Page 20 of A Scottish Love Story
‘Oh my, Roxie, you have been busy,’ Jenny said. ‘Is that stuffing balls as well as a loaf of stuffing? Lovely. Don and I enjoy the trimmings as much as the turkey, don’t we, darling? If you leave me the cloth, I will lift the hot dishes to the table.’
‘All right, thanks. Have we enough table mats for all of them?’
‘They will be all right, lassie,’ Amy said. ‘You have done us proud. I never expected to get anyone so capable, or so caring.’ Her voice was husky with emotion.
In the kitchen, Ciaran had carved a plateful of turkey slices onto the hot meat platter so Roxie grabbed another oven cloth to carry it through.
‘I like everything to be piping hot,’ she said. ‘Can you manage the gravy? The boats are hot, but the bases they sit on are all right.’
‘I think I would rather take the turkey. I’m not sure I could manage the gravy without spilling some.’ Roxie loved his boyish grin when he was less than his usual confident self. She passed him the oven cloth. ‘That dish is very hot. I would double the oven cloth when you have such tender hands.’ She gave him a teasing grin.
They went through to the dining room, both smiling happily.
* * *
It was Donald and Ciaran who flamed the Christmas pudding with hot brandy and brought it through.
Afterwards, Amy and Jenny both declared they were too full to finish with coffee and mince pies.
‘Maybe we could have them before Ciaran has to leave to do the milking?’ Jenny said.
Amy nodded. ‘Yes, that would be best. I think we should open our gifts now if Ciaran and Don will bring them through to the room. What did you used to do after Christmas dinner back in Derbyshire, Roxie?’
‘Much the same as Ciaran does, I suppose. When Tommy and I were young, and Mum was in good health, she usually took us for a walk to “shake our huge dinners down”, or so she said, but I think it was to let Dad have a nap and a bit of peace before he went to milk the cows. Later, when I was tall enough to reachin the milking parlour, I helped him with the milking. It was quicker with both of us and we had more cows by then too.’
‘Did you genuinely milk cows, even on Christmas Day?’ Donald asked in surprise.
‘Of course. Someone had to do it, whatever day it was. Dad enjoyed a bit of company as well so we did it together.’ Roxie smiled at Don’s expression.
‘Oh, oh,’ Ciaran said. ‘In that case, Miss Roxanne Carr, you can come and help me. We shall leave Jenny and Don to tidy the kitchen.’
‘You’re not serious, Ciaran!’ Jenny said. ‘I mean, Don and I will tidy up anyway after Roxie has worked so hard for us, but you surely don’t expect her to milk cows?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He pondered. ‘A bit of help is worth a lot of pity. Would you like to come, Roxie? It is always a help even if you only chivvy along the stragglers or feed the youngest calves?’
‘I wouldn’t mind helping you but...’ She looked at Amy, eyebrows raised in question.
‘Yes, you go, dear,’ Amy said. ‘So long as you’re sure it’s what you would like to do. It might make you feel like home, when that was your custom. Jenny and Don will keep me company and we shall have the trifle and Christmas cake for tea, as well as all those savouries you prepared. We’ll set it out for when you both return. You will have worked up an appetite again by then. Now, Donald, where are those parcels?’
Roxie had not been sure what do about Christmas presents until she’d realised Donald and Jenny had always come for Christmas since they’d been married, and opening gifts had become a ritual Jenny and Amy both enjoyed. She had done her best to get something suitable for everyone. She had bought a pink silk scarf for Amy because she noticed how often she liked to add a scarf if she had on a blouse or dress that didn’t button to the neck now the days were colder. She suited pink with hersilvery hair and pink cheeks. Even better, Roxie had spied a small silver scarf ring in a scuffed leather box in the window of a small antiques shop next to the photographer’s. It was marked Edinburgh silver and was in the form of two sprigs of heather entwined to make the ring for threading a thin scarf through. Amy seemed delighted with both scarf and ring.
Roxie had bought a white silk blouse for Jenny after they discovered they were the same size. To make it more personal, and a bit special, she had embroidered a small sprig of forget-me-nots on the collar and on the placket down the front. Amy had seen her embroidering it and expressed genuine admiration for her skill with the embroidery silks.
‘Jenny will love that. She does like clothes that are a bit different to everybody else. That will be unique. She was bemoaning the fact that her clothes are getting too tight at the waist. She will be able to wear a blouse loose with a skirt or trousers.’
It had not been so easy to choose something for Don but in the end she had bought three pony prints which she thought might be suitable for his waiting room and make some of the nervous children smile, or maybe for the nursery when their own baby arrived. Ciaran had been her biggest problem because she didn’t want to resort to something impersonal. When she realised he was genuinely interested in pedigrees and was grading up his dairy herd until they could all be registered pedigree, she knew exactly what to do, except there was not much time left. On her laptop she had photographs of her father’s best cows, which had won at various shows. She selected one of her favourites and emailed it to the small photographer Jenny had unwittingly recommended. He had promised to enlarge it and mount it in an oak frame — plain but smart. On the back, she had writtenCaldbrook Duchess 3rd, Champion of Champions, with the name and year of the show. She had alsobought him a small box of liqueur chocolates in case he wasn’t impressed by a cow that someone else had bred. She need not have worried. He barely looked at the chocolates when he saw the photograph. He was full of questions about her breeding and Roxie knew she had made a good choice when he asked if she could add the full pedigree to put on the back.
She had already seen the beautiful, fine black evening stole Amy had crocheted for Jenny, but she had never expected anything like that herself. She was overwhelmed when she opened the squashy parcel to find the same lacy stole in ivory instead of black.
‘I-I don’t know how to thank you,’ she said huskily, and to her dismay her eyes filled with tears and she had to blink furiously to prevent them falling. ‘I know better than anyone how much time and effort it took to make Jenny’s. How did you manage to make two without me seeing you?’
‘The black is more difficult to work on in electric light,’ Amy said with a smile. ‘So it suited me to do it during the afternoons. It was easier doing the second one to the same pattern and I could work on the creamy colour anytime — in the mornings while you were busy in the kitchen or in the evenings when you had gone to bed with a book, or to watch your own programme on TV. You’re worth every stitch, both of you.’
‘Come on, Roxie,’ Jenny said. ‘You haven’t opened your present from us yet.’ She thrust the giant-sized envelope at Roxie and collapsed onto the sofa beside her.
‘I think you’re more excited than I am, Jenny. Is this some of your own artwork?’
‘Only a little bit — the calligraphy inside. Open it and see.’ Laughing, Roxie did as she was told. On the front of the huge Christmas card was a large photograph of Oaklands View taken in the summer with the garden in full bloom.
