Page 28 of A Christmas Celebration
‘Yes,’ said Dorothy, with a smile. ‘And just in the nick of time. The financial target was finally reached last week after a very generous anonymous donation.’
I noticed Angus shift in his seat.
‘So, now it’s all set for next Saturday, December third,’ Catherine finished up.
‘So late.’ I frowned, then more cheerfully added, ‘But at least it’s happening.’
‘You must be looking forward to the festivities, my dear?’ Angus asked me. ‘It’s been a long time since you were in the country to celebrate them.’
‘I am,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing quite like a traditional Christmas, is there?’
‘There’s certainly nothing like a traditional Wynthorpe Christmas,’ he chuckled. ‘And we must make sure you aren’t kept too busy to enjoy it. You haven’t got an extra PWC on the go, have you? That really would be too much.’
‘Of course not,’ I tutted, feeling my face flush.
Catherine smiled and shook her head.
‘What’s a PWC when it’s at home?’ Dorothy asked.
‘Paige’s Worthy Cause,’ laughed Catherine. ‘Don’t you remember, Dorothy?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said, also laughing. ‘Of course. You were always fighting for something or someone, weren’t you, my love? There was always a cause to take up, even when you were here on your holidays.’
She was right, but given my recent introduction to Albert and subsequent thoughts about him, I didn’t much want to be reminded about that.
‘That’s because she’s always had a hatred of injustice and a desire to help those in less fortunate positions in life,’ Angus said proudly, as if he was giving an electoral speech, with me as the hopeful candidate. ‘It’s her finest quality, in my opinion.’
I didn’t say anything, but he was right about my desire to help. It was that which had made me so keen to sign up to the volunteering life Chadia had described the day we met at the university recruitment fair. That, and her own passion for it, of course.
‘Do you remember the row over the hens?’ Angus beamed.
‘I remember the placard,’ Catherine reminisced. ‘And the chant that went with it.’
Dorothy rolled her eyes.
‘Well,’ I said, relieved it was just the four of us in the kitchen and Archie wasn’t around to start teasing, ‘I dideventually understand why you couldn’t let them roam completely free.’
‘And their run was huge.’ Angus winked.
‘And fox proof,’ Catherine reminded me.
My desire to let the hall’s hens run free was a timely reminder that I didn’t always get it right, even back then, and that felt like further justification for passing my concerns about Albert over to the real expert, Kathleen. I wasn’t passing the buck; I was taking the most responsible course of action.
‘You know,’ said Angus, with hugely inconvenient timing, ‘we’re not so different, you and I, Paige.’
‘Are we not?’
‘No,’ he carried on. ‘We’re not. We both want what’s best for people and we always go the extra mile to make sure we help them get it, don’t we?’
It was my godfather’s words which prompted me to telephone Kathleen that afternoon. However, rather than passing on Albert’s name and address, I heard myself asking if there was an optician in Wynbridge who made home visits.
‘Yes, my love,’ she told me. ‘There is. Do you know someone who needs a test?’
‘No,’ I said, as she reeled off the details. ‘I just thought it might be something useful to know if I was ever asked.’
‘You’re as thoughtful as Anna,’ Kathleen praised kindly. ‘She always has the measure of what’s needed too. It’s the little things that make the world of difference, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I had to agree. ‘I suppose it is.’
