Page 55 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘No, nothing special,’ Estelle says, looking a bit shifty.
Clara observes her daughter for a moment. ‘Are you stepping out with someone, Estelle?’ Her eyes light up. ‘Is it the young man living across the square? Please tell me it is. Your father says he’s a handsome young chap and very well connected.’
‘Do you mean Mr Cracker’s nephew?’ Estelle looks with horror at her mother. ‘I don’t think so. He’s so in love with his reflection, he may as well just marry himself.’
Clara laughs, but that makes her cough, so Estelle pours her a glass of water.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ Clara says when she’s sipped on the water.
‘I almost forgot, Holly and I decorated the Christmas tree today,’ Estelle says, clearly wanting to move the subject away from her love life. ‘That took us a while. I thought you might enjoy sitting by it and looking at the pretty lights I bought from Harrods the other day.’
‘You’re so thoughtful, Estelle.’ Clara smiles at her daughter. ‘I will try and get down tomorrow if I’m feeling up to it.’
‘You should try, Mother,’ Estelle says quietly. ‘I know you find it difficult, but you’re spending more and more time up here alone in your bedroom. It’s not healthy.’
‘And neither am I, Estelle,’ Clara says sadly. ‘You know that.’
‘Is that the only the reason you spend so much time up here?’ Estelle asks. ‘I mean … it’s got nothing to do with Father, has it?’
Clara jumps at the mention of Stephen. ‘No, of course not. Why would it?’
Estelle shrugs her narrow shoulders. ‘I know he can be …difficultat times. But that’s not a reason you should have to stay up here all the time, Mother. It’s your house too. If anything, it’s more your house than Father’s. It was your brother that inherited it from Grandpa and then passed it on to you when he died.’
‘Estelle,’ Clara says, patting her hand. ‘You know how these things work. The man is in charge of the house, wherever it came from. He makes the decisions, not us.’
Estelle pulls her hand away. ‘No, Mother, I won’t hear you talk like this!’ she says, leaping up. ‘You fought too hard for women to become equal to men when you were young. Don’t let some outdated practices overrule what you know is right now.’
‘Estelle?’ Clara says with concern. ‘Where has this all come from?’
‘It’s him!’ Estelle gestures down at the ground as if she might be talking about the devil rather than her father. ‘I can’t let him keep treating you like this.’
‘Whatever do you mean?’ Clara asks, but I get the feeling from her expression she has a pretty good idea of what Estelle is referring to.
‘With his gambling … and … and … ’ Estelle stops before she finishes her sentence.
‘And?’ Clara asks gently. ‘And what, Estelle?’
‘His other women!’ Estelle hisses. ‘I don’t want to be the one to tell you, Mother, but he goes out and visits other women.’
Clara nods calmly.
‘Why aren’t you shocked?’ Estelle demands. ‘Why aren’t you upset, even?’
‘Because I know about the other women, Estelle. I’ve known for a long time.’
‘You have?’ It’s Estelle’s turn to look surprised.
‘Yes, but I’m interested to know how you know about them. He … he hasn’t been bringing them here, has he?’ Clara looks a tad anxious for the first time. ‘To the house.’
Estelle shakes her head. ‘No, not that I know of.’
‘Then how do you know? Is it the local gossip? Do all our friends know? Am I a complete laughing stock – first this stupid illness, and now my husband parading his whores all over town.’
Estelle looks more shocked at her mother using the word ‘whores’ than at anything else that’s taken place so far.
‘No! It’s not that at all, Mother.’ She sits back down on the bed again and strokes her mother’s hair to soothe her.
‘Then what is it?’ Clara is clearly calmer, but I can see the spark of the fighting spirit the 1918 Clara possessed in her eyes once more. ‘How do you know?’
