Page 12 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘Would you like a hand?’
Angela looks surprised, then pleased. ‘That’s very kind of you, lovely,’ she says. ‘But I’ll be just fine. You go on and find Estelle – she’s waiting for you.’
As I head back down the hall, I can’t help wondering why Angela had seemed so on edge. I hesitate at the sitting room door for a moment, wondering whether I should knock. ‘Do come in, Elle,’ I hear Estelle call. ‘You don’t need to stand on ceremony here.’
‘Hi.’ I open the door, suddenly feeling a little awkward as I enter the room. ‘Angela said lunch was almost ready, and I should come through.’
I’m pleased to see the dining table at the back of the room has been laid for three. It’s difficult trying to work out just what Estelle and Angela’s relationship is – sometimes it seems like employer and employee, but more often it seems like old friends and I much prefer the second pairing.
‘Angela will be joining us for lunch,’ Estelle says from her chair by the fireplace, seeing me glance at the table. ‘I hope that’s all right?’
‘Of course, it is. You two are obviously old friends?’ I move towards the chair I sat in yesterday, and Estelle nods for me to sit down.
‘We’ve known each other for a long time,’ is her considered reply as she strokes Alvie, who is sitting on her lap. ‘She helps me out now I can’t do as much for myself any more.’ Estelle lowers her voice. ‘Just between the two of us, I’d be lost without her. But don’t tell her I said that, will you?’ She winks.
‘Too right you’d be lost without me.’ Angela enters the room with a large tray full of our lunch. ‘Indispensable, that’s what I am.’ She places the tray on the table and unloads a soup tureen and the slices of buttered bread on a plate. ‘Why don’t you go and sit down at the table, Elle?’ Angela suggests while she helps Estelle from her chair.
‘Where would you like me to sit?’ I ask, positive they will already have their usual seats.
‘On the left there.’ Estelle points with her stick towards a chair.
I take my seat, while Angela guides Estelle to the table. Then Angela ladles the soup into our bowls and we all help ourselves to bread.
‘So I thought we might start talking about the history of the house later,’ Estelle says when we’ve all tucked into a delicious chicken soup, and some of the nicest homemade bread I’ve ever tasted. ‘After we’ve decorated the tree, of course.’
‘Sure,’ I agree, taking a drink from my glass of water. Even the water tastes amazing here, and I make a note to ask Angela what brand it is. It’s definitely not London tap water, of that I’m certain. ‘I’m keen to get going with the project.’
‘Good, good,’ Estelle says. ‘After lunch perhaps you can bring in the boxes of decorations, Angela?’
Angela nods. ‘Of course. I might complain about it, but it’s always a good day when we decorate our tree for Christmas.’
I notice she saysourtree.
‘Yes, it’s always the start of something good,’ Estelle agrees. ‘And this time more than ever it’s important we get it right.’
Angela nods, and I’m left, as seems to be becoming the norm, slightly bewildered as to what exactly they are discussing.
After lunch I insist on helping Angela clear the table and fill the dishwasher. I am surprised to find, along with a washing machine and tumble dryer, a modern dishwasher in a sort of utility room off the kitchen. I’m sure this room would have originally been called a scullery, I think, calling upon my limited knowledge of period houses gained on the magazine. But now with its very modern equipment, a utility is the best name for it.
When I return to the sitting room Angela has got a wooden box of Christmas decorations down from the attic, and she and Estelle are sitting at the table already carefully unwrapping some very old and very delicate-looking tree decorations, while Alvie is curled up in his basket at the side of the fire.
‘They look beautiful.’ I walk over to them. ‘Are they all antique?’
‘Most of them, yes,’ Estelle says. ‘Each one represents a person or a time in this house’s history. They’ve been passed down through the generations with each new owner adding to the collection.’
‘Gosh!’ I look at what they’ve already unwrapped. ‘That’s really lovely. How far do they go back?’
‘Some to Victorian times when the first Christmas tree would have been brought into the house,’ Estelle explains. ‘Did you know, before that, trees were never usually a part of Christmas in England? Families decorated their homes, but mainly with greenery and berries brought in from outside.’
‘Wasn’t it Queen Victoria who started the tradition for trees here?’ I add, keen to share what knowledge I have.
‘Close. Her husband Albert brought the first one into Buckingham Palace, and it began there. Victoria and Albert also began the tradition for sending Christmas cards.’
‘Some of these decorations could be over one hundred and fifty years old, then?’ I say, quite amazed by this fact. The decorations are really intricate, beautiful and extremely delicate-looking.
‘Which is why I’m not quite as keen as Estelle is on decorating the tree,’ Angela says wryly. ‘I’m always worried about dropping one of the decorations and it smashing.’
‘You’ve never dropped one before,’ Estelle says.
