The Christmas Stocking and Other Stories

by Katie Fforde

  The door was opened by a woman about her own age. She looked harassed and not pleased to have her door knocked on.

  Fenella put on her best ‘really, I’m here to help’ smile. She used it a lot when there were events on at the house. ‘Hi! Happy Christmas! I just came down to see if you had a power cut. I’m Fenella. We live at the big house? It was me who left the welcome pack, such as it was. We keep an eye on the cottage for Gerald, who owns it, while he’s abroad.’

  The woman nodded. ‘Hi. Yes, we have. And everything in this wretched cottage is electric! I’m Sam, short for Samantha.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you come up and have Christmas lunch with us? We’re having it at about three – just after the Queen’s speech. But if you’re freezing to death you could come immediately.’

  ‘Come in,’ said Sam. ‘This is so kind of you. But maybe if you haven’t got a power cut, ours is one that could be fixed.’

  Fenella went into the cottage and saw a gloomy little family huddled round a wood burner that was more for decoration than for giving out heat. There was a worried-looking husband in a Christmas jumper, a couple of small boys playing on hand-held games machines, not bothered by the lack of electricity, and an elderly couple who looked miserable and bad-tempered at the same time.

  ‘Hi, everyone!’ said Fenella. ‘Ghastly time for the power to go off. I’m just suggesting that you all come up to us? Our lights are off too, but we have a huge Aga, oil-fired central heating, and my macho male guests are planning to cook the turkey on the barbeque.’ She paused. ‘Apparently it works really well.’

  The elderly woman, who was sitting so close to the stove she was almost touching it, said, ‘We couldn’t possibly impose on you and your family at Christmas.’

  She sounded so like Lady Gainsborough that Fenella almost laughed. ‘It wouldn’t be an imposition at all,’ she said firmly. ‘We’d love to have you. And as we’re quite a big party already, we might as well add you to the mix.’ She realised too late that she should probably have expressed this a bit differently. She put her hand on Sam’s arm. ‘Shall we go into the kitchen? I can explain—’

  ‘Oh yes, let’s!’ agreed Sam quickly. ‘We could have a glass of sherry.’

  The tiny kitchen could have doubled as a cold-room in a restaurant, Fenella thought as she went in. There was an open bottle and a half-full Paris goblet of sherry on the side.

  ‘To be honest, going to you would be a lifesaver,’ said Sam. ‘Apart from the fact that we can’t cook the bloody dinner, my parents-in-law feel the cold terribly and while they are really difficult, I don’t want them getting hypothermia and dying just this minute.’ Sam picked up the sherry bottle and waved it at Fenella in invitation. ‘I’ve turned into a secret drinker. Henry, that’s my husband, doesn’t dare have a drop in case he has to take his parents to hospital or something.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got my in-laws too, and they’re also really difficult. Fortunately I also have good friends who are being amazing and there’s loads of food and lots of room. It would be no trouble to have you, and you wouldn’t have to be a secret drinker. My lot started at breakfast.’

  ‘But not you?’

  Fenella shook her head. ‘Not at the moment. I have to keep my wits about me a bit. I’m afraid my children are too young to be of interest to yours and there are a pair of six-month-old twins, but we have lovely Meggie to help with them, and a gorgeous Frenchman who seems very into kids. He’s also probably rather into Meggie; I haven’t had time to work it out. He’d be cool with your two, I’m sure.’

  ‘In which case, we’d love to come. It’s so kind of you. I know Henry will be really grateful, and if his parents aren’t, well, they never are!’

  ‘Just the same as my in-laws. I do sympathise. But the house is big enough for people to get away from each other if they need to. We have a games room with a table-tennis table in the barn.’ Fenella paused. ‘You probably want to sort yourselves out a bit, but come up as soon as you’re ready. You know where we are?’

  Fenella set off for home, having been assured that the family would be able to find Somerby without difficulty, wondering how everything had been going on without her.

  She went into the kitchen to find Zoe, Sarah and Hugo preparing vegetables by the light of a hurricane lamp, which wasn’t giving out a lot of light. Meggie was on the sofa holding Immi and jiggling Ted, sitting in his chair, with her foot. But in spite of the dimness, it all seemed very merry. Her daughters must be with Rupert.

  ‘Well, they’re coming,’ she announced. ‘Poor things! Even with heating the cottage would be far too small for them really and Sam – she’s the mother – has got her in-laws too, and they seem to have been carved from the same stone as mine are. Is Rupe up there with them?’

  ‘Not sure where Rupe is,’ said Zoe, digging the eye out of a potato with care. ‘Why don’t you sit down for a bit? Have a drink!’

  ‘Well, if the in-laws are settled upstairs and have drinks handy, I’ll get on with the snacks we’re having to keep us going until the turkey.’ She went over to a big fridge and opened the door. ‘It’s hard to know what to do about food when you’re eating such a huge meal at three. But you need something between breakfast and turkey. Rupert’s parents love sandwiches. I’ve bought fillings. Don’t tell them! They’d be horrified. We’re having smoked salmon and the blinis you made, Zoe.’

  ‘Oh, do sit down, Fen!’ said Zoe. ‘I’ll make the sandwiches. When are our new guests coming?’

  ‘Not entirely sure,’ said Fenella, finding herself surprisingly pleased to be made to sit. The lamplight was soothing. ‘We’ll hear them arrive, I expect. Although now we haven’t got dogs going mad whenever anyone turns up, it’s harder.’

  About twenty minutes later, Hugo had left the party and gone out to see how the barbeque was getting on; Sarah had taken over holding a sleeping Immi; Meggie and Zoe had made a mountain of sandwiches; and Fenella, feeling unable to sit down for long, had dolloped sour cream on several dozen portions of smoked salmon and blinis. Now they were decorating the top with tiny black pearls of caviar. ‘Right,’ said Fenella, ‘let’s take these up.’ She picked up a plate.

  ‘I’ll take them!’ said Zoe and Meggie simultaneously.

  ‘OK, you two, keep your hair on. I’ll take the sangers and one of you can take the blinis. I think we’d better have them up there in the drawing room, don’t you? I can’t have Sam’s in-laws in the kitchen when I hardly let my own in here.’ She paused. ‘At least it’s too dark to see the mess.’

  ‘Meggie and I will take the food,’ said Zoe firmly.

  ‘Well, you can’t take it all,’ said Fenella, frowning slightly. ‘And you’re pregnant, Zoe. I don’t want you tripping on the stairs in the dark. Besides, you should take things easy at this stage. Although I admit it’s a bit late for me to be telling you that.’

  ‘Really, stay here!’ said Meggie, sounding a bit desperate. ‘You might be needed. If the neighbours arrive.’

  Fenella wondered if it was her, or if everyone else had gone slightly mad. ‘We can hear the door perfectly well from the drawing room.’ She picked up a plate. ‘Come on.’

  Lord and Lady Gainsborough were sitting by the fire, which was roaring away happily, reading by the light of a camping lantern. Otherwise the room was empty. Fenella thought how pretty it looked lit only by fairy lights, candles and the lamp.

  ‘Oh, where’s Rupert?’ she asked. He was better at leaving his parents to get on with it than she was. He’d probably sloped off to wrap a present or something.

  ‘We haven’t seen him all day,’ said his mother, sounding aggrieved.

  ‘So, has he got the girls with him?’ Fenella asked, suddenly worried.

  ‘The girls are playing with the dolls’ house,’ said Meggie quickly, ‘with Étienne. They’re making decorations for it out of tinsel. Not sure how they’re managing with just a big torch to see by, but they’re happy.’

  What a star, thought Fenella and
decided that the minute she could see to go down there, she’d find a bottle of good brandy in the cellar to add to Étienne’s present, which was currently a cashmere scarf she’d bought for Rupert and he’d never taken out of the cellophane. Étienne was worth his weight in rubies.

  ‘Meggie,’ Fenella said, ‘would you be a dear and get the men in, if they can leave the barbeque for a second? They need sustenance and we need them to help with drinks.’

  Meggie ran down the stairs and outside into the courtyard where Gideon and Hugo were standing by the barbeque wrapped in scarves and wearing woolly hats, with glasses in their hands, laughing.

  ‘Break time,’ she said. ‘Fen needs you.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Gideon said immediately. ‘Let’s go.’

  Meggie took the time to find the downstairs cloakroom so she could tidy up a bit. Everyone seemed to be very casual about clothes for Christmas down here. At her father’s, her stepmother always wore a new little-black-dress, littler and blacker than the previous year’s model, and had to be in killer heels and full slap. She and her mother used to make bitchy remarks about the pictures the Iguana put up on Facebook, looking as if she’d never been near the kitchen. Which was pretty much true.

  But here everyone seemed to be wearing jeans and jumpers, which were lovely but also very relaxed. But Meggie wanted to make sure she didn’t look too sloppy. She had Étienne to impress. He, being French, looked incredibly stylish in his casual clothes. She had to try and keep up as best she could. Annoyingly, when she found the loo, she could hardly see a thing even though someone had thoughtfully put a few tea lights by the washbasin. She could just make out her reflection: dark, slightly wavy hair, caught up in a scrunchy with escaping tendrils falling over her shoulders. The cosy red jumper she’d put on this morning looked OK, making the most of her curves. Or maybe she thought that just because she could hardly see!

  But the more Meggie was around these lovely people, Étienne in particular, she realised that her lack of confidence was caused by her stepmother’s constant criticisms. Those came from Ignatia’s own insecurities, and shouldn’t feed Meggie’s. Encouraged, Meggie took one last look at her reflection, and then headed back to the drawing room and the rest of her Christmas Day.

  Meggie rejoined the party in the drawing room in time to hear Fenella saying, ‘So where is Rupert?’

  Everyone else was there, Meggie realised, the little girls hanging on to Étienne’s fingers and looking up at him adoringly.

  ‘Well, I don’t know, Fenella,’ snapped Lady Gainsborough. ‘He’s your husband, but we haven’t seen him since he brought us the lamp.’

  ‘Helpful,’ Meggie heard Fenella mutter under her breath. ‘I am getting a little worried now though,’ continued Fenella.

  ‘No need,’ said Hugo. ‘I had a text from him just now.’

  ‘You had a text!’ said Fenella. ‘Saying what? For God’s sake!’

  The little girls looked at their mother and Meggie realised they didn’t often see her agitated. Meggie went over to them. ‘Shall we find you something to eat? Do you like smoked salmon?’

  ‘Just saying he’d popped out,’ replied Hugo, sounding desperately guilty. He went over to the elderly Gainsboroughs with a bottle of champagne in his hand.

  Lord Gainsborough waved it away. ‘Whisky,’ he said. ‘Or, better still, whisky punch. Hasn’t Rupert made any? It’s one of the few things he’s really good at.’

  ‘Rupert seems to have gone missing,’ said Fenella, obviously struggling to keep her feelings hidden.

  Zoe went to her side. ‘Really, it’s all right, Fen. He’s not missing. He’s just out, like Hugo said. Let’s get everyone fed and then maybe we can have presents.’

  ‘We never have presents until after lunch,’ said Lady Gainsborough, ‘and by that I mean the turkey, not a sandwich.’ But as she had at least four sandwiches on her plate she obviously liked them.

  This remark seemed to galvanise Fenella. ‘Right! Presents! Let’s get them handed out and we can start opening. Glory, darling, you can read the labels? Can you put everyone’s presents into piles.’ She paused. ‘Of course our guests might come in the middle of it – in fact they probably will – but we can’t hang around any longer. Bloody Rupert,’ she added, probably intending to say it a bit more quietly than she in fact did.

  Meggie helped the girls and Étienne joined in. Remarkably quickly, Meggie thought, they had all the presents in piles. It turned out that the adults, apart from the in-laws and she and Étienne, had done a Secret Santa, which meant they only had one present each. Meggie was very touched and surprised to see that her own pile had five presents on it, considering no one had known she was coming until the day before Christmas Eve.

  She had only given a present – a box of home-made biscuits – to Fenella and Rupert and a selection of colouring books, wigs and dresses to Glory and Simmy, thus ensuring both little girls could dress up as the sisters from Frozen. Meggie hoped her mother was right and that a home-made, edible present would be far more acceptable than something that would have to be found a home for.

  Meggie could tell Fenella was on edge. She kept looking at her watch, obviously wondering where on earth Rupert was. Then, just as Fenella said, ‘Right, eldest first. Grandpapa, open your first present!’ the doorbell jangled.

  ‘I’ll go!’ said Fenella, before anyone else could offer, and disappeared out of the room.

  Meggie took an executive decision. The little girls, who, she felt, had shown the patience of saints, were getting restive. She whispered to them, ‘Open your presents from me. It’s those two. Do it quietly though so your grandmother doesn’t get upset.’

  Lady Gainsborough was already upset. Hugo had bravely explained who was about to arrive and she said in a loud voice, ‘I really don’t see why we have to have strangers in the house at Christmas! Although possibly that ship has sailed!’ As she looked around the room it was clear they were all designated as strangers in her eyes.

  How unfortunate, thought Meggie, that Lady Gainsborough’s lordly statement was also heard by the family trooping into the room, obviously embarrassed by the situation.

  Fenella did rapid introductions ending with ‘Here, Mr and Mrs Williams, come and sit by the fire with my parents-in-law.’

  Meggie braced herself to hear Lady Gainsborough say something sniffy, but instead she picked up the camping lantern and inspected the couple she was being presented with. ‘I don’t suppose you play bridge, do you? My family are about to open their presents and I can’t imagine anything more tedious than having to exclaim rapturously over every pair of socks or tie that’s opened.’

  Meggie realised she was clutching Glory’s hand a bit too tightly and released it.

  ‘We do play bridge!’ said the elder Mrs Williams. ‘And are cursing the day our son married a woman who didn’t. Do you have any cards?’

  Fenella pounced. ‘We have cards!’

  Her mother-in-law shuddered. ‘We don’t mean the cards you play snap with! Fortunately, my husband and I always travel with our own in the hope we might be able to make up a four.’

  ‘We have a card table!’ said Fenella eagerly, snatching at this golden opportunity to keep all the elderly and difficult among them happy. ‘I’d have asked Rupert to fetch it but—’

  ‘Just tell me where it is,’ said Hugo. ‘I’ll bring it in a tick.’

  ‘And I will fetch your playing cards, Lord and Lady Gainsborough,’ said Gideon, ‘if you would like me to?’

  Meggie focused on the children as everyone else sprang into action and, in minutes, the new family were settled with drinks, a card table and their own Christmas presents, brought by Sam, who seemed hugely relieved not to be solely responsible for everyone’s happiness. Étienne was talking to the boys, who seemed to be around ten, about sport.

  ‘I think I’m almost too frazzled to open presents,’ said Fenella, collapsing in a chair with a sigh.

  Just then the door opened. ‘Well,’ said Rup
ert, carrying a box, ‘you’ll have to open this one!’

  He put the box on Fenella’s lap and before she could do more than look at it, it opened of its own accord and out scrambled a black Labrador puppy. Fenella picked it up and held it to her. ‘Oh, Rupert,’ she said with tears in her eyes, ‘you idiot! Wonderful – but an idiot!’

  But she said it in a way that it made it clear it was the best present in the world and buried her nose in the squirming bundle. ‘Don’t puppies smell heavenly? What shall we call him, my darlings?’

  ‘Something Christmassy,’ cried Glory.

  ‘Yes – definitely something Christmassy,’ agreed Rupert.

  ‘Rudolph,’ said Simmy timidly.

  ‘What a brilliant idea, my little Cymbeline,’ cheered Rupert, lifting her into a giant bear hug. ‘Only maybe we’ll call her Rudie – seeing as she’s a girl. Now where are my presents?’

  A couple of hours later Meggie felt as though she was in a painting by one of the Dutch masters she was studying for her degree.

  The huge table in the dining room had silver candelabra, each holding four candles, marching down it. In between were dishes of food: roast potatoes, roast vegetables, sprouts cooked with pancetta, sprouts cooked plain (Lady Gainsborough only liked them plain). There were plates piled with Yorkshire puddings mainly for the children, a random plate of fish fingers and another of baked beans, brought by the Williams family, in case their sons refused to eat turkey. There were mashed potatoes and mashed swede so Sarah could give the twins some solid food and there were silver dishes with nuts and raisins, crisps and cheese footballs (Lord Gainsborough’s favourites). It all looked absolutely beautiful.

  There were candles on every surface but this was the only room where Fenella hadn’t run riot with the fairy lights. There was an antique mirror over the fireplace reflecting the flickering candles in front of it. The fire, which had smoked for quite a while, was roaring away.