A Proper Family Christmas (16 page)

No signal. There was
still
no bloody signal! She ran on down the path at the side of the house, seeing nothing but the display on the phone…

It was useless. She'd known it would be really. Here she was, out in the dark and cold, cut off from friends and family, who she'd probably never see again… And now - oh lord - something was moving, crunching on the gravel at the front of the house! Frances hurried back inside and re-bolted the door.

And then, as she sat at the kitchen table, taking great breaths, she remembered that not everyone relied on mobiles. Stupid girl! She knew William had a telephone in the hall. - It was even possible that it contacted the outside world in the normal way! She could offer to pay for the call…

But even as she went to pick it up, she realised this was no good. Voices came from the dining-room close by. Any moment someone would come out, and she certainly didn't want anyone else at Haseley House to overhear what she had to say to her family. Was there an extension somewhere? She opened a door.

“Oh! …Sorry.”

She'd been so sure they were all at dinner, but no, here was that wretched man again, - the ‘burglar', Leo Watlington. Why did he make such a habit of sitting in rooms on his own?

She would have retreated instantly, but he called her back. “Yes? What do you want?”

Awkwardly she explained about the phone.

“God, no! You won't get a signal in this place. - Hills all round, and the yokels wouldn't think of defiling them with anything as progressive as a phone mast!”

“I suppose not. Anyway, I'm sorry for disturbing you…”

But Leo seemed unwilling to let her go. He asked about her family and education, and having learnt that she'd hoped to have gone to art college if things had worked out differently, revealed that he himself was a writer. The pause for her to insert a suitably admiring comment was the only one he gave after that.

“I don't have to explain to
you
the problems a creative artist has in getting recognition. The moguls of modern publishing have no imagination. All they're interested in is so-called popular fiction, - pap to fill the station bookstalls, and when you present them with a work of - yes, I have to say it - real literary merit…”

Frances listened in ever increasing amazement as Leo held forth on the subject of his own talents. How desperate must the poor man be, if he felt he had to impress the nanny?

She was trying to think how to get away and find a phone, when something caught her eye, - a movement at the window. …God, someone was out there! No, not another burglar! She really didn't think she could take it.

With pounding heart she watched as a figure loomed up out of the darkness and pressed its nose against the glass, making a ghastly distorted face. It spread its hands in a claw-like action and slowly slid down the pane, like something in a horror film. From there the creature dropped to its knees, and clasped its hands together in a pleading gesture. It wanted to be let into the house!

Leo at last realised her attention was elsewhere, and turned to see what she was looking at.

“What on earth…? Oh, for heaven's sake!” Somewhat to her surprise, he seemed to be expressing impatience rather than fear.

“Let me in!” The voice came clearly through the glass now. Leo, one burglar colluding with another, found the catch on the window and threw it open.

A lithe young man climbed through, and stood on the carpet grinning mischievously at Frances. He had curly brown hair and thick eyebrows, which might have looked fierce if it wasn't for the twinkle in the green eyes beneath them.

“Well, - just in time to rescue a damsel in distress, it appears! Is this man annoying you?”

“Oh no…” Frances began to stammer politely, although the stranger seemed to have summed up the situation quite well.

Leo looked sour. “What on earth are
you
doing here, Daniel?”

“I might ask the same of you.”

“Well you needn't,” said Leo pettishly. “I'm here for Christmas, with the rest of the family. - I brought your mother down with me, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh Lord, did you?” Daniel pulled a horrified face. “She'll never forgive me!”

“Didn't you realise she was here?” Leo was puzzled.

“Yes, of course. That's why I came. I was supposed to be climbing in Scotland with some mates, but someone made a balls up and we'd nowhere to stay. …I've been on the road all day, arrived at last, shattered and starving, and then no one would answer the door!”

“Would you like some dinner?” Frances came to her senses and spoke for the first time. “The others are all in the dining-room. They started some time ago, but…”

“
What
? You mean everyone else is having dinner, and nobody bothered to fetch me?” Leo's expression was so appalled, it was hard not to laugh. Frances caught Daniel's eye and looked away quickly.

“Oh dear, Leo. They must have forgotten you existed!” he said with a naughty grin. “Never mind. Let's go and see if there's anything left.”

* * *

Poor William, thought Hilary, - he didn't stand a chance. As soon as Stephen and Lesley realised that Margery was trying to persuade him to undertake a major repair programme, they jumped on the bulldozer and added their weight.

“That's an excellent idea, isn't it, Father? It's only sensible to protect a valuable asset like Haseley by investing a little bit now for the future…”

Whose future, she wondered? Eighty-year-old William's, or the people who hoped to inherit the house?

“…You could always move into a care home while the work's being done, - on a temporary basis, of course.”

No one else seemed to have noticed that Oliver had been left rather isolated at the end of the table, with his neighbours' backs so firmly turned in the other direction. He caught Hilary's gaze and gave a rueful smile.

She was just wondering how offended Julia would be if she suggested swapping seats with Lesley, when Julia spoke instead.

“So what are everyone's plans for tomorrow? - Last chance for Christmas shopping! Tony and I have a few little things left to get, and we simply must have a tree, mustn't we?”

“A bit more booze wouldn't come amiss,” Tony added. “What do you say, Lesley?”

Lesley looked startled at the implication that she was a drinker, then realised what he meant. “Oh, shopping! No, Stephen and I have got everything we need. …I think we'd prefer to find a rather more mind-stretching activity for Tobias tomorrow, - something educational. Isn't there a museum at Cirencester?”

Julia made a face. “Well if you're sure the poor little lamb would rather do that than MacDonald's…”

“Sounds like your kind of thing, Oliver, - a museum.” said Tony. “Why don't you show young Tobias what's what, while the rest of us hit the shops?”

Stephen glanced at Lesley in alarm. “Oh no, I don't think…”

“What? …No, Oliver doesn't want to go to Cirencester tomorrow,” Margery broke off her argument to inform them. “William's going to give him a tour of the house, so he can write his thing for Country Life.”

“I could do that,” said Hilary. “…Not write the article. Take Oliver round the house, I mean.”

She flushed. Was she being too pushy? But Stephen and Lesley had looked so appalled at the idea of him joining them, - presumably afraid of being upstaged by his superior knowledge of antiquities, and she was sure William wouldn't want to spend his time traipsing up and down the stairs. …Oh, sod it! Why not just admit to herself that she would enjoy a morning in Oliver's company? She would love to show him all the little eccentricities that made her so fond of Haseley, - the unexpected rooms and oddly-placed cupboards and bits of old wallpaper hidden behind doors. She knew he'd appreciate them just as she did.

“Thank you. I'd be very grateful.”

He smiled at her, and for a moment she felt… What? She wasn't entirely sure, so instantly had it been succeeded by a pang of guilt. Christ, how could a man who wasn't Ben cause her to feel anything like that spark of delight? …No, of course it wasn't wrong to be happy. She'd had to tell herself this numerous times, when the cloud of her bereavement began to lift and let in the occasional ray of sunshine. But to find enjoyment in the normal little pleasures of life again was one thing, - this sudden soaring of her heart quite another!

“What's going on outside?” said Julia suddenly. Sounds could be heard from the hall. “That's not one the nannies, - it's a man's voice. But I thought they were all in here. …Oh dear!
Surely
we can't have forgotten somebody?”

The glint in her eye reinforced Hilary's suspicions regarding Leo's omission from the table.

The door opened, and everyone turned to see, not Leo, but -
Ben
!

“Hi Mum! Hi, Gran! I thought I'd come and check up on you all.”

For a second Hilary really had thought her husband had come to haunt her! …Guilty conscience of course, and the total unexpectedness of seeing Daniel here, when he was supposed to be hundreds of miles away. She recovered, and joined in the babble of laughing questions and explanations. …No dreadful accident, just a mix-up about accommodation. Yes, he really was staying for Christmas, - if Uncle William didn't mind, that was. Mind you, he'd thought he'd have to drive all the way back to London, when he couldn't get anyone to answer the door.

“…And where's that pretty girl who let me in? Who is she?”

“Oh, nobody,” Stephen assured him, “just one of the nannies. I expect she's gone back upstairs.”

Leo, following in Daniel's wake, hadn't a hope of getting attention for his own misfortunes.

“Did I really forget to call you? Oh, how dreadful! …Never mind, come and sit next to Hilary.” Julia revealed that there was plenty of room for two chairs at the head of the table. “Daniel, darling, you go down to the other end.”

Why that way round? Hilary wanted to catch up on all Daniel's news, not be landed with a sulky Leo! Now she was faced with the sight of her son and Oliver sitting side by side, shaking hands and introducing themselves. She found herself watching anxiously. What did the two of them think of each other? How well were they going to get on?

“I suppose that's cold now,” said Leo, wrinkling his nose, “but you might give me some anyway, rather than just sit there with the spoon in your hand! I am quite hungry.”

Scratch the Cat was debating where to spend the night. The tiny room they'd found for Leo had been his first choice, but unfortunately he'd taken the precaution of shutting the door. Oliver's door was closed as well, and he could sleep with William any time, so that was no fun. Up in the attic, though, he was more successful. The door of the children's room had been left ajar so they could be heard in the night, and Scratch remembered he'd once got a very good reaction from sleeping on Tobias's face when he was a baby. …Two for the price of one here! Scratch jumped softly onto the bed and settled down.

CHAPTER 11

The scream woke Frances. She lay there, heart hammering, trying to persuade herself she'd imagined it. After all, her whole night had been disturbed by uncomfortable dreams, - most of them featuring a big old house, with hundreds of doors, where she was desperately searching for something. But she was pretty sure that the scream had been real. She turned to see if Shelley had heard it, but she was dead to the world, head buried in her pillow, just as she'd been when Frances had come to bed.

It had been ages before she could get to sleep last night. Her overtired brain had insisted on replaying images from her long, eventful day: fields on the journey, that first startling sight of Haseley House, and the exhausting procession of new faces, critical or curious or friendly, culminating with the one that most particularly lingered in her mind. If the owner of those mischievous eyes was going to be staying here, perhaps Christmas wasn't going to be so miserable after all!

Hilary heard the scream too, more faintly, but she'd been lying awake some time, trying to make sense of her feelings.

Of course she'd been delighted when Daniel turned up so unexpectedly yesterday evening. It was a huge relief to know that she no longer had to worry about him risking his life mountain-climbing, and she could look forward to having his company for Christmas after all. If she'd been granted a wish by some benevolent fairy, that's exactly what she would have asked for. …So why, for that instant of subconsciousness before her rational mind kicked in, did she feel a tiny sinking of the heart?

She was still trying to pin it down, when she heard the scream. It came from somewhere upstairs, where the children were sleeping, - but it didn't sound quite like a child.

The scream woke Scratch with a most unpleasant start. He leapt off the bed and dived for cover. Tobias and Posy woke more slowly, rubbing their eyes and wondering what was wrong.

Stephen appeared, in bare feet and pyjamas, and seeing both children safe, also looked round in puzzlement for the source of the disaster.

“That animal… that dreadful creature… was trying to
smother
Tobias!” Lesley, still hysterical, explained her reason for rousing the household. “…Yes, he was,” she insisted, as Stephen made dubious noises. “I found him asleep
right
on top of the children!”

Curiosity brought Kath Arncott in to work that morning. She had every excuse not to come in on Christmas Eve - public holiday, wasn't it? And anyway, the old man wasn't supposed to be there, if things had gone to plan, never mind with a house full of people! Yes, she'd be quite within her rights to take the day off, as she'd make clear to him later.

But there wasn't much going on at home, - nothing to do but try to keep the kids from killing each other. They were a pain at holiday time …And there was so much going on at Haseley House! She'd missed the late arrivals, with having to go back last night, and she was longing to see what they all made of each other, and how Lesley had enjoyed sleeping in that room, and whether the poor new nanny had stuck it out, or already fled the scene. She settled the boys in front of the TV, with strict instructions not to switch to any of those unsuitable channels their Dad had installed before he went away, and set off up the hill, prepared to play grudging with William.