The Christmas Stocking and Other Stories

by Katie Fforde

  Thank God she was hopeless with names, thought Jo. Otherwise they were in trouble.

  Matthew laughed softly. For someone who didn’t want to sleep with his hostess, he was sounding very sexy. ‘Lulu was so last season! Anyway, when we stopped for fuel, Jo went to the loo at the petrol station and broke the heel on her shoe.’

  ‘Oh, nightmare!’ Caroline obviously felt this was a genuine disaster.

  ‘Yah, and worse – she was so fed up about it, she got distracted and only realised too late that she’d left her make-up bag in the loo, which I gather wasn’t exactly nose-friendly—’

  ‘What?’ asked Caroline.

  ‘It stank,’ said Matthew. Jo was glad of the explanation, too.

  ‘Oh God. Of course.’

  ‘Anyway the poor girl is here—’

  ‘Here? Already!’

  ‘It’s OK. Andi let us in, and I’m about to raid your fridge for a bottle of fizz – but Jo is so embarrassed about having no make-up and no shoes. Could I pop up and borrow a pair? And something – a bit of mascara? Just to make her feel a little better?’ He lowered his voice, as if to protect his mythical girlfriend. ‘You set a very high standard for glamour. Jo is nervous enough about meeting you. She’s quite shy.’

  Jo nodded. It might help; it might explain her being so helpful. It might also make it easier for her to run out of the room for no apparent reason. That would be handy.

  ‘Sweet!’ said Caroline, in a way that made Jo feel patronised even when she was a fictional character. ‘Tell you what, darling,’ Caroline went on. ‘You pop up here and find some shoes, and I’ll let Jo have my travel make-up kit.’

  ‘Perfume?’ Jo mouthed. Matthew nodded.

  ‘I’ll pop up,’ he said to Caroline and disconnected.

  While he was away, Jo looked at her watch and realised that unless she really got a move on, everything was going to be late. It was always the way, she realised as she flew around, putting the three-bird roast in the oven and adding cheese to her choux pastry: you think you’ve got lots of time and then something happens that means you’re suddenly up against it. It made her feel she was in some ghastly cooking competition and was going to have people counting down the time and clapping as it came near to service.

  However, with the oven on, she consulted her list and realised she didn’t need to panic just yet.

  It was a challenging menu, and Andi hadn’t been able to prepare as much beforehand as she would have liked, being so taken up with Caroline’s entertaining. What made it tougher was Caroline’s understandable desire to offer less-fattening alternatives. Hence the langoustines and moules alongside individual cranberry-and-brie quiches (fortunately already made) and the blinis with caviar and sour cream. (Andi had told Jo that a low-fat yoghurt option had been considered and rejected.)

  Then there was a game terrine with brioche and chutney, or smoked salmon. The three-bird roast was considered to be healthy enough for anyone. And then there was the pudding. Annoyingly, the details for this were missing, and Jo looked in vain for mention of it on another sheet, but no. All Andi had written was: ‘you won’t need to worry about the pudding’, and then she had obviously been interrupted, because there was a dot on the page where she might have been about to start a new paragraph, but then nothing more.

  Jo was just checking for the fourth time that the notes had come to an end when Matthew came back with a handful of shoes and a make-up bag. Seeing them, she said, ‘Oh God, I don’t think I can do this dressed up as someone else. This is not your normal Christmas dinner – it’s very posh cooking. I’ll have to concentrate!’

  ‘Just get into the make-up and see if the shoes fit, and we’ll make a plan.’

  It was nice to feel she wasn’t alone in this. ‘OK.’

  ‘So which ones do you fancy? Caroline found a bag of shoes that was due to go to the charity shop and I said you’d be fine with that.’

  Jo grinned. ‘I get most of my clothes from charity shops anyway,’ she said, ‘so perfectly fine.’

  She chose a pair of tasselled loafers over the ballet flats, and ignored the heels. Caroline’s feet were a bit bigger than hers, but that wouldn’t matter because she wasn’t pretending they were hers. ‘These feel OK.’

  ‘We’ll tell Caroline you’re frightened of heels since yours broke,’ said Matthew, picking up the pairs with stilt heels that had probably cost three figures.

  ‘I’d forgotten that was the excuse for my needing to borrow some,’ said Jo. ‘Now for the hard part: I don’t wear a lot of make-up and I haven’t time to experiment.’

  ‘So don’t. Just wear what you usually wear. You’ve got lovely skin – you don’t need a lot.’

  Jo’s lovely skin evinced embarrassment at this compliment with a delicate flush, but she didn’t comment and just took the bag.

  She was back in the kitchen a couple of minutes later. ‘OK?’ she said. ‘I just put on the usual, although Caroline has got wonderful make-up.’

  He studied her. ‘You look lovely.’ Then he tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘Simple but elegant. I have very good taste when it comes to women, it seems.’

  She blushed again. ‘So when do we have to appear upstairs?’

  ‘Not for a while. I’ll open a bottle of fizz.’

  ‘Matthew! We’re not really Caroline’s guests, you know. At least I’m not. I’m going to put my clogs and jacket back on and get to work, as soon as ever I can after I’ve been presented as your girlfriend.’

  He responded calmly to her mild panic. ‘If I’m going to peel potatoes, I’ll want something to keep me going. It’s Christmas, after all.’

  ‘You really don’t have to peel—’

  ‘The alternative is going upstairs to read Hello! magazine while Caroline gets ready. And I’d have to take you with me.’

  She bit her lip. ‘I never thought of that.’

  ‘So what can I do?’

  ‘Well, if you’d like to find all the right wines – there’s a list – and open the reds, that would be great. Andi said they were in the cellar, but couldn’t tell me where exactly.’

  ‘That’s OK, I know my way round Caroline’s cellar. And after that I’ll get on with the potatoes.’

  Jo’s fingers flew, peeling and shaping the veg into perfect little examples of their kind. She was doing a tray of roast vegetables as well as the potatoes, and it all took a lot of preparation. She did it on autopilot while she worried about the pudding.

  Apart from that, Andi had given pretty detailed instructions about what was needed, what she had prepared and what had to be done at the last minute. And Jo didn’t need to worry about the pudding just yet. Lunch was due to be served at three and it was only half past ten now. There were plenty of opportunities for other things to go wrong before they reached that stage. She assumed she’d find a Christmas pudding somewhere, which she could just put into the microwave and serve with whatever sauce seemed appropriate. If necessary, she’d offer brandy butter, rum sauce and plain cream. The fridge was groaning with ingredients.

  Jo enjoyed cooking and, while her knife flew, she forgot there was a reason she was wearing cashmere under her chef’s jacket and so was rather warm.

  Matthew’s phone ringing reminded her. ‘Darling?’ Caroline’s voice was heard. ‘I’m beautiful now. Come up and see me. I can’t wait to meet your girlfriend.’

  Jo’s eyes flew to him. ‘Oh God, I’m not sure—’

  ‘Come on,’ he said urgently. ‘Remember your reward: the biggest fundraiser your charity will ever get! Now wipe your hands and get that jacket off.’

  Together they left the kitchen and walked up the stairs to the first-floor drawing room, which had a view over the surrounding parkland to rival many other grand vistas.

  Caroline stood in the curve of the bay window, looking sensational. She was wearing tight trousers in the softest caramel-coloured suede, which showed off her exquisite legs and which ended in shoes that, to Jo’s inexperienced eye, seemed to be
studded with diamonds. A blouse made of very heavy silk showcased her famously enhanced cleavage to excellent effect. She wore a huge square-cut emerald ring and several heavy gold bangles. Although close up she was a little more lined than her photographs showed, she was still extremely beautiful.

  Jo’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she deeply regretted not having had any champagne.

  ‘This is Jo,’ said Matthew, leading her forward. ‘Jo, this is my absolutely favourite “almost-relation”, Caroline.’

  Jo held out her hand, knowing it would feel like sandpaper in Caroline’s. She spent so much time with her hands in water – very often cold water. But she needn’t have worried. Caroline ignored the hand and instead took her by the shoulders and brushed her cheek against hers. Then she pulled back and studied her.

  ‘Darling,’ she said to Matthew, still holding on to Jo. ‘She’s adorable! Quite unlike your usual type, I’d have thought.’

  Jo decided not to be insulted.

  ‘If you mean she’s a non-smoker who loves country walks and snuggling up in front of roaring fires, then she is a bit different.’ He twinkled at Jo. ‘But you’ll admit she’s extremely pretty.’

  Jo blushed again, hoping her change of clothes and the jewellery would make this at least partly true. ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk about me as if I weren’t here,’ she said.

  ‘Quite right.’ Caroline took her arm and led her over to one of the many sofas. ‘Let’s go and get to know each other. Matthew, ring that bell. Get Andi to bring up some champagne.’

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Matthew. ‘Andi’s got enough on her plate.’

  Jo suddenly felt like one of the charity dogs, rescued from years of continuous puppy-bearing, encountering a strange being – a human – for more or less the first time. She had no idea what Caroline might do and wished she could escape. She managed a smile.

  ‘This is a really beautiful house,’ she said. ‘The views from here are stunning.’

  ‘Yes. I bought it for the views, partly. But also it’s handy for London, and a lot of my friends have places nearby – or nearby for Gloucestershire.’ She laughed.

  Jo felt she had to keep up the conversation. If she fell silent, Caroline might ask her a question she couldn’t answer. Her mother’s criticism that she spent so much time with dogs that she had almost forgotten how to communicate with humans seemed almost justified. Although she did work as a receptionist, she reminded herself. She had some people skills. ‘Are you working on any exciting new projects at the moment, Caroline?’ she asked. Why was Matthew taking so long? It was only one flight of stairs to the kitchen, after all.

  Caroline smiled. ‘I have plans.’

  ‘Can you tell me what they are?’ Jo was proud of herself. She was doing social chit-chat as if it was second nature.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh.’ Then she said, ‘Sorry, I just have to go and look at the view again.’ She got up and walked to the window. The view could keep things going for a while longer, she hoped. ‘So, what are those hills in the distance?’

  ‘I’m not sure. So, tell me, Jo—’

  Jo was spared telling Caroline anything by the entrance of Matthew, who had filled a tray with champagne flutes. ‘I’ll just go and get some bottles,’ he said.

  ‘No, really, Matthew! Just ring for Andi – here, I’ll do it.’ Caroline walked across towards the fireplace, but before she could press the bell Jo intervened.

  ‘Goodness me,’ she said, ‘I thought those logs were real!’ She pointed at the fireplace. ‘I have never seen such a realistic fake fire. If I hadn’t noticed that none of the logs had moved, I would never have guessed.’

  She didn’t know if Caroline would be hugely insulted by this or not, but it was too bad.

  Fortunately, Caroline wasn’t insulted. ‘It’s good, isn’t it? It’s made by a firm that has a real log fire burning in its showroom and they get you to tell them – or even take a picture of – the moment you like best as the fire burns, and then they reproduce it.’

  ‘It’s a miracle,’ said Jo. What she meant was that it was a miracle she’d managed to keep going with the small talk this long.

  Then Matthew came in with the bottles. He had three of them. ‘When are you expecting the rest of your guests, Caro? Will this be enough fizz?’

  ‘I wasn’t specific about time. And I should think that’ll be enough. For us, anyway. Get a bottle open and we’ll have a Christmas wish as we drink it.’ Caroline glanced at Matthew meaningfully.

  Jo knew what she’d be wishing for: she’d be wishing for the meal to go well and for her not to be discovered, either as Matthew’s fake girlfriend or as the stand-in cook.

  ‘So, here’s to our Christmas wishes coming true,’ said Caroline. ‘Goodness me,’ she said to Jo a few moments later, ‘you drank that quickly. Matthew, fill her up.’ She drained her own glass. ‘Fill us both up. Although maybe I should ring for the canapés. We don’t want to get legless before the other guests arrive.’

  ‘Might be more sensible to wait until they’re here, or we’ll have eaten them all before they arrive,’ said Matthew.

  Caroline shrugged. ‘Whatever you think, Matt. So, tell me, Jo, what do you do?’

  Matthew said, ‘Well—’ but before he could go on, Caroline held up a hand.

  ‘She can speak for herself, you know, Matthew.’

  Jo felt reasonably calm about this, although she realised – and possibly Matthew realised too, which was why he’d tried to step in – that they should have spent some time thinking up a fictional CV for her. ‘I work as a receptionist in a hotel,’ she said, upgrading the small guest house where she also did cleaning and breakfasts, if the need arose.

  ‘Oh! And is that satisfying for you?’ Caroline seemed to suggest it couldn’t possibly be satisfying.’

  ‘I like it,’ said Jo. ‘It isn’t terribly demanding, but it’ll do for now.’ And they were very understanding about her needing to work flexible hours, so that she could spend time with the charity.

  ‘And do you live nearby?’ Caroline went on.

  ‘Caro, I told you,’ broke in Matthew, ‘her parents live near mine.’

  ‘Did you, darling? Oh, shame! I need a personal assistant – I thought Jo might be perfect. Especially if she’s a bit understretched where she is at the moment.’

  Jo swallowed, glad that Matthew had interrupted. In fact she lived perfectly close enough to Caroline’s mansion to work for her, but she knew enough from Andi that she wouldn’t like it one bit, even if she wasn’t sacked on the first day. Andi only coped because Caroline wasn’t there all the time. She’d want her PA at her side, constantly, being run ragged.

  ‘Oh, goodness,’ said Jo, who had walked across to the window again. ‘A Rolls-Royce is coming up the drive.’

  Caroline laughed. ‘That’ll be Cindy and Max. They are a little bit “nouveau”, but great fun. He’s a Formula One driver,’ she went on, for Jo’s benefit. ‘And she’s a trophy wife from God-knows-where, but, as I said, fun.’

  What on earth would she say about me, if she really knew me? Jo wondered. ‘Poor but honest’ was probably the best she could hope for.

  ‘I’ll go down and let them in,’ said Matthew.

  ‘No need. Andi will do it,’ said Caroline with calm certainty.

  Jo considered, knowing very well that Andi wouldn’t. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I need the bathroom. Maybe Matthew could show me where it is and let Max and Cindy in at the same time? Andi was pretty busy when we last saw her.’

  Caroline shrugged. ‘The guest bathroom is on this floor. If you go along—’

  ‘I’ll show her,’ said Matthew. ‘It’ll be quicker.’

  ‘Oh my God! This is a nightmare,’ said Jo as she ran down the stairs as fast as her too-big loafers would let her.

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Matthew calmly. ‘You go and do what you can in the kitchen. If you’re a bit slow coming back up, I’ll just say you didn’t feel well.’ />
  ‘I don’t feel well!’ said Jo and flew into the kitchen. ‘I’ll get the canapés on a tray and you can take them up. Come back and get a second tray, and then we don’t have to worry about them any more.’

  While she heard Matthew greeting Cindy and Max with enthusiasm, she whacked a tray of quiches into a low oven – thank God this kitchen seemed to have dozens – and put on the striped apron Andi had left behind the door. Putting her chef’s jacket on would take too long. She’d keep that for when she needed to be on show.

  The canapés were laid out on a large silver platter by the time Matthew had taken coats and sent Max and Cindy up the stairs. ‘Come up as soon as you can,’ he said to her as he took the tray.

  While she didn’t hang around, Jo didn’t rush. It would be so annoying to make a mistake, when a few moments’ thought could have prevented it. Having checked the quiches, she went back to the list. ‘Quiches, take them out of the oven when Matthew comes back, fill up the tray with other stuff,’ she said to herself, aware that the quiches were a bit pale, but deciding they would do. She worked as she thought, filling up another tray with blinis and prawns and adding a couple of small bowls of olives that she’d found in the fridge, to fill up the tray. She spotted a bag of Kettle Chips and opened them, putting them in some pretty bowls. The tray was short only of the quiches, as she waited for Matthew.

  She turned her attention to the starter. ‘OK, the terrine can come up to room temp; the brioche I’ll warm nearer the time. Smoked salmon needs bread and butter and lemon wedges.’

  She found talking to herself really helped, and she would consider whether or not it meant she had gone mad when she had more time. She glanced up at the clock. ‘Twelve thirty – lunch is due at three, but I’ll serve it when it’s ready; put the veg in now. Find the meat thermometer—’

  ‘I think you should come back up now.’ Matthew stood before her some time later. ‘People are threatening to come and check up on you. Everyone’s here now and they want to drink toasts.’

  ‘Damn! I was getting along nicely. But thank you for getting the door – it really saved me some time.’