A Proper Family Christmas

by Jane Gordon - Cumming

  “No, Posy, you’re not going to tell him anything!” Frances interrupted fiercely. “If I hear one more word on the subject, believe me, it won’t only be Tobias’s Christmas that’ll be spoilt!”

  “Ooh…oo!” crowed Shelley, in a tone that hovered between derision and respect at her vehemence.

  Posy looked from one to the other, and opted to scramble into bed. “When this is my house, I’m going to have the chimneys made enormous,” she stretched her arms to demonstrate. “Then there’ll be room to get all my presents down, and lots more extra.”

  Tobias looked at her, puzzled. “But I’m going to live in this house when I’m big. - Are you going to be there as well?”

  “I’m not having you living with me!” Posy informed him with infinite scorn. “I shall have a proper husband. He’s going to be very rich and buy me presents all the time.”

  “You tell him, Pose!” chuckled Shelley.

  It occurred to Frances that Posy’s rather dubious moral standards weren’t likely to be raised by her nanny.

  “We don’t want much of a meal tonight, do we?” said Julia.

  “Don’t we?” said Margery, who hadn’t had any tea.

  “Not after that massive lunch. - And turkey and plum pud tomorrow.”

  As one who was quite sure she’d never be hungry again, Hilary had nothing against this.

  “Oh dear,” Julia went on, “I suppose somebody’s going to have to get up early and cook it all. We can’t really ask Kath Arncott to come in on Christmas Day…” She glanced at William, hoping he’d contradict her.

  “That’s okay, I’ll do it,” said Oliver.

  “What? Cook the whole of Christmas dinner?” Everyone stared at him.

  “Yes, why not? Someone can help me with the veg.”

  He didn’t look in Hilary’s direction. - It would have caused her problems if he had, of course. She could hardly have refused to help him. …But she was his co-chef, wasn’t she? Why hadn’t he turned to her?

  “Daniel will give me a hand, I expect. We make a good team.” He smiled at Daniel, and Hilary felt her heart contract. … Christ almighty! Surely she wasn’t jealous of her own son?

  Lesley came to read the children their bedtime story, and Frances was sent off to clear up the bathroom. She wasn’t as grateful as she might have been when Shelley offered to give her a hand. Apart from wanting some time alone to indulge in missing her family, she suspected that Shelley was itching for the chance to tell her exactly what she and Daniel had been up to this afternoon. He had turned up eventually, the story being that he’d found the perfect hiding-place by creeping into the sitting-room when Julia’s back was turned, and taking advantage of the fact that she was keeping everyone else out to remain undiscovered till tea-time. …Yes, well. It would need a gullible jury not to pick holes in that as an alibi! - And where was Shelley supposed to have been all that time?

  But her first words on the subject took Frances by surprise.

  “I reckon Daniel Watlington’s gay.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Frances paused in the act of folding a towel.

  “Well it happens, doesn’t it? Some blokes just aren’t interested in women.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think Daniel’s one of them.”

  “Oh, right? And you’ve checked that out personally, I suppose?- I don’t think so!”

  Frances was too relieved at the implication of what Shelley was saying to mind her sarcasm. “So you didn’t - um - I mean…?”

  “Oh, shut up! …He’s gay. I can always tell.” Shelley kicked Posy’s top up off the floor and caught it glumly. “I knew with that Mr. Leafield the moment I saw him.”

  “What? You mean Oliver’s gay?” Frances leant back against the bath and stared at her.

  “For God’s sake! How naive are you? …Of course he’s gay, dummy!” Shelley gave up any pretence of folding Posy’s clothes, and pulled down the loo-seat to sit on. “Man of his age - no wife or girlfriend, poncing about taking pictures of everything?” She seemed to run out of evidence at that stage. “ - Anyway, Julia told me. …And you went all round Cirencester with him, and never noticed? Oh dear!”

  “But I thought that he and Daniel’s mother… I thought she liked him.” Frances gazed at the bathmat, trying to make sense of things. She’d been pretty certain that Hilary felt more than liking for Oliver Leafield, and up to now she would have said that he was quite keen on her as well. Surely Daniel had noticed it too? If it was possible for two people that old to be falling in love, Hilary and Oliver had shown all the signs.

  “You mean Daniel’s mum fancies him? Oh yuck!”

  “Well he’s sort of good-looking…”

  “As in gay! They always are, aren’t they? And they take care of themselves, those people,” said the knowledgeable Shelley. “Anyway, he’s got wrinkles!”

  Shelley couldn’t summon up the imagination to see how a man that age could possibly be attractive to anyone, but Frances had more breadth of vision. Oliver had a great deal of charm, he was good fun and interesting to talk to, and he had a nice, fine-featured face, to which a few lines merely added character. She could quite understand his appeal to a woman more of his own generation. She liked Hilary, but at first she’d found her somewhat withdrawn, - more crushed by her widowhood perhaps than her own mother, with four lively children to drag her back to reality. But on this morning’s expedition, in Oliver’s company, Hilary had begun to come out of herself and show a girlish, fun side, - more of the person she must have been before her husband’s death. …At least, that’s how she had been until lunch-time, - no, throughout lunch too. Frances had seen her laughing cheerfully at the other table. It was when they’d got back to the car, and Hilary had suddenly, mysteriously decided not to go back with them, - run away, almost, as if she could no longer bear to be in their company…

  “Oh my God!” She must have just found out, - on the way back to the car park. She’d been walking with Julia and Tony, hadn’t she? They must have told her. …Oh poor, poor Hilary! If the news had been a shock for Frances, what had Hilary felt on discovering that someone she had just begun to fall in love with was never going to feel the same way about her? No wonder she had looked so ghastly, and leapt at the excuse Shelley gave her to ride in the other car! Poor Oliver too. He’d been awfully upset and had spent the whole journey wondering what he could possibly have said or done to offend her. Well, Frances could have answered his hurt questions now, but she had no intention of betraying Hilary’s feelings, - and anyway perhaps by this time he had worked it out for himself.

  “Fancy a walk, Daniel?”

  “What, now?” He looked at Oliver in surprise. “It’s a bit dark.”

  “We can take a torch. I just fancied a bit of fresh air.”

  “Well, yeah - okay.”

  “…That’s a good idea!” said Leo. “Come on, Hilary.”

  “Er - no, thanks. I don’t want to wander outside in the cold.” …Or play gooseberry to whatever was going on between those two.

  Tony’s beady eyes followed them as they left the room. He leant towards her and murmured slyly. “Nothing for it, I’m afraid! The man’s going to cook Christmas dinner for us, after all. Daniel’s virtue has to be sacrificed to the greater good!”

  At that moment Hilary seriously could have killed him.

  * * *

  Peace at last! William didn’t even bother to put the TV on. It was so nice not to have people talking all round him for once. The children’s parents had gone upstairs to resolve some problem with stockings. - Trouble brewing there, to judge by Lesley’s face! Margery was making herself a sandwich in the kitchen, and Hilary had offered to do one for William, probably as an excuse to escape from Leo, who seemed determined to get something off his chest. He had gone off to the study now in a sulk.

  Poor Hilary was looking tired this evening, - unwell, actually. He must try and find out if anything was wrong. She and Oliver seemed to be avoiding each other, after being such fr
iends earlier, and now he’d gone for this mysterious walk with Daniel, - hardly to seduce him, whatever Tony said.

  It had been a good day. William had found several ways of entertaining himself, apart from that most enjoyable film. Even the Christmas tree was looking rather attractive with all its twinkling lights, and when Scratch saw his chance and made towards it, William took the trouble to pick him up and put him on his lap instead. They both settled down for a little snooze.

  “Ah good, he’s alone!”

  William shut his eyes tighter and gave an inward groan.

  “Are you awake, Father?”

  No.

  “We wanted to have a little word with you.”

  “I’m asleep,” said William.

  “…It’s so difficult to find a moment, with all these people in the house.”

  He gave in and sat up slowly. Scratch did the same, glared at Stephen and Lesley, and climbed down onto the floor.

  “If you’re trying to persuade me to move into a home again…”

  “No, no, it’s something completely different,” said Stephen.

  “Though I still think it would be far more sensible…”

  “…In that case,” said William, “you must have come to find out what I want for Christmas.”

  “No, Father,” she gave Stephen an ‘oh dear’ look, “we’ve already got your present, - we told you, remember? It’s that book we thought you ought to read…” Irony was quite lost on Lesley.

  “It’s nothing to do with Christmas,” Stephen interrupted. “…Rather a sombre subject, I’m afraid, but it’s something we all have to think about.” He produced a piece of paper that one might almost say he’d been concealing behind his back. “We want you to sign this.”

  “What is it?” - As if he couldn’t read what it said on the cover.

  “Well actually, Dad, it’s a will form.”

  “You want me to make out my will, - on Christmas Eve?”

  Even Lesley wriggled a bit. “…It was the only time we could get you alone, Father, - to talk discreetly, I mean.” She looked at Stephen for help.

  He tried the firm approach. “It’s got to be done, Father. Everybody needs to make a will. Lesley and I went to a solicitor as soon as Tobias was born…”

  “I don’t think they let you give them back!” murmured William.

  “…To make sure he’d get everything if we were in an accident or something. It’s only common sense.”

  “And you just want me to sign it. What about the rest?”

  “Oh, we can fill it in later. You needn’t worry about that now.”

  William didn’t intend to worry about it at all. He turned the document over and scanned every word of it with infinite slowness. Any moment Hilary would be back with his sandwich.

  “As you say, it’s a very serious subject.” He picked up the pen Stephen had handed him, and put it down again with a sigh. “…I really feel it deserves some more weighty consideration.”

  “Yes, but not too much more, Father.” Lesley glanced at the door. “After all, you are going to leave things to Stephen…”- Got her! “It’s just a matter of signing your name, and we can sort out the details.”

  “Well, yes, so it is,” said William, hearing Hilary and Margery coming down the hall, “ - if that’s what I am going to do. …Oh thank you, Hilary! That looks delicious.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Christmas Day! The sinking feeling was all too familiar. People might say that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone, but Hilary had always known that those Christmases when Ben was alive and Daniel a youngster were precious. Even then she’d had the nervous underlying feeling that perhaps they weren’t for ever. - In those days it was the mother’s fear that something would happen to her child. So every Christmas morning since Ben had died, Hilary had woken with that awful thump of grief, in the realisation that they would never share it again. And this year, just when there might have been a glimmer of light in her long tunnel, it had been suddenly snuffed out, making the gloom even deeper than before. …How she wished she’d never come down to Haseley! If only she’d had the strength of mind to refuse William’s plea and spend it at home eating chocolate and watching TV on her own as she’d planned. The idea seemed positively blissful now.

  “Mum?” There was a knock at the door.

  “Yes, come in, darling.”

  “Happy Christmas!” He gave her a bear-hug. - Thank God for Daniel in her life!

  “The children are already at each other’s throats over their stockings,” he reported cheerfully. “Leo wanted to know if you were up yet, so I said ‘no’, and if you were, you certainly wouldn’t want to waste Christmas morning listening to him yabbering…”

  “Oh Daniel, you didn’t!”

  “ - Well, perhaps not in so many words. And Oliver said to wish you ‘Happy Christmas’.”

  “That was nice of him.” …A strange kind of message. What did it mean?

  “Yes, - well he’s a nice man.” Daniel was giving her one of his close looks. She fiddled with her hair-brush to avoid it. “You do like Oliver, don’t you, Mum?”

  “Of course I do. He’s charming.” That sounded natural, didn’t it?

  “He hasn’t offended you in some way, - or said anything to upset you?”

  “Good lord, no! Why would you think that?” …Change the subject - quickly! “We had a nice day yesterday, didn’t we? How are you getting on with Frances?”

  He made a face. “I’m not sure. …I mean, I like her a lot, and when you were in the church, she was really beginning to open up, and tell me all about her family and everything.”

  “So?”

  “Well, then she suddenly withdrew again, and I felt I couldn’t get near her. …It’s partly to do with those bullies she works for! I think she’s afraid that if Ratso sees her fraternising with the Young Master, she’ll turn her off without a character.”

  “Oh, Daniel!” Hilary was amused, but in a way she suspected he was right about Frances. She was a sensitive girl, and must cringe at the thought of her behaviour being compared to that of the dreadful Shelley.

  “ - At least, I hope that’s what it is, and she hasn’t just gone off me,” he sighed. “We don’t want two broken hearts in the place.” …Was that really what he’d said, or had she misheard? Did he know? - But he wasn’t looking at her.

  “I’m sure she hasn’t gone off you, darling. She’s far too sensible!” And Hilary was far too sensible to add how much she herself liked Frances, and would love things to work out. No sense in killing the relationship off before it had begun!

  “It’s not fa-air! Posy’s got more presents than me!”

  “No she hasn’t, darling. We counted them very… I mean, it just looks more because Posy’s stocking is more stretchy.” Lesley pulled at it to show him.

  What was wrong with the child? Frances’s brothers would have had that stocking dismantled and half the contents eaten by this time of the morning!

  “Why don’t you just open them, Tobias?” she suggested. “Posy’s started hers already.”

  Tobias glanced at his cousin, and set to work, as if there might be a danger of her moving on to his, if he wasn’t quick enough. - Perhaps he was right.

  “While he’s busy…” Lesley murmured, raising an eyebrow at Frances. She beckoned her across the landing into their room. “Perhaps you could give us a hand in here.”

  “Good heavens!”

  Stephen sat on the bed, surrounded by Christmas paper and presents, obviously making an attempt to marry the two together. He looked up in relief. “Ah, Nanny? Are you any good with this kind of thing?”

  As it happened, parcel wrapping was one of Frances’s talents. She sat down beside him and got stuck in. Lesley took on the task of labelling, and Stephen of finding things at her instruction. He wasn’t very adept at that either.

  “I know I brought down that vase we got for Julia! Is it still in the suitcase? …Well, look, Stephen, - it could
be in the lining, or something. …Oh dear, where’s Margery’s soap gone? I had it a moment ago. …No, that’s for Hilary, - it’s freesia. Margery’s is the lavender one.”

  Frances worked quietly, noting how every other gift to be wrapped was something ‘a little extra’ for Tobias, and musing on Lesley’s complete lack of imagination when choosing presents for anybody else. They must have forgotten she was there after a while.

  “I do hope your father’s going to read this book! It was very expensive. …Such a pity he was so stubborn last night.”

  “Yes, it makes one wonder who he is planning to leave things to,” said Stephen, staring with a worried frown at the worm-eaten old wardrobe, though it probably wasn’t quite what he had in mind.

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything silly…” Lesley’s expression suggested she wasn’t all that sure. “It’s not as if Julia had a son to carry on the name.” She glanced affectionately in the direction of the room next door.

  “Aunt Margery clearly thinks the options are still open,” Stephen pointed out grimly. “She didn’t ask Dad to the cinema yesterday because she’s a fan of James Bond!”

  “You mean she has hopes for Leo? Oh God save us!”

  “Well, if Ben had lived… It’s no secret how William dotes on Daniel,” said Stephen, by way of finishing his sentence. “But Leo hasn’t any children of his own, at least, so Daniel would be his natural next of kin.”

  “And that’s why Hilary’s hanging round him, of course,” said Lesley, with the confidence of one who’s fathomed out another’s deepest motives, “ - to make sure nothing goes astray, so to speak.”

  “Yes, she won’t want him marrying someone else and starting another family…”

  Frances thought she’d been remarkably restrained not to jump up and throttle them both. As it was, she must have let out a choking noise. Whatever, it was enough to make them glance in her direction and then at each other.

  “Yes, well,” Stephen coughed, “perhaps we should talk about this another time. …Is that Tony’s you’ve wrapped there? I’ll put it in the pile.”