Trisha Ashley - Twelve Days of Christmas

‘We’ll just have to keep rescuing each other if we get cornered,’ suggested Michael.

‘Aren’t you two ever coming back into the sitting room?’ Jess asked, appearing in the doorway still wearing her jewelled crown. ‘I’m bored again!’

‘Just finished,’ I said, putting the mugs on the tray to carry through, along with some Parmesan twists and little bowls of nuts and olives.

Jess came right into the kitchen and directed an interrogative stare at Michael. ‘Michael, do you fancy Holly? Only Guy and George and Uncle Jude do.’

‘Jess!’ I exclaimed.

‘No,’ he answered gravely, ‘I think she’s a really nice person and I hope we’ll always be good friends, but I don’t fancy her in the least.’

‘Oh good, that’s exactly what I thought,’ she said, her brow clearing. ‘She doesn’t really like Uncle Guy that much, I can tell, and George is way, way, too old. So that just leaves Uncle Jude, doesn’t it?’

‘To do what?’ asked Jude, bringing in a tray full of dirty glasses — all lovely old lead crystal ones that would need hand-washing.

‘Oh, we were only discussing who’s got a sweet tooth,’ I said quickly. ‘Jess, do you want me to show you how to make instant microwave meringues and chocolate cake in a mug?’

‘What, now?’ she asked. ‘Isn’t it too late?’

‘Not really — it only takes a few minutes. Then you can eat them before you go to bed.’

‘Great,’ she said. ‘I wish you were always here, Holly — don’t you, Uncle Jude?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, sombrely regarding me. ‘She’s a bit like an irritating speck of grit in an oyster, and I’m not sure if she’s going to turn into a pearl or not.’

If Michael and Jess are right, and Jude is a little bit attracted to me, it sounds as if he really doesn’t want to be — and I feel exactly the same way about him!

Gran’s story has turned terribly sad, but of course I now see where it’s all heading and feel so glad that someone as nice as my grandfather rescued her! But no wonder she was so reserved and totally buttoned up after that!

However, though I can guess the outcome, I’m determined not to jump ahead to the last entries, but read it in order, even though after her decision to go and see the minister she spent three more whole pages in examining the state of her conscience and the depth of her guilt in such exhaustive depth it eventually sent me to sleep.

This morning, after I’d let Merlin out and given the horses a bit of carrot each, I came back in to put the kettle on, only to find Jude already in the kitchen dressed in old jeans and a navy sweater ready for action, sitting by the table putting on his socks.

‘Do you think you could rescue my other wellie sock from Jess some time and remove the pink ribbon?’ he asked, looking up. ‘This is my only other pair and they’re going through at the heels.’

‘Okay, unless you’d prefer me to sew matching ribbon to the other, instead?’

‘Perhaps not,’ he said and then went off saying he was going to replenish the logs in the cellar from the ones in the wood store outside, because we’d got through an awful lot and the next ones could be drying out.

Later he cleaned the ashes from the sitting-room fire before going back out to see to the horse: these were all the sort of jobs I was only too happy to relinquish to him. Well, except looking after Lady: I enjoy spending time with her now.

When I’d fed Merlin I consulted my menus and schedule for the day, so that by the time he returned from the stables, I was well on the way to getting some turkey and ham pies in the oven.

He proved useful for making cups of tea while I was working and then he sat in a chair by the Aga out of the way with a sketchbook, his eyes following me around the room as I made a tray of mincemeat flapjacks and then cast a few fresh additions into the bubbling soup pot.

Now that I knew the way Jude’s eyes followed me round the room was just an impersonal artistic scrutiny, it didn’t really bother me at all. In fact, I kept forgetting he was there and carrying on like I always did when alone — talking to Merlin as I tossed him the odd scrap and, I expect, occasionally singing. I suppose I get almost as engrossed in my work as he does in his.

‘There we are,’ I said eventually, ticking a couple more things off the day’s schedule, ‘just breakfast to get ready now.’

‘Do you get up and go on like this early every morning?’ he asked curiously.

‘I do when I’ve got a house-party job. When it’s house-sitting, of course, I just see to the pets, or plants, or whatever I’m keeping an eye on, then the day is my own,’ I said pointedly. ‘When I’m cooking, though, I find it best to plan the menus and schedule in advance to make it all so much easier later.’

‘I feel really guilty now, especially since you keep saying you won’t accept any extra money. I’ll have to think of some other way of thanking you for all this hard work.’

‘So you said. But don’t bother, because I volunteered to do it — though of course, I didn’t know it would be double the number of people I originally invited.’

He put his sketchbook away and helped me to cook the breakfast which, as I said to him, seemed to be the one meal he could put together without a microwave.

‘You obviously haven’t found my secret cache of microwave all-in-one all-day frozen breakfasts yet, then,’ he said sardonically. ‘Though you can talk, after teaching Jess how to make microwave desserts last night!’

‘I’m not against microwaves, it’s just what you do with them. The meringues and cake are a short cut, but also fun. And now they have the Tilda seal of approval.’

‘They have my seal of approval too, come to that and, by the way, I expect you down at the studio again after lunch.’

‘I thought you’d finished with me yesterday?’

‘No, don’t you remember? I said I wanted to make a maquette or two next.’

‘Yes, but I didn’t think you’d need me for that. And it’s Sunday, so another early cooked dinner — cold cuts, roast potatoes and vegetables. I must raid Henry’s carrot store, I gave the last to the horses. Oh, and pudding will be frozen Arctic Roll, specially requested by Noël. It has to be one of your favourites, too, because there are six in the freezer.’

‘It is,’ he admitted, ‘but strange as it may seem, I like it with lots of hot custard poured over it.’

‘Well, that can be arranged, even if it does seem weird. But then, I suppose Baked Alaska is a bit odd, too.’

‘I expect Richard will hold a short church service today, seeing the regular vicar won’t be able to get through,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Guy can take Becca, Noël and Tilda down in my Land Rover if they want to go, which they probably will, and stay in the pub until he brings them back. Coco and Michael could go with him, so long as he doesn’t let Coco get drunk again.’

‘I’d quite like to go to the pub,’ I said wistfully, ‘but I’d better stay here and get dinner ready instead.’

‘I’m afraid they’re bound to bring Old Nan and Richard back with them,’ he said apologetically. ‘And did anyone tell you that they always come on New Year’s Eve for dinner too? They can be more audience for the revived Twelfth Night readings.’

‘No-one tells the cook anything. But two more won’t put me out unduly. There’s soup to start with, loads of turkey and ham, and I’ll do a few extra vegetables.’

‘I think there’s still a jar or two of Mrs Jackson’s fruit chutney in the larder,’ he said.

‘There is and I brought some of my own apricot chutney, too.’

I could hear people stirring in the house now — the clank of the water pipes, the creaking of old floorboards and, not least, the unmistakable thump of Jess’s feet as she ran across the landing and galloped down the wooden stairs.

‘Everyone’s about to appear — and these sausages are done, so I’m off to the studio,’ Jude said, handing the tongs to me. ‘Tell Guy about church and the Land Rover. I’ll see you later — and I’m not coming back for lunch so bring me something to eat.’

‘Yes, boss,’ I said sarcastically, and that totally transforming smile lit his face again for an instant: then one blink and it was gone — and so was he.

Later Guy, Coco and Michael all managed to squeeze into Jude’s Land Rover along with the church party, including a mutinous Jess who would rather have gone to the pub. Noël said they would come back up with George, who he was sure wouldn’t mind giving them a lift in his larger vehicle, along with Old Nan and the Vicar.

It looked a bit uncomfortably sardine-like, even though Jess and Coco didn’t take up much room and Tilda is the size of your average fairy. Becca is pretty substantial in the beam end, though. Once they were in, the windows immediately fogged up and Guy leaned across Coco and cranked down the passenger side.

‘You can phone your mum and see if your father is feeling better yet, Coco,’ I suggested and she looked at me blankly.

‘Why? It doesn’t matter if he is, because it’s too late. My engagement is totally over.’

‘And not even a Birkin bag to go back to,’ Guy commiserated and she flushed angrily.

‘I hate you, Guy Martland!’

He ignored her and instead said invitingly to me, ‘Sure you won’t come? You can sit on my lap.’