tomorrow’s tea, when the Mellings will be here,’ I said pointedly, then weakened. ‘But perhaps I’ll make two, one for us.’
Xan emerged from the study in the late morning and winkled me out to walk Plum. By then, Henry had returned with half the contents of a florist’s shop and was busy arranging flowers in the cloakroom, so I gave him a kitchen timer and told him to take the cottage pie out of the oven when it pinged.
It was still very cold out, with a chill breeze, so we cut across the herb garden and then followed the track down through the woods on that side, where it was sheltered.
As we walked, Xan said, ‘You look very pale this morning, Dido – didn’t you sleep?’
‘I’m always pale,’ I told him. ‘But I did have the weirdest dreams … and now everything that happened yesterday seems like one, too, and not at all real. Still, that’s a good thing, because it makes it much easier for me to carry on as if nothinghadhappened,’ I said cheerfully.
