by Heidi Swain
He had already driven Catherine, Angus and Dorothy back earlier in the Land Rover, but I had stayed on with Hayley after my generous employers had insisted that I should enjoy the rest of the evening, especially as the next day was Sunday and everyone would be having the day off anyway. I had spent most of the time apologising for biting Hayley’s head off, but she didn’t seem worried by my out-of-character reaction at all. Probably because she hadn’t known me long enough to know how out of character it was.
‘You know what,’ I said to her, as we set off to take her home.
‘What?’ she said, looking soberly across at me as I marvelled at the fact that she had drunk three times as much as I had, but didn’t seem even remotely squiffy.
‘You were right really.’
‘About what?’
‘About me being a Billy-no-mates,’ I said, my usual reticence to talk about myself rather reduced by the impact of the delicious two halves of Skylark Scrumpy.
‘Well, of course you’re a Billy-no-mates,’ she tutted, before bursting out laughing.
I stared at her open-mouthed and feeling really rather appalled that she found my brave announcement, and indeed my alcohol-induced despair, so amusing.
‘That’s why you’ve ended up at Wynthorpe Hall, love,’ Mick said quietly.
I had no idea what he meant.
‘What?’
‘When Angus was sorting through the applications for the job—’ Hayley began.
‘Hayley,’ warned Mick, but she carried on anyway.
‘Yours was the only one that didn’t specify that you wouldn’t be able to work Christmas Day. All the others said they wouldn’t be available on the twenty-fifth because they would be spending the day with their families, but yours didn’t.’
‘Not that he discussed anyone’s application in any real detail with us,’ said Mick defensively.
‘Well, no,’ Hayley relented, turning slightly pink as she finally realised just what she was suggesting, ‘more mentioned them in passing, is what he did, but yours stuck out like a sore thumb apparently,’ she added, thrusting her thumb under my nose to hammer home the point. ‘And he knew.’
‘Knew what?’ I sniffed.
‘That he’d found the right person for the job.’
‘What, because I came across as so lonely, unloved and unwanted?’
Even in my relaxed state I didn’t feel particularly comfortable with the idea that it was my solitary, sad, home-alone status that had secured me the job, rather than my wealth of experience and glowing references.
‘Exactly,’ said Hayley, leaning across to pat my knee as she undid her seat belt. ‘He felt that you and your solo microwave-meal-for-one existence were the missing link in the Wynthorpe chain and I think he was right. I’ll see you Monday, Mick,’ she shouted as she jumped out, ‘and cheer up, Anna. There are worse places you could have ended up.’
I didn’t have even a hint of a hangover and was out of bed before my alarm on Sunday morning. In the kitchen I pulled on my trainers, fired up my Fitbit and cajoled Floss into joining me for a run around the grounds before the rest of the world was awake.
I thought back over snippets of the conversation from the night before as I limbered up, then set off, my feet pounding the frosty paths with Floss panting before we’d even reached the garden. Thanks to the calming impact of the cider I’d slept well, but I still felt uncomfortable that I’d mentioned my one-is-fun, non-celebration Christmases.
It was just starting to get light when I arrived back at the porch door some forty minutes later and I was amused to see the little dog, who had been trailing behind and complaining practically the whole time, have a final burst of energy as she caught the salty scent of bacon as it drifted through an open window and out into the ether.
‘Good Lord!’ squawked Dorothy as I shut the back door with perhaps a little more force than was entirely necessary. ‘Where on earth have you sprung from?’
‘I’ve been for a run,’ I panted, pulling my trainers off again and filling Floss’s water bowl.
‘You scared me half to death,’ she tutted. ‘What on earth do you want to be running about in this weather for? There’s nothing of you to run off as it is.’
‘Like I told you, it’s my way of keeping in shape,’ I shrugged. ‘And it’s not that cold.’
‘What’s the point in me going out of my way to feed you up,’ she complained, shoving a plate of scrambled eggs and yet more crispy bacon into my hands, ‘when you keep tearing about and burning the calories off? You need some meat on your bones if you’re going to survive a Wynbridge winter, young lady.’
‘But I’m not going to need to survive a Wynbridge winter, am I?’ I said, sliding the plate onto the table and heading for the door. ‘I’ll be long gone before winter really digs its heels in.’
I might have managed to avoid the belly-busting breakfast, but there was no escaping the Sunday roast.
‘Although we all get a day off on Sunday,’ explained Dorothy, who was still very much in charge of the kitchen, ‘we all like to eat together if we haven’t got anywhere else to be and that way we can discuss any plans for the following week.’
That sounded like a lovely idea to me, and the accompaniment of roast beef with – my number one guilty pleasure – ginormous slabs of Yorkshire pudding, made it all the more appealing. If Dorothy really was going out of her way to feed me up then she was doing an excellent job, because I could have sworn my waistbands were already feeling the strain. So far I had been trying to resist all temptation but after just a couple of food-filled days in the Fens I was beginning to crumble. I was also beginning to settle in far more quickly than I would have ever thought possible. Wynthorpe Hall had a magical way of making you feel at home, right from the very first moment you crossed the threshold.
‘And once the dishes are done,’ said Mick, reaching for the horseradish, ‘we’ll go and collect your car, Anna.’
‘Thank you, Mick,’ I said, before turning my attention to Catherine. ‘And how are you feeling today, Catherine?’ I asked.
To my mind she looked in perfect health. Her cheeks had a definite glow and there was a sparkle in her eye that could almost rival Angus.
‘I feel wonderful,’ she said, confirming what we could all see for ourselves. ‘It was such a pleasure to get out of the house and especially for such an exciting evening.’
Everyone murmured in agreement and I was pleased my outburst in the pub wasn’t mentioned. The last thing I wanted was to have anyone making a fuss, no matter how well intentioned.
‘I did wonder if I would be a little stiff after all the extra walking about, but there’s no pain in my knee at all.’
‘You certainly sound well on the road to recovery to me,’ I nodded, ‘although perhaps I shouldn’t say that. At this rate, you’ll be sending me away by the end of the week, Angus.’
I still hadn’t really got my head around why he wanted an extra pair of hands at the hall at all. From what I’d already seen Catherine was more than capable of pacing herself, even though her husband thought otherwise, and the household itself, thanks to the competent ministrations of Mick, Hayley and Dorothy, ran like a well-oiled machine.
‘I certainly will not,’ he said, his head snapping up from the sheet of paper he was reading. ‘In fact,’ he said, his cheeks flushing scarlet, ‘it’s looking highly likely that we’re going to need you more than ever now, my dear.’
‘What are you up to, Angus Connelly?’ Catherine frowned. ‘I don’t think I like the sound of that at all. Surely you had enough excitement whizzing around the market square in that sleigh last night to last you a lifetime?’
Dorothy and Mick shook their heads.
‘This is the same Angus Connelly we’re talking about, is it, Catherine?’ said Mick. ‘The person who we all know never has just the one trick tucked up his sleeve?’
‘All right,’ Catherine conceded, ‘I take your point, but I hope this isn’t one of your crazy schem
es, Angus, because even if I am feeling better, I’m certainly not up to dealing with any of your mischief. That sleigh can stay where it is in town as far as I’m concerned.’
Angus carefully folded the sheet of paper, slipped it in his pocket and came round the table to stand next to his wife.
‘I solemnly swear—’ he said, placing a hand on her shoulder and planting a tender kiss on her cheek.
‘That you are up to mischief?’ Catherine mused, taking hold of his hand.
Angus shook his head.
‘On the contrary,’ he said. ‘I solemnly swear,’ he began again, ‘that by this time next week, you’ll be the happiest woman in the world.’
‘So are you going to tell me then?’ I asked as we stood side by side at the sink, me washing the dishes and Angus drying. ‘Are you going to tell me what it is that’s going to make Catherine so happy?’
‘Absolutely not,’ he said, brandishing the tea towel and sending suds flying.
‘But don’t forget that I’m actually here for Catherine,’ I said, trying another tack. ‘I’m here to aid her recovery, so perhaps it would be best if I could prepare her for whatever it is . . .’
‘What,’ said Angus, pretending to be outraged, ‘and ruin the surprise? I don’t think so.’
‘All right,’ I said, ‘keep your secret, but on your head be it if she isn’t pleased and you haven’t given me the opportunity to soften her up first.’
Angus was having none of it. He was clearly well practised in the art of fending off all enquiries that were likely to stop him in his impish tracks.
‘She’s going to be delighted,’ he said, ‘trust me, and I have to say it’s a relief seeing you get stuck into those pots and pans.’
‘Oh,’ I said, trying not to think about the state of my recently manicured nails, ‘and why’s that?’
‘Because,’ Angus whispered, ‘during the next few weeks you’re going to find yourself getting stuck into a lot of little chores that weren’t listed on that job description of yours.’
I felt my heart thump a little harder, but as long as he hadn’t changed his mind about the low-key Christmas he had promised I knew everything would be fine. I was more than capable of playing the role of the adaptable employee and of course, the busier I was at this time of year, the happier I was.
‘Is that right?’ I said, willingly playing along and suddenly realising that the professional persona I had been so sure would be so difficult to throw off had already started to ebb away.
‘It is,’ he said, reaching for a fresh tea towel. ‘I’m calling a family breakfast meeting at seven tomorrow morning, so don’t be late or you’ll miss all the fun.’
I was never late, never. Being on time, early even, was one of my top priorities, so the fact that my alarm didn’t go off, that I missed my run and arrived at the table in a less than pristine state at two minutes after the allotted time the next morning, was mortifying to say the least. Three days I’d been in the employ of Wynthorpe Hall, just three days, and in that time I’d been tipsy, late and sloppy. I really needed to get a grip.
‘I’m so pleased you’ve finally settled into your room,’ smiled Catherine as I slipped into an empty seat. ‘The first proper night’s sleep somewhere new is always a relief, isn’t it?’
‘It is,’ I agreed. ‘Thank you, Catherine.’
Honestly, the woman was a saint.
‘Here,’ said Hayley, passing along a mug of coffee with considerably less discretion. ‘This’ll wake you up. Now come on, Angus, don’t leave us in suspenders.’
Angus, at the head of the table, was looking every inch like the cat that got the cream, the delectable Cornish clotted cream in fact.
‘I’m just waiting,’ he said, tapping away on the screen of his phone, his glasses perched unhelpfully on top of his head, ‘for one more message to come in, and I’ll be right with you.’
The tension and excitement around the table was palpable and I didn’t think I needed the extra shot Hayley had laced my coffee with to wake me up.
‘There,’ said Angus gleefully as his phone pinged in his hand. ‘That’s that then.’
‘That’s what?’ demanded Catherine. She sounded almost annoyed, certainly exasperated. ‘Angus, you’ve been on that blasted phone half the night. What exactly is it that you are up to?’
‘Could someone please just remind me,’ he said, ignoring Catherine’s plea to put us all out of our misery, ‘what the date is today?’
‘November the twenty-seventh,’ I shot back.
Every single day between now and Twelfth Night was etched on my mind.
‘So that will definitely make Friday, December the first?’ he asked, looking at me over the top of the glasses he had finally pulled into place.
‘Yes,’ I nodded, ‘Friday’s the first.’
‘So?’ said Hayley. ‘Come on, Angus. I’ve the second-floor windows to clean today. This place doesn’t scrub itself, you know.’
‘I do know,’ he said, ‘we all know, my dear. Which is just as well really, because it’s going to be all hands on deck to help get everything ready.’
‘Ready for what?’
Everyone held their breath.
‘Jamie’s homecoming,’ he announced.
‘Be serious,’ Hayley spluttered, choking on her coffee.
‘I am being serious,’ said Angus, looking nowhere other than at his suddenly very pale wife. ‘Jamie’s coming home.’
‘Really?’ questioned Dorothy. She sounded astonished.
‘Do you really think he’d joke about that, of all things?’ Mick quickly cut in.
‘When?’ whispered Catherine.
‘Friday,’ Angus smiled, walking around the table and bending down to kiss her. ‘Friday evening.’
‘And is he—?’
‘Yes,’ he nodded, his eyes full of tears. ‘He’s coming back for good.’
‘So he’s agreed?’ asked Mick. Now it was his turn to sound disbelieving. ‘He’s actually going to do it?’
‘Yes,’ confirmed Angus. ‘He’s actually going to do it.’
‘Well I never,’ muttered Hayley. For once even she sounded almost subdued.
I was desperate to ask what ‘it’ was that this much-missed son had decided he was going to do, but just one quick glance at the expressions on the faces gathered around the table told me that now was not the time. In their dream-like state not one of them looked capable of telling me anything.
‘But when,’ asked Catherine, ‘how?’
‘I’ve been talking to him for a couple of weeks,’ admitted Angus a little sheepishly as he turned a shade redder. ‘But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to get your hopes up.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ laughed Catherine, through what to me looked like very happy tears.
‘Me neither,’ snivelled Hayley as Dorothy delicately sniffed and wiped her eyes with a pristine lace handkerchief she had produced from her apron pocket. ‘This was one Wynthorpe mess I never thought I’d see sorted.’
‘Well, it is now,’ said Angus with a contented sigh.
I was delighted for Catherine and indeed for everyone. It was obvious that Jamie’s prolonged absence from home had been keenly felt and that he was loved by all. Having seen the photograph in Catherine’s study I was rather keen to meet him myself. Not that I ever mixed business with pleasure of course, but sometimes it was nice to have the view and working conditions enhanced by a handsome face.
‘And he’s going to be home in time for Christmas!’ exclaimed Catherine, making everyone jump. ‘Oh I only just realised,’ she cried, ‘how wonderful. It’s going to feel just like old times.’
As thrilled as I was to see her so happy, I have to admit my heart sank at the mention of the dreaded ‘C’ word. I’d got through the Christmas switch-on by the skin of my teeth and was hoping I’d seen the last of that intense level of festive fun, but Angus’s dreamy expression suggested I was potentially in for more of the same.
He had puffed out his chest so far that I thought his braces were going to burst.
‘Why?’ asked Mick. ‘What have you done?’
‘Well,’ said Angus, his exhilaration barely contained as he took another deep breath, ‘in view of the fact that Jamie’s coming home—’
‘Yes,’ said Hayley, urging him on.
‘And bearing in mind that we have an extra pair of very competent hands to help out,’ he added, looking pointedly at me.
‘Uh-huh,’ again, this from Hayley.
‘And not forgetting that we haven’t had a houseful for absolutely ages—’
‘Go on.’
‘I’ve decided to ask everyone here for Christmas this year!’
‘You haven’t?’ spluttered Catherine, wide eyed.
‘I have,’ he laughed. ‘In fact, I’ve already done it and they’ve all said they’ll come.’
‘Oh Angus,’ Catherine gasped, properly sobbing now.
‘Everyone?’ questioned Dorothy.
‘Everyone,’ he confirmed. ‘Christopher and the family will be travelling up as soon as the boys break up from school and Archie and Elise will follow on as soon as they finish work sometime before Christmas Eve, and Jamie of course, will be here already.’
Hayley began to squeal with excitement and Dorothy and Mick hugged and cheered with something bordering on a childlike excitement, the like of which I had never witnessed in adults. Evidently, a Wynthorpe Hall Christmas was something to behold, but I already knew I wouldn’t be sticking around long enough to see it. The room was already beginning to spin and that was just at the mere mention of it.
‘So you see, Anna,’ said Angus, turning his attention squarely to me, ‘this is why I was so pleased to discover that you really are one of us.’
‘One of you?’ I queried, shaking my head.
‘Yes,’ he explained. ‘You proved yesterday you’re someone who gets stuck in and we’re really going to need you and your can-do approach more than ever now, aren’t we?’