A Proper Family Christmas

by Jane Gordon - Cumming

  ‘The Founding of Rome’, with Tobias as Romulus cuddling near to his mother under a fur rug as the she-wolf, led to some giggles from the audience. William played the eponymous hero in ‘The Death of Caesar’, letting out a series of passionate ‘oh’s, as he was stabbed with the poker by his treacherous consul, Stephen. Tobias then returned in a towel for a toga, and waved his hands rather ambiguously about in the air, - a mystery solved when in reply to the question: “What are you doing, Nero?” he explained that he was fiddling while Rome burned.

  “Good God, you can’t use obscure proper names!” exclaimed Margery in horror, even though no one had had much difficulty in guessing the word.Julia’s team had inevitably spent more time on their costumes than their script, which featured a fairy with the unlikely name of Chris, who kept begging her nanny not to ‘muss’ her hair up. Hilary was amazed to see a show-off like Shelley freeze into wooden immobility, when called upon to deliver a line she might have uttered every day in normal life.

  “You needn’t bother to do the third scene!” said William rudely, but Tony went ahead and re-enacted Oliver’s role as Father Christmas, using enough of the original costume to produce outraged accusations of theft of intellectual property from those who had helped devise it.

  “Right, it’s our turn!” said Margery, with the air of someone who was going to show others how things should be done. “Where are those shawls?”

  She and Hilary sat by the fire, telling each other how cold it was, - a red herring suggested by Daniel. There was a knock on the sitting-room door, and Oliver announced that he’d been sent - by whom, wasn’t clear - to tell them the bad news that their ‘son-stroke-brother’ was dead. “…In fact,” he admitted, “I’m afraid I killed your son-stroke-brother in a duel, in a rather sneaky way.” He twirled imaginary moustaches at the audience, who booed obligingly.

  When he opened the door to reveal the corpse, even Hilary gave a little scream. That wretched boy must have run off and found William’s ketchup bottle, for he was now smeared in horribly realistic gore! Margery’s polite offer of a cup of tea at that point nearly brought the house down.

  She left the stage, and, apparently uninhibited by the presence of the corpse, the daughter and the villain declared the passion for each other that they’d ‘never meant to happen’.

  So far according to the script. What Hilary hadn’t bargained for, was that Oliver then took her in his arms and kissed her. Totally taken by surprise, uncertain what to do, she kissed him back. Thoughts fluttered through her head. Surely he couldn’t be acting this? How should she respond? Dear God, she didn’t appear to have any choice in the matter! It was a kiss that demanded a response from her whole body. And everyone was watching. What would they think? …After a moment or two, she didn’t care. This was where she should be, the right thing to be doing.

  It seemed an age before Daniel the Corpse came back to life, told the offender to take his dastardly hands off her in an uncomfortably apposite way, and produced an imaginary gun and ‘rid the world of a despicable scoundrel’. Oliver had the presence of mind to clutch his chest and die at artistic length. Hilary’s reaction of dazed shock was luckily appropriate, and Margery returned to speak her line.

  The audience cheered as if they’d never stop. Was it the spectacle she and Oliver had just given them? All Hilary’s self-consciousness returned, and she found she couldn’t look at them, or him, or her son.

  They were having surprising difficulty in guessing the word. Eventually William got it, to renewed cheers.

  “You’re awfully noisy in here!” Leo came in, bearing a long sheet of paper. “It took a bit longer than I said, but I’ve finished the quiz now.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Frances drifted into an uncomfortable sleep at last, and woke to hear Lesley still arguing. …No, not Lesley, - that was Julia’s voice. What a relief! She was talking to Tony in their room next door. It was comforting to think of them so near by.

  “Well, we’ve got to do something!” she heard Tony saying. “There’ll be another set of those bloody bills waiting when we get home. I can’t stall the bank for ever.”

  “If only you hadn’t invested in that stupid web-site thing!”

  “Yes, well, they seemed like perfectly sound blokes, and one of them was in IT…”

  Had Julia and Tony got financial problems then? She’d assumed they were pretty well off. …She was trying not to listen, but the wall was so thin, they might have been sitting beside her.

  “It would be an awful shame to have to sell the house.” There was a creak that suggested Julia had flopped onto the bed.

  “Wouldn’t do any good if we did. It’s all owed to the mortgage company.”

  “…I suppose Posy could drop ballet, but she’s doing so well.”

  “It’ll take more than the odd ballet class, I’m afraid!”

  “If you’re suggesting we should send her to that ghastly little state school…” The bed creaked again, angrily.

  “All I’m saying is that it’s a bloody shame your father has to mess everybody about. He’s sitting on a gold-mine here, but it’s no use to anyone at the moment.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be getting it all eventually. He can’t still mean Stephen to inherit Haseley, after everything we’ve done to show him what a bad idea that would be!”

  “Eventually’s no use. We need that money now. It’s no good seeing off all the other contenders, if we can’t get him to put pen to bloody paper!”

  “But even then, we’d have to wait till he dies,” Julia pointed out. “Or are you suggesting we murder the poor old thing?” She gave heartless little giggle that made Frances’s blood run cold.

  She couldn’t be hearing this! She must be still asleep, having one of those awful nightmares where one’s nicest of friends turn into monsters.

  “Once he’s signed that will, we can get Power of Attorney,” Tony was explaining. “And then if he still refuses to move out, it shouldn’t be too difficult to get him sectioned. Everyone knows how eccentric he is, - and Stephen might co-operate, if he gets a bit of a sweetener. There’ll be plenty for all, once the house is sold.”

  Frances slipped her legs out from under the covers, and gingerly tried her ankle on the floor. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she couldn’t just lie there.

  “Well let’s give it another try now, before supper. Where did you put that form?” Frances heard the bed creak again. Julia was getting up, about to go downstairs and make poor William sign his life away…

  “No!”

  “Frances! Aren’t you supposed to be in bed? Good lord, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Her room’s right next door,” Tony gave a rueful grimace.

  “Oh, - did you overhear some of what we were saying? I’m sure you must have misunderstood.”

  Frances shook her head. There had been no possibility of misunderstanding. She wished there had. If only she could have convinced herself that it was a nightmare, or the two cruel strangers with Julia and Tony’s voices had turned out not to be them after all!

  “Now, Frances, come and sit down.” How often had Tony beguiled her with that sympathetic tone? She leant against the wardrobe to take the weight off her foot, rather than rest it with him beside her. “You must know that we only want what’s best for William. He’d be far better off in care.” This from the man who’d been banging on about the evils of retirement homes!

  “Of course he would! Much better than living all alone in this horrid great house.” Seeing her face, Julia tried a different tack. “…Look here, darling, let’s not beat about the bush. We all want this money. You were hoping Daniel would get it, weren’t you? Well, you’re wasting your time there. I’m afraid Daddy and Margery are the most awful snobs, and neither of them would think of leaving him anything if he marries a nanny. - I’m sorry, but there it is.”

  Frances stared at her in disbelief. …What had Shelley been saying? Had she poisoned their minds with
her ridiculous accusation, - or was it they who had put it into Shelley’s head? Surely Julia and Tony couldn’t possibly believe she was so mercenary… Oh, she didn’t know what to think any more!

  “You’re not going to say anything silly to Daddy, are you?” said Julia, as Frances turned away in despair. “I’m sure we could come to some arrangement if you’re really hard up.”

  “She can’t get down the stairs, remember? You go back to bed, Frances, and rest that ankle of yours.”

  It was true that her foot was hurting, and all she wanted to do was to go and bury her head under the covers. Frances hobbled out of the room and shut the door behind her.

  No one was really in the mood for a quiz, but they felt rather guilty that Leo had got left out of the charades, particularly in the knowledge that they’d had much more fun without him. Shelley took the children upstairs, when it was clear they hadn’t a hope of joining in, and Julia and Tony had soon given up and gone off as well, leaving the rest of them to struggle with a set of questions which would have given University Challenge a run for its money.

  “Come on, Hilary, you must know this!” Leo was beginning to show signs of irritation at her ignorance, but it was difficult to bend her mind to obscure events in Emily Brontë’s life, when it was so preoccupied with recent events in her own. She was still reeling from Oliver’s kiss. One thing was for sure, - that man wasn’t gay! He had meant it when he kissed her. The touch of those strong lips had been sensuous and demanding, and she was shocked at the uncontrolled passion it had awoken in her. Wasn’t she supposed to be beyond such heights, at her age?

  She passed on her question, causing Leo to tut disappointedly, and stole a glance at the man who had caused a respectable middle-aged widow to act so shamelessly. He met her eye, and she immediately dropped her gaze, blushing like a schoolgirl. Heavens, she mustn’t behave like this, - everyone would wonder what was going on! …They probably already did. She’d been alarmed to see Daniel take Oliver aside just after they’d finished the charades. What was it he wanted to say to the man who had just kissed his mother?

  “Now, William, here’s an easy one for you. Who wrote ‘Decline and Fall?’” Leo’s quiz had a distinctly literary bias.

  Hilary could see from the gleam in his eye that William didn’t appreciate being patronised. “…Gibbon, wasn’t it?”

  “No, that was the ‘Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire’!”

  “Isn’t that what you meant? You should have been more specific.”

  “It’s perfectly specific.”

  “Evelyn Waugh, then. …Come on, Leo, get on with it.”

  “No, it was William’s turn,” He glared at Margery for answering for her brother. “Now I’ll have to find him another question!”

  The door opened rather suddenly. Frances stood there, looking deathly pale.

  Daniel shot to his feet at once. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be up!”

  “I - took the back stairs,” she gasped, as if this was explanation. She was searching the room for someone. “William…” She tried to get to him, but everyone was sitting in the way. “Julia and Tony are coming!”

  “But why…? What…?”

  Frances shook her head, brushing aside their puzzled enquiries. “Don’t sign anything!” she called across the room. “Whatever you do, don’t let them…”

  The door opened again, sure enough to reveal Julia and Tony.

  …Don’t let them what?” Daniel was saying, but Frances was no longer conscious.

  “You mean she rushed all the way down those stairs, on her bad ankle? No wonder she passed out!” Hilary exclaimed. Only this morning had Daniel really got the full story from Frances, and they’d learned why she had been so desperate to reach the sitting-room, when she should have been resting in bed.

  “I think that was the shock, more than anything,” said Daniel grimly. “After overhearing what those two were plotting, she realised she simply had to get to William before they did.”

  “Poor Frances! It must have been a real eye-opener for her, seeing Julia and Tony in their true colours,” Hilary reflected. “Aren’t they just beyond belief? - The number of times I’ve heard Julia say she’s not interested in money and she doesn’t care who William leaves his estate to!”

  “Yes, and making snide remarks about Stephen and Lesley, as if they were the mercenary ones,” Daniel agreed bitterly. “…Do you think Uncle William signed that thing of theirs?”

  “I don’t know.” Hilary gave a miserable shrug. They’d been too busy getting Frances back upstairs to find out whether or not her mission had been successful. “I hope not, but it’s too late now, if he has. Anyway, it was extremely brave of Frances to try and warn him.”

  “Yes, she’s a heroine,” said Daniel, playing thoughtfully with the brush on the dressing-table. “I could be very serious about a girl like that.”

  “Are you there, Hilary?” Margery burst in with barely a knock. “Now listen! I want to know who’s responsible for telling you this ridiculous tale about poor Oliver.”

  “Oh!” said Hilary, too startled to prevaricate. “Julia and Tony said he was gay…”

  “Right. I shall have a word.” Margery was gone as quickly as she had come.

  “Good heavens! I wonder who on earth…”

  But to her surprise, her son was grinning guiltily. “I’m afraid it’s my fault for telling Oliver the rumours about him. I wasn’t going to say anything. - Well, you can hardly let on to a mate that everyone thinks he’s gay, when he isn’t! - But he kept wondering why people kept making weird comments, or treating him strangely…” Had she imagined that he’d given her rather a close look? “So in the end I told him the truth. He was a bit taken aback at first, poor sod, but then I got him to see the funny side. I don’t think it’s the first time, actually, - being a bachelor, and some of the people he goes round with. Anyway, he must have said something to Gran, and now she’s gunning for whoever started the story,” he chuckled.

  Hilary tried to smile too, as one appreciative of an amusing misunderstanding.

  “…He isn’t gay, of course.”

  “Of course not!” said Hilary, as if she’d never thought he was. “In fact,” she went on with all the airiness she could muster, “I thought he might have something going with Kath Arncott.”

  “Oh no, not at all!” her wonderful son assured her. “I teased him about that, but he isn’t the slightest bit interested.” - Daniel sounded almost relieved. “In fact, from some hints she dropped about liking older men, Oliver thinks that Kath might have her sights set on Uncle William!”

  “What?”

  “I know! - Bit of a turn up for the books if he ended up marrying his house-keeper,” Daniel speculated delightedly. “How do you think they’d all feel if Grime and Brine inherited Haseley House?”

  William and Scratch looked up balefully when Margery charged into their room. Neither was pleased at being disturbed this early in the morning.

  “Never mind that!” she interrupted, as William started to point this out. “What do you mean by going round telling everyone that Oliver Leafield is a homosexual?”

  “Did I? I don’t remember.”

  “Well I’ve already spoken to Tony, and he says it came from you.”

  “In that case, I suppose I just assumed he was,” said William, thinking back. “…You said you’d met him at Nigel Rofford’s, didn’t you? He’s queer as a coot.”

  “Yes,” said Margery crossly, “Nigel is. Oliver isn’t!”

  “Oh, fair enough.” said William. “…Does it matter?”

  “Of course it does!” exclaimed Margery. “Poor Hilary’s head-over-heels in love with him. How do you think she felt?”

  “I don’t know,” said William, with a twinge of conscience. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed how Hilary reacted to Oliver’s presence, - but then the man was so obviously smitten with her, he’d completely forgotten that he wasn’t supposed to like women. “…Perhap
s I should say something.”

  “No, best not to interfere,” said Margery, causing a wry smile from her brother. She picked up the cat and sat down on his bedroom chair, her eyes piercing with another enquiry. “Tell me what happened last night, after that poor girl collapsed. - I saw those two taking you off to the study with them.”

  “Oh yes,” William recalled. “They wanted to revive a conversation we’d been having in the pub earlier, about the importance of leaving a will. …In fact, they’d been kind enough to make one out already, - to save me the trouble, they said. All I had to do was sign it.”

  “…And did you?” Margery was anxious to discover, as he paused.

  “Well,” said William, “I might have done, but then I pointed out that we’d need to have a witness to my signature, - and not one of them, either, since they appeared to be the beneficiaries.”

  “And what did they answer to that?” urged Margery, agonised by his slowness.

  “They said I was being unnecessarily particular, and that Kath or someone could easily add her name to it later. …Most irregular!” William shook his head. He caught Margery’s eye, and daren’t spin the tale out any longer. “So then I suggested that we asked Frances to do it. I said that I thought she was a girl who appeared to have my interests at heart, and I’d really like to take her advice before I put my name to anything.”

  “Ha!” said Margery. “So you’re not completely stupid.”

  “No,” said William. “I don’t know why everybody thinks I am.”

  “They’ve got a point, though,” Margery surprised him by adding. “You really should make a will out to somebody. Otherwise it makes things so awkward for everybody when you die.”

  “Doesn’t bother me!” said William.

  Daniel had been wonderful this morning, - full of praise for Frances’s courage and concern for the ill effects she might be suffering. She loved him so much, it was almost unbearable!

  In fact, from a physical point of view, Frances had got off fairly lightly. Although her ankle had swollen up again, she found that she could put some weight on it, with care. But emotionally, - that was a different matter. …Frances hadn’t been able to disclose to Daniel the full extent of the mental torment she was undergoing as a result of last night’s revelations. It wasn’t only the shock of discovering that, beneath that veneer of charm, lay two utterly unscrupulous people who would stop at nothing to get their hands on William’s estate, - although that was bad enough. It wasn’t even the way Julia and Tony had betrayed her, and the realisation that their sympathetic friendship had been nothing but a ruse to worm information out of her about the other candidates for William’s fortune. …No, what was really gnawing at Frances’s heart, and what she couldn’t reveal to Daniel, were the cruel things they had to say about her relationship with him, and its likely effect on his future. She had been devastated to hear Julia repeat Shelley’s malicious suggestion that her interest in Daniel was purely for mercenary reasons. Would the rest of the family come to the same conclusion? …And even if they didn’t, and accepted that she genuinely loved him, was it true that his involvement with her would mean Daniel being cut off from his rightful inheritance?