Page 21 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘That’s good to know … I guess,’ I reply tentatively. ‘But that still doesn’t explain how you know so much about me. I haven’t told you any of that about my friends, or my family.’
‘No,youdidn’t … ’ Estelle looks to Angela for assistance.
‘People talk,’ Angela says quickly. ‘We couldn’t just let you come and live here without checking on you first, could we? We didn’t ask for references, so I spoke to a couple of people at the magazine you worked for and they probably told me more than they should have when I pushed them a little. I’m sorry.’
I think about this. If Angela had spoken to Michelle in Accounts, or Gemma in Advertising, then they would have told her everything – they’re such gossips. But that still doesn’t explain how Estelle knows about my family. I never talk to anyone about that. Or why I don’t want to spend Christmas with my parents any more.
‘I guessed about your family,’ Estelle says, reading my mind. ‘It doesn’t take a genius to work out if you would rather spend Christmas here with two strangers rather than your family, it means you’ve likely fallen out with them.’
I suppose that makes sense.
‘I’m very sorry if I touched a raw nerve, Elle.’ Estelle looks genuinely sorry. ‘I may seem a little brusque at times, but it’s just my way. My heart is in the right place, though, isn’t it, Angela?’
Angela nods. ‘You’ll get used to Estelle. Her bark isalwaysworse than her bite.’
Alvie, on cue, gives a little yap from his basket.
‘You’re absolutely right. I don’t see much of my parents these days,’ I say, watching Alvie settle down in his basket again. ‘It’s been a gradual thing over time though, so I’d really rather not talk about it if you don’t mind?’
Estelle and Angela both nod.
‘But that still doesn’t explain how you made your first story seem so real tonight. What’s the trick?’
‘There is no trick,’ Estelle says. ‘Is there, Angela?’
Angela, a little reluctantly, shakes her head.
‘I just feel it’s important to make history seem as real as possible. Did it seem real?’ Estelle cleverly turns the questioning back to me.
‘A bit too real,’ I reply, still not happy with this explanation, but I’m quickly realising Estelle isn’t easily going to reveal the secret of how she’s doing this. So I decide to bide my time for now and change my line of questioning. ‘So, what happened to the baby in the end? Did they get it back? Please tell me that awful Jasper met a grisly end and they were able to rescue the baby from the children’s home or wherever it went to?’
‘Elle, this isn’t a fairy story I’m telling you,’ Estelle says solemnly. ‘This is real life, and real life doesn’t always have a happy ending. The baby didn’t go to a children’s home, it went to a foundling hospital. Back then there was one not too far away from here. Foundlings were usually children rescued from poverty, or babies that were thought would die if left with their mother. The majority of the children that were cared for by the hospital that Celeste’s grandson went to were given up by their mother voluntarily, when circumstances meant they were unable to care for them. Foundlings that young were usually sent to a wet nurse in the country, returning at around five years old to be schooled if they were lucky.’
‘But the baby we saw had a wealthy family – he wasn’t poor or at risk?’
‘No, but pregnancy out of wedlock back then wasn’t just frowned upon, it was positively despised. There was no way Jasper could have let that baby stay, and uphold his position in society. If the secret had got out, his reputation would have been ruined. It was quite common back then for babies born in these circumstances to be quietly taken away, in exchange for a large donation to a charity such as the foundling hospital.’
‘But he was wanted by his mother, and by Celeste,’ I say, angry that Jasper had got his own way, without the women having any say in what happened. ‘Was Edith right, would Celeste’s first husband have let him stay?’
‘Possibly. He was a much kinder man than Jasper and less bothered by what society thought. But once Celeste remarried after Joseph’s death, Jasper became the head of the family; he was in charge and made all the decisions. Back then Celeste had no choice but to abide by his wishes or she would have found herself and Nora destitute, and without a home.’
‘Bloody men,’ I say, thinking of Owen. ‘They think they can get away with everything, and we’ll just forgive them and carry on as normal.’ I stare at the baby in the crib hanging innocently from the Christmas tree. ‘Not this time!’ I bang my balled fist on the top of my thigh. ‘Not this time,’ I murmur again, frustrated not only for Celeste but for myself too. Suddenly I remember where I am. I glance hurriedly at Estelle and Angela, wondering what they must be thinking. But they both just look at me with sympathy. ‘It was so much worse back then, wasn’t it?’ I add, hoping they’ll quickly forget my outburst. ‘For women, I mean.’
‘Indeed it was,’ Estelle says, continuing on as if nothing unusual has happened. ‘Luckily things have changed somewhat since then. Thanks to the effort of our forebears, we’re seen a little more equally now. Even if things still go a little wrong for us at times.’ She gives me another sympathetic look.
‘So what became of the baby?’ I ask quickly, keen to keep the focus on the house and Estelle’s family, and not me. ‘Did they ever get him back? And his little heart token – what was that about?’
‘Babies given up back then were usually given a token of some sort,’ Estelle explains. ‘This enabled them to be easily identified if the parent should want to come back and claim them again in the future. Because their names were changed immediately on entering the hospital, it was the only way to differentiate one child from another as they grew. But as you can imagine, the tokens, which were anything from an engraved coin to a ticket stub, or even jewellery in some cases, often went missing – so it wasn’t a great system, but back then the only one they had.’
‘Poor Celeste,’ I say, thinking of her sobbing in Edith’s arms. ‘And poor Nora. What became of them?’
‘Jasper died some years later, not from a grisly death as you suggested, Elle,’ says Estelle, looking reprovingly over her glasses at me, ‘but simply from heart failure. Celeste, probably sensibly, never married again, but continued to live in this house. Nora went on to have a family of her own with a very kind man who was quite high up in the world of banking. When Celeste died, and Nora inherited the house, she moved back in with her husband and family, and it’s been passed down through our family ever since.’
‘I’m so pleased both Celeste and Nora had a happy life in the end.’
‘They did. Nora’s husband was a good man, like her father was. But I don’t think Nora ever truly got over having her first child taken away – even though she was very young when it happened. So she persuaded her husband, who was very wealthy, to become a patron of a children’s hospital, and they helped to raise significant and much-needed funds over the coming years for charity. So some good did come of Jasper’s decision eventually.’
‘Hmm, but at what cost?’ I say, thinking of Nora. ‘I wonder what became of the baby if they never managed to trace him?’
