The Christmas Invitation

by Trisha Ashley

  ‘Push her off, dear,’ said Sybil.

  ‘It’s all right, I like dogs,’ I said. Even strange little sausage dogs with one flyaway ear, a kinky tail and a slight look of having been put together by someone with a sense of humour and their eyes shut.

  ‘The boy’s turning into a skinflint,’ Tottie said.

  ‘Oh, no, he’s not that bad,’ protested Sybil. ‘It’s just that the renovations are costing so much more than the estimates … and then, there’s very little money to do it with, since most of what Daddy left was tied up in my annuity.’

  ‘Henry said he’d left you enough to live on very comfortably,’ Clara said.

  ‘Yes, but not to pay all my expenses for the horses, as well as investing some of my income in the business, which was another of Mark’s suggestions. His latest idea is that I earn my keep as some kind of receptionist-cum-hostess! He’s considering turning the old housekeeper’s room and bedroom near the kitchen into a sort of small flat for me.’

  The prospect didn’t appear to fill her with joy.

  ‘Why? He can’t want all the bedrooms for guests, surely?’ asked Clara.

  ‘He says he will.’ I thought Sybil had forgotten I was there, but evidently she talked as frankly about personal matters in front of total strangers as the Doomes did, because she explained for my benefit: ‘The plan is that the Gidneys will stay on as they are now. They live in a cottage in the grounds and Gidney looks after things generally while Mrs Gidney is housekeeper and cook. But Mark has two friends who will come to stay during the wedding season to cater exclusively for the receptions.’

  ‘Which will be a short season, with the weather as it is up here – and if he gets the business off the ground,’ Tottie said.

  ‘He applied for all the permissions needed ages ago, before he came back permanently, and the barn is nearly completed,’ Sybil said. ‘The builders knocked through into the old scullery before they downed tools and left.’

  ‘Mrs Gidney won’t like sharing her kitchen, will she?’ Clara said.

  ‘She won’t have to, because several of the small rooms behind it, which back on to the barn wall, have been knocked together into what will become one huge new catering-standard kitchen.’

  ‘It all sounds very expensive,’ Clara said, then added to Mark as he reappeared, ‘What exactly are you planning for Underhill?’

  Mark was carrying a large tray, laden with a teapot, crockery and a plate piled with sandwiches.

  ‘If those dogs come anywhere near the food, they’re going out in the hall,’ he said, sitting down opposite and favouring me with another slightly smouldering, but seemingly approving, stare.

  ‘Underhill needs to pay its way if it’s to stay in the family,’ he said to me, as if we were alone together. ‘My grandfather didn’t leave much money and what there was, was tied up.’

  He gave his mother a look as if that had been all her fault.

  ‘Your mother looked after George for several years with little thanks and no salary, so it was right that he should provide for her,’ Clara said. ‘She only had a bit of a widow’s pension and what she made from breeding the dogs.’

  ‘It needn’t have been so much, though. In fact, you can’t really need half of it, Mum, so I’ve no idea what you do with it all.’

  ‘Oh, but it’s not that much, Mark …’ Sybil protested, looking flustered, so that I started to wonder if she might indeed have a secret vice, though it was hard to imagine what. ‘Now I’m starting to pay for the horses’ upkeep it’s going to make quite a dent in my income: shoeing, feed and the vet’s bills.’

  ‘And it will have to stretch to paying some of Len’s wages too, if he’s going to continue as groom as well as my gardener,’ Mark pointed out.

  Sybil looked crushed and Mark turned to me again.

  ‘I’m going to advertise the manor as a wedding reception venue – that will all be in the old barn and coach house, which I’ve thrown into one big room – and I hope to hold weddings too, eventually. Perhaps in the hall; the half-landing would make a great stage for the ceremony with the guests standing below.’

  ‘I can imagine that,’ I agreed. ‘Or, at least, I could if it was brighter and warmer.’

  ‘I only intend opening from spring to early autumn, because you can’t trust the weather up here outside that. It means it’ll have to be very upmarket and expensive, so I can make a lot of money in a short space of time.’

  He’d obviously thought it out, but would people be willing to come all the way out here to the back of beyond for their receptions?

  ‘I’ll just shut the place up in winter, with the Gidneys to look after it, and go off to Italy,’ he continued. ‘I have a house there.’

  Presumably his mother would also be shut up at Underhill for the winter with the Gidneys.

  ‘I should be able to create six letting bedrooms with en-suite facilities, plus my apartment over the east wing and another suite of rooms for Art and Gerry.’

  ‘Art and Gerry are Mark’s friends,’ explained Sybil. ‘Art is a chef and Gerry … arranges things.’

  ‘Gerry has a lot of artistic flair and he’ll organize everything for the receptions – flowers, table settings, all of that,’ said Mark. ‘And Art will cater for the wedding dinners, or buffets, or whatever they choose, and cook for any of the bridal party staying here.’

  ‘The boy has got it all planned out, you have to hand him that,’ Tottie said, and the boy – who looked to be not much younger than my thirty-six years – scowled at her. It seemed to be his default expression. He should really have been born to an earlier generation because he was an Angry Young Man personified.

  Sybil began to pour tea and Tottie passed plates. I was happy to see there were cheese and tomato sandwiches as well as egg and cress, and no sign of the ham.

  Mark began to tell me all the details of his renovation ups and downs, which were amusing. His determination that he would finish in time to open in spring, no matter what, was quite admirable.

  I did think he was being more than a bit mean towards his mother, but I could see he needed every last penny he could scrape together. And also, he must love Underhill to do it, though he seemed to love his Italian house even more, and waxed lyrical about the sun, the vines, the lemon tree in the garden and the beautiful views … which I must come and see on a visit one of these days.

  After he made this suggestion I caught Clara’s thoughtful eyes on us and blushed slightly.

  Then she transferred her gaze to Sybil and said, ‘I thought you’d found someone who was going to buy Pansy?’

  Sybil sighed. ‘I thought so too, and I did tell them I was reducing the price because she was not show standard, but then when they saw her they said she wasn’t at all what they expected and went away again.’

  ‘I think she’s perfect – so sweet!’ I said, stroking her silky head. She and her mother had been eyeing the food and sighing heavily from time to time, but making no attempt to scrounge. I suspected had Mark not been there, things would have been different.

  ‘She’s certainly taken to you, Meg,’ Tottie said.

  The feeling was definitely mutual, but did I need a little dog to complicate my life?

  13

  Grinched

  Despite all his talk about frugality, Mark was doing full justice to the tea. The large number of sandwiches he ate seemed to have mellowed him a little, for he said fairly indulgently to the dogs, ‘Funny little things!’

  Seemingly encouraged by this thawing, Sybil said timidly, ‘I had a letter from Uncle Piers this morning, Mark, saying how much he was looking forward to spending Christmas at Underhill with us again.’

  ‘Does he know it’s a building site? I mean, he hasn’t been to stay with you since Mark got back, has he?’ Tottie said. Then she explained to me, ‘Piers Marten was a very old friend of Mark’s grandfather and he used to spend a lot of time here.’

  ‘He and George were as thick as thieves,’ agreed Clara. ‘And as
bad as each other. Luckily there was an extensive cellar at Underhill, so they could concentrate on drinking that dry during his visits.’

  Sybil made a small protesting noise, but not with any great conviction.

  Mark was looking angry again, which just meant adding another layer to his fall-back expression. ‘Mum, I told you last time he suggested visiting that I’d had enough of him freeloading here … unless he has hidden talents in the plumbing, plastering or redecorating line?’

  ‘He’s the same age as Grandpa would have been – they trained at Sandhurst together – so he’s not really up to that kind of thing, Mark, darling … and there’s some sort of family rift, so he prefers to stay with us for Christmas and New Year.’

  ‘“Stays” being the operative word, since he lingers on as long as he possibly can,’ said Mark. ‘It’s a habit he’ll have to break, because Underhill isn’t a private house any more, but a business.’

  ‘But it will still be our family home,’ protested Sybil. ‘And as to Piers,’ she added anxiously, ‘couldn’t we—’

  ‘No,’ he snapped. ‘For a start, I’ll be working right through Christmas, painting and decorating and doing any other jobs I’m capable of, so I’m not hosting any kind of house party.’

  ‘But surely you’ll have a break over Christmas?’ said Clara.

  ‘Yes, darling, and you know we always have Clara, Henry, Tottie, Lex and Teddy here for dinner on Christmas Eve,’ said Sybil. ‘And then—’

  ‘Not this year,’ he broke in. ‘It’s all a big expensive fuss over nothing, so this time there’ll be just the two of us. I’ll take Christmas Day off and we’ll have dinner as usual, and that will be it. I haven’t got time to waste lolling about, overeating and making polite conversation.’

  ‘You do remind me so much of Teddy’s book about the Grinch who stole Christmas,’ said Clara, and he gave her an impatient look.

  ‘I shouldn’t worry about Piers, Sybil,’ Clara said. ‘His ex-wife is a friend of a friend, and apparently the children take it in turns to invite Piers for Christmas, because they feel they ought to, family rift or no family rift, so he has got somewhere else to go.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right – and he did spend Christmas quite comfortably at his club, when Daddy was so ill – but it doesn’t sound at all like our usual Christmas,’ murmured poor Sybil. ‘The opposite of what your grandfather would have wanted. He did enjoy Christmas so much.’

  ‘Yes, it was about the only thing he and Henry had in common,’ Clara agreed.

  ‘If Grandfather hadn’t lavished most of his capital on racehorses and high living, I might not be trying to turn Underhill into a business,’ Mark pointed out.

  Sybil sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right, darling. But one guest wouldn’t make much difference, surely, so Piers—’

  ‘No,’ he said intransigently. ‘That’s my final word.’

  ‘Sybil, why don’t you come and stay with us for Christmas this year?’ Clara suggested. ‘If Mark ate his Christmas dinner with us, too, it would let the Gidneys have the whole day to themselves, and eradicate the need for an expensive turkey and all the trimmings. You can live off the ham while you’re renovating, dear,’ she added to Mark.

  ‘Oh, could I?’ said Sybil gratefully. ‘That would be so wonderful, because it’s such a building site upstairs and downstairs the dust has got everywhere, you have no idea.’

  ‘I’ll be surprised if your workmen return before the end of January,’ Clara told Mark. ‘You never know what the weather will do up here. A hard frost and the roads out could be lethal with ice.’

  ‘I’ll just carry on doing what I can,’ he said impatiently. ‘You go to the Red House if you want to, Mum, and you’d better write to Piers and tell him he can’t come to Underhill because you’re going away. That will settle him.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you, Clara,’ Sybil said.

  ‘Not at all,’ Clara said. ‘We’ll love it.’

  ‘Do come, it will be such fun!’ urged Tottie.

  ‘As long as you don’t mind Wisty and Pansy?’ asked Sybil.

  ‘Oh, no, Lass loves playing with them,’ Clara said. ‘Mark, you will have Christmas dinner with us, won’t you?’

  ‘Thanks, that would be good,’ he said ungraciously.

  ‘It’s going to be a full house. Henry will be so happy!’ Clara said. ‘Sybil, Lex, Tottie, me, Henry, Teddy, Zelda, Den and Meg …’

  ‘But I’ll probably have finished the portraits before then and left,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll change your mind and stay on!’ Clara said confidently. ‘After all, you’re supposed to be recuperating after an illness, so you need some time off, and then, you know, you might even fancy some other portrait subjects.’

  That was acute of her: there were enough characterful faces in Starstone Edge to keep me busy for a year …

  ‘Besides, Henry’s dying to introduce you to all the delights of Christmas!’ she added, then had to explain that to Sybil and Mark.

  To my surprise Mark said he hoped I wouldn’t rush off and then he invited me to come back soon so he could show me what he was doing to the house, which was kind of flattering until he added, ‘I’d like your opinion on the paintings in the drawing room and the gallery upstairs. I need to sell something to fund the business until it starts to pay its way, and since Mum is totally against my parting with any of the ancestors, however hideous, it’ll have to be the Stubbs.’

  ‘School of,’ corrected Clara.

  ‘Daddy always said it really was a Stubbs,’ Sybil insisted. ‘And I’m sure it must be one of our ancestor’s favourite horses. It’s a very pretty grey Arab.’

  ‘It would be a pretty grey Arab if there wasn’t that slight suggestion that it had more than four legs,’ Clara said.

  ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to tell if it was genuine or not,’ I told Mark hastily. ‘I mean, I’d like to see it, but I’m sure you should get an expert opinion.’

  ‘Mark’s grandfather already did,’ said Tottie. ‘School of. He just wouldn’t accept it.’

  ‘It’ll probably fetch enough anyway,’ Mark said. ‘One of the portraits Mother won’t let me sell is a Lely and the insurance is horrendous. I wish I could sell that.’

  ‘The insurance for a real Stubbs would have been even worse,’ I pointed out.

  ‘I suppose there is that,’ he said.

  ‘Why don’t you get one of the big auction houses to take a look at them?’ I suggested, but he persuaded me into agreeing to go over again in a few days and have a look.

  When it was time to leave, I discovered I was holding Pansy in my arms, like a furry baby, and she did her best to go home with me.

  ‘She has taken a fancy to you and, of course, I’d sell her really cheaply,’ hinted Sybil hopefully.

  ‘She’s adorable!’ I bent down to stroke her silky head. ‘I’d love a dog, but I really can’t afford it at the moment. And anyway, my current lifestyle, travelling so much, would make it difficult.’

  Sybil looked disappointed, but seemed to accept that, though Pansy gave me a look of deep reproach when I left without her …

  On the drive back, Clara warned me that Mark was a bit of a flirt, as she put it, but had never had a serious relationship that she knew about.

  ‘Perhaps he has, in Italy,’ I suggested.

  ‘Possibly, but last time he was home he had a fling with Teddy’s old nanny, Flora, who was visiting her aunt in the village, and I’m sure the poor girl thought it meant more than it did.’

  I assured her that I wasn’t interested him in that way, which I wasn’t, especially if he was a love rat!

  ‘He’s very attractive in his own way, but not my type at all,’ I said. ‘I was engaged a few years ago, but I broke it off after … something happened that changed how I felt about him.’

  Clara tactfully didn’t ask me what that something was, which was just as well because I still found it very hard to talk about.

&
nbsp; ‘So, no significant others, as they say, since then?’

  ‘No, I decided the painting is enough for me – and a quiet life.’

  ‘You’ll certainly get a quiet life up here,’ Clara said, turning into the drive to the Red House.

  I went straight up to change and found there were short brown hairs stuck to my jeans, which made me smile. Pansy was such an imperfectly perfect dachshund … and perhaps, if I always stayed in my van, rather than in the sitters’ homes, I could have a dog with me?

  It wasn’t really that practical, however, and anyway, I suspected that even if Pansy wasn’t Kennel Club standard, Sybil would still want an impossibly large amount of money for her.

  In our absence, Henry had picked up Teddy from school and they’d gone to visit Lex at Terrapotter.

  Since the next day was Saturday, Teddy was allowed to stay up after dinner that evening. Henry was teaching him to play chess and Tottie, Clara and I played Scrabble. The lack of a TV in the room and people checking their phones every five minutes was just like being back at the Farm … restful. I hadn’t even thought of my phone since my earlier call; in fact, it was probably still somewhere in the studio.

  Teddy didn’t want to go to bed at all, because he was excited about Uncle Lex coming over tomorrow to take the family on the annual Christmas tree hunt.

  I intended lying low until they’d departed, so it was a blow when Henry said, ‘Lex’s staying here tomorrow night, so he can help put the tree up in the hall and fetch the decorations and the artificial tree down from the attic.’

  ‘The boxes are kept in the top attic, which is up a ladder,’ Clara said. ‘A bit awkward. Perhaps you could help him get them down, Meg?’

  My mouth did that silent goldfish opening and closing thing.

  ‘We don’t put up any fresh holly or other greenery till nearer Christmas Day, because it all looks so sad when it goes dead and crunchy, doesn’t it?’ said Tottie, before I could manage to speak.

  ‘Uncle Henry, can I help you choose which of the old decorations go on the tree in here?’ asked Teddy.