Trisha Ashley - Twelve Days of Christmas

Liam gave me a wink and a knowing grin that I found hard to interpret — or perhaps didn’t wish to interpret — then jumped back into the cab and roared off, spraying a generous flourish of grit as he went.

‘I see you found the shop open?’ I said to Michael, with a nod at the bag, and he smiled.

‘Once I’d seen the state of the roads it occurred to me that since we were clearly going nowhere for Christmas, I ought to contribute a bit to the festivities here. Then once I was in the shop, something came over me.’

‘You mean Oriel Comfort came over you: she’s very persuasive. You should see what I bought last time! But come in, you both look freezing.’

Since Coco seemed likely to remain drooping there like a half-melted candle, Michael took her arm and towed her in after him. ‘We’re not too cold, actually — we were freezing when we got to the village, of course, but I left Coco in the pub to phone her parents and thaw out while I was in the shop.’

‘So I see,’ I closed the front door and surveyed her. She swayed slightly and blearily focused her ice-chip eyes on me.

‘Mummy said Daddy had the flu, so Christmas and our engagement party were cancelled anyway! She said there was no point in my rushing back, I should stay here — but they never liked Guy anyway.’

‘Right. .’ I said soothingly, removing her waxed coat and hanging it up on a peg, then pushing her down and pulling off her wellingtons, while Michael divested himself of his own borrowings.

‘And when I said what about my presents, because I was so looking forward to finally getting a Birkin bag, she said, “What Birkin bag?” Coco continued in a high-pitched whine. ‘Can you believe it? I told her months ago to get on the list for one, because it was what I wanted for Christmas, and the stupid cow forgot!’

‘I don’t think you should call your mother a stupid cow,’ I said, any feelings of faint sympathy vanishing abruptly. Coco had all the warmth and emotional depth of a winter puddle: how on earth could seemingly intelligent men like Jude and Guy ever have fallen for her?

She gave me another bleary look and said rudely, ‘Who cares what you think?’ Then she heaved herself up. ‘I’m going to have a hot bath.’

‘Let’s hope she doesn’t fall unconscious and drown in it,’ Michael said, though not with any great concern, so she must have tried even his good nature and patience to the limit. ‘I think I’ll go up and follow suit, if that’s all right?’

‘Yes, good idea. Come on, I’ll make you a hot drink to take with you. Did you have any lunch?’

‘Yes, bread and cheese in the pub, though Coco’s lunch was entirely liquid, as you see. Her parents should have christened her Vodka, not Coco.’

As his contribution to the festivities, Michael had very thoughtfully bought two large boxes of chocolates and three bottles of the special sherry from the pub that Nancy had told him the older members of the party favoured.

‘Oh good,’ I said, relieved. ‘Becca brought some, but the way they knock it back, it wasn’t going to last. And the chocolates will go down well, too.’

‘I’ve also got a small gift for everyone,’ he admitted, ‘from Mrs Comfort’s Sunbeams are God’s Thoughts range.’

‘I bought a few things too, but mine are mostly edible gifts. I’m going to put them under the tree later.’

‘I’ll do the same, then, and I’ve bought wrapping paper, but if you have a roll of Sellotape I could borrow, that would be great.’

He’s such a nice, kind, thoughtful man and I really like him! I’m going to give him one of the extra jars of sweets I’ve already wrapped. I suppose I should give one to Coco, too, but she isn’t going to want sweets, I wouldn’t have thought: too full of sugar.

And nothing, in her eyes, will compare to her longed-for Birkin bag, anyway.

Jude and Jess did the horses together to give Becca a rest and then Guy, all charm, offered to lay the dining table (we were dining more formally tonight, it being Christmas Eve) and help me in any other way, and I took him up on it. He and Michael (who had come back down with his wrapped gifts and put them under the tree), did all the donkey work and carried things through for me.

When everything was under control in the kitchen and everyone was in the sitting room, including a sullen and still not entirely sober Coco dressed in something scarlet and scanty, I took in a tray of filo pastry savoury starters and stayed for a drink.

Michael had presented his sherry and chocolates to Tilda, presumably as titular presiding lady of the house, the alpha female of our wolf pack. He was now so much in favour that when everyone else had gone through to the dining room and he was helping me to carry through the main course, he told me he felt just like an invited house guest and that he thought Christmas at Old Place would probably be more fun than with the friends he was intending to stay with.

‘It’s certainly going to be different to any Christmas I’ve ever had,’ I said, and told him a little about my Strange Baptist upbringing and how I had only really celebrated Christmas in a religious way, apart from the all too brief years of my marriage.

‘And then my husband died in an accident at this time of year, and my mother too — and now my gran, who brought me up: so you see, celebrating Christmas doesn’t come naturally to me!’

‘No, I can see why you would much rather have ignored the whole thing,’ he agreed, and then gave me a kind hug. ‘Poor Holly!’

Jude, who had just come into the kitchen, stopped dead on the threshold. ‘I came to see if you wanted me to do anything for you — but Michael seems to have got that covered,’ he said rather surlily and went out again, closing the door with a near slam.

‘What’s biting him?’ I exclaimed.

‘I expect he thinks we’re getting a bit too friendly,’ Michael said with a grin. ‘He’s probably jealous.’

‘Don’t be daft, he doesn’t like me, so why should he be jealous? Maybe he disapproves of the help getting matey with the guests?’

‘But Coco seems to be the only one who thinks of you as staff.’

‘She appears to be transferring her affections from Guy to you, have you noticed? You’d better watch your step, Michael!’

‘I will, but I expect it’s only because she thinks I can help her into acting — which I can’t, of course, even if she can act, which I doubt very much.’

‘No, I should think she can only play one part: Coco,’ I agreed.

The dining table looked lovely, with a red damask cloth and red candles in the silver holders.

Coco remained silent and sullen for most of dinner, eating little and drinking too much and Jude had gone quite morose too, though he doesn’t appear to be a laugh a minute person anyway. But everyone else seemed in good form even though Jess was clearly over excited about the approach of Christmas Day.

Tilda even complimented me on the pheasant pie and said she couldn’t have done it better herself, though I noticed that Coco merely scraped a little of the middle out of her piece and ate it with about a teaspoon of vegetables. Then she reacted with loathing when offered trifle.

‘But it’s lovely! I did the cream and decorated it, didn’t I, Holly?’ Jess said.

‘Yes, you made it look beautiful. How about an apple or clementine, then, Coco? Or a little cheese?’

‘Cheese is full of fat and I hate fruit.’

‘So what do you usually eat at home?’ I asked curiously.

‘If anything,’ Jude said, sotto voce.

‘Steamed fish and edamame beans,’ Guy said with a grimace.

‘Oh, there’s lots of fish in the freezer, Coco — in fact, we’re having a whole salmon on Boxing Day. But there aren’t any edamame beans.’

‘I don’t even know what they are,’ Jess said.

‘They’ve only really got popular lately — stars seem to eat them a lot. I don’t know why, because I don’t find them very exciting,’ I said.

‘I’m sure Michael knows what they are,’ Coco said, her intimate smile clearly meant to show that they inhabited the same, more sophisticated, world. Now she’d had another glass of wine she’d perked up again, unfortunately, and was turning the full battery of her charm on Michael. He began to look a little nervous.

She said she was sorry she’d been upset earlier, but knew he would understand the artistic temperament. Then she told him all about the facial elixir advert all over again, and how her agent was going to send her for an important role in a new film, and kept on and on, even when Jess sighed loudly and said, ‘We know all about that already, Horlicks!’

But this slightly febrile cheerfulness waned a little when we went back into the sitting room and she spotted the heap of gifts under the tree, because they reminded her that she wasn’t going to get her Birkin bag.

Jess, who had been lovingly fondling the ones with her name on, said, ‘You have got some presents, at least three, Horlicks.’

‘I can’t imagine why you keep calling me by that silly name,’ she said, but looked slightly mollified, though I didn’t imagine that she was going to be delirious with pleasure to receive Michael’s Oriel Comfort-inspired gift, or the jar of bath scrub I’d hastily whipped up in the kitchen from sea salt, olive oil and essential lavender oil.

I didn’t know what the third one was, though going by the rather slapdash wrapping, Jess had put it there. I hoped it wasn’t something horrid.

Jude insisted on making the coffee and bringing it through to the sitting room while I relaxed, which was unexpectedly thoughtful of him, though the gesture was spoiled because he also brought the petits fours I’d intended for Boxing Day. Now I’d have to make some more.

The coffee was good, so he’s not entirely devoid of kitchen talents. He certainly seemed to like marzipan. .

‘Do you happen to have any more ground almonds at the lodge if I run out?’ I asked Tilda.

‘Oh yes, I’m sure we have — Edwina uses them a lot. Do go down and rummage in the kitchen and fetch anything you need,’ she said graciously.

The men went to play snooker in the library and Coco drifted aimlessly after them.

‘Do you think she’s anorexic?’ Becca said. She was puzzling over the big jigsaw, which hadn’t got very far yet. I leaned over her shoulder and moved some pieces of the edge from one side to the other: it was pretty obvious where they went from my angle.

‘She does seem to vanish for ages after every meal,’ Tilda said. ‘Not that she eats much anyway. Maybe she’s throwing it back up?’

‘She eats loads of laxatives,’ Jess said unexpectedly. ‘That’s weird, isn’t it?’

‘How do you know?’ I asked, surprised.

‘I saw her eating what looked like a handful of sweets when she thought she was alone, so I had a look in her handbag and it’s stuffed with packets of Fruity-Go. Her bedside table drawer is, too, and she’s forever going to the loo.’

‘Jess, darling, you really shouldn’t root about in other people’s rooms,’ Tilda said mildly. ‘But no wonder she spends ages in the bathroom!’

‘That must be how she stays as thin as a tapeworm,’ Becca agreed. She and Jess helped carry out the coffee things and then went to play Monopoly with Tilda while I stacked the dishwasher, cleared up the kitchen and fed Merlin.

When I went back into the sitting room, everyone had returned and Guy, Michael and a bored Coco were grouped around the jigsaw puzzle. Jude, Tilda and Jess were finishing a game of Monopoly which Tilda won, a veritable property tycoon.

Noël seemed to be waiting for me. ‘Ah, there you are, m’dear — just in time for a Martland family tradition.’ He picked up a leather-bound copy of Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, and began to read aloud, rather beautifully.

Even Coco stopped her restless movements and fixed her eyes on him, though when he reached the part with the ghosts she kept casting nervous glances over her shoulder, as if one might be standing right behind her.

We all applauded at the end and Noël stood up to take a modest bow. ‘Thank you! We used to read a few scenes from Twelfth Night, too — but on New Year’s Eve.’