Trisha Ashley - Twelve Days of Christmas

‘Noël’s told me a bit about the Revels. He said there would be a ring of twelve fire braziers as well as the bonfire.’

‘That’s right. Originally there were twelve small bonfires and one big one, but Jude made some wrought-iron basketwork braziers that spike into the ground, so we use those instead now. It’s the same idea, just easier and safer.’

He gave me another sideways look from his sky-blue eyes as he pulled up outside the almshouses. ‘Noël doesn’t usually say much to strangers about the Revels: none of us do. He must have taken an uncommon shine to you.’

‘I think it’s because he keeps forgetting I’m not one of the family, since I’m tall and dark, which seems to be usual with Martlands.’

‘Yes, the dark side does seem to win out, and you do have a Martland look — I thought so from the first.’

I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not!

‘I’m starting to be sorry I’ll miss the Revels. Do you take part in them?’

‘Oh yes, there’ve always been Rappers from Hill Farm,’ he said mysteriously as I got out, and added that he was going to see his sister, who lived on the far side of the village, but would look out for me on the way back.

Although Henry was out (I left his foil-wrapped package on a little shelf inside the porch and hoped it would be all right), the other two both seemed pleased to see me and accepted as a matter of course the news that someone from Hill Farm would pick them up and bring them to Old Place on Christmas Day. In fact, Old Nan told me that George wouldn’t need to bother, since Jude would come himself, he always did. Clearly she had lost the plot again.

Richard had also lost it, since he addressed me as Miss Martland and told me to inform the family that he would take a midnight carol service on Christmas Eve, since the vicar from Great Mumming was unlikely to make it. ‘He usually does an early service here, then goes on to the church in Great Mumming.’

‘Won’t you be exhausted taking a late service — and in the cold?’ I asked.

‘I don’t sleep much these days, anyway. And there are paraffin heaters in the church, you know — we have to keep the damp out.’

I didn’t go in either cottage, or keep them lingering in the cold: I wanted to get on and get my errands done so I could have a quiet lunch. . and I had Gran’s latest journal in the pocket of my rucksack. I had a feeling I was going to be too busy after this to spend much time relaxing.

There was a call box in the village, but it was out of order and goodness knows how much change I would have needed to call a mobile phone in the USA, anyway! I stayed in there out of the cold while I tried the number Noël had given me on my phone, but a disembodied voice told me it was unavailable.

Well, at least I had tried. . and, since I’d been braced to deal with Jude’s brusqueness (especially when I told him I’d be billing him for the call), I now felt strangely deflated!

Mrs Comfort, who was sitting behind the shop counter knitting, perked up and greeted me with enthusiasm, especially when I said I needed a few last-minute presents.

‘Gifts are mostly through in the Merry Kettle,’ she said, pointing through the open door into the café where the overflow of her goods was displayed, probably to tempt the visitors in summer while they consumed their cream teas.

I could feel her eager, beady eyes boring into my back as I looked around at the limited selection of toys, games and novelties. There was also a large wooden display stand of everything from mugs to dishcloths printed with inspirational thoughts and labelled ‘The Words of Comfort Range from Oriel Comfort’.

I was curious more than anything, because I’d already decided to make my emergency gifts myself: I’d noticed a cache of old, clean jam jars, wax discs, labels and cellophane lids in the scullery at Old Place and I intended filling them with sweets.

So I bought lots of the brightly coloured shiny ones that Jess liked, along with wine gums, humbugs, Liquorice Allsorts, mint imperials and coconut mushrooms, then added Sellotape, Christmas tags and a big roll of flimsy, cheerfully garish gift-wrap. I even found some red gingham paper napkins that could be cut into circles to make covers for the jars, too, and a bag of elastic bands to secure them.

As my pile of purchases mounted up on the counter, Mrs Comfort looked cheerier and cheerier and began to make helpful suggestions.

‘Noël likes Turkish Delight,’ she confided, ‘and his missis likes Milk Tray chocolates — he often buys her some. This is the last of the Turkish Delight, you’re in luck. And what about these chocolate tree decorations?’

Unbidden, she added them to the heap and then cast her eyes over her stock, obviously wondering what else she could offload onto me.

I whisked out my shopping list. ‘There are a few things I need, if you have them, like cocoa powder, icing sugar, jelly. .’

In fact, there weren’t many things she didn’t have. It felt a bit like watching a magician producing endless doves from a top hat.

‘And you’ll want the last tins of squirty cream,’ she urged me. ‘We’ve already got tons of the stuff!’

‘Love it, they do, at the lodge,’ she assured me. ‘Can’t get enough of it.’

I ticked the last thing off (more matches) with a sigh: I was wondering how I would get everything up the hill again, unless George spotted me.

Oriel took a new tack: ‘Old Nan, she likes chocolate mints and the vicar is partial to humbugs. Henry’s more of an Uncle Joe’s Mint Ball man.’

Surely, I thought, I wouldn’t need presents for people I’d barely met, who were only coming for dinner? But then, it might be better to be sure than sorry.

‘All right,’ I capitulated, ‘but I ought to leave Henry’s now, in case I don’t see him again before Christmas.’

‘I’ll slap a bit of gift-wrap on it for free and take it across later, shall I?’ she suggested obligingly.

‘If you wouldn’t mind, that would be great.’

‘Not at all.’

‘Well, that must be everything!’

But she wasn’t about to let me go without a struggle. ‘What about Jess’s Christmas stocking? Got everything you need for that?’

I stared at her, startled. A stocking on Christmas morning like all my friends had had was the thing I’d most desperately longed for when I was a little girl: but surely Jess was now too old?

‘She’s nearly thirteen, so I would have thought she was too grown up for one this year? But if she isn’t then I suppose her mother or Tilda will have seen to it.’

‘Perhaps — perhaps not. And in my experience, you’re never too old for a stocking. Perhaps you should take a couple of bits and pieces, just in case they’ve forgotten about it?’

‘Like what? I’ve no idea what she would like!’

‘Let me see,’ she mused. ‘It’s a funny age: they’re a child one minute, quite grownup the next.’

She took down a jar containing sugar mice with string tails in white, lurid yellow, or pink and prepared to give me a master class in Christmas stocking preparation.

‘You need one of these at the bottom, with a tangerine or something like that to start with. When I was a little girl there used to be a handful of nuts, though I never knew why, since you could hardly crack Brazil nuts in bed with your teeth, could you?’

‘We’ve got fruit and nuts, but I don’t think Jess would be very excited by finding them in her stocking, since she can help herself any time she likes.’

‘It helps to fill it up, but we can put in a packet of Love Hearts instead. Most of my toys are too young for her, but there’s a pack of Happy Family cards and a couple of jokes, like the whoopee cushion and the ink blot, that I expect she’d like. And maybe a fluffy toy sheepdog? I keep them for the summer visitors, with the postcards and stuff.’

‘Do you think she’s a fluffy toy sort of girl?’ I asked doubtfully, but she was already delving deep into a large wicker basket and came up with a black, wolfish-looking creature with yellow eyes that had been lurking at the bottom.

‘I just remembered — this came in mixed with the last lot of collies, and I never got round to sending it back.’

‘Right,’ I said, and then on impulse added an elasticated bracelet of polished dark grey stones.

‘How about a jigsaw puzzle? I always think a big puzzle is something the whole family can do together on Christmas Day.’

‘I’m sure I saw a whole stack of them in the old nursery,’ I said quickly.

‘This one’s got a lovely Christmas scene on the front — and if you return it afterwards with all the pieces, I’ll buy it back for half price,’ she added enticingly and, my willpower totally sapped by now, I nodded dumbly.

Paying for that lot pretty well cleaned me out of cash, since Mrs Comfort didn’t take cards of any kind, and once I’d filled the rucksack I had to buy a big jute bag with one of Oriel’s inspirational thoughts on it: A Loving Heart Keeps You Warm on Winter’s Nights.

It had been a choice between that or Love Circles — Pass It On.

You know, when I looked closer, the things on that stand were irresistibly awful!

I hauled my purchases over to the church and sat on a stone bench in the porch out of the wind, to phone Laura on my mobile. (I did dutifully try Jude’s number again, but got the same message.)