A Family For Christmas

by Linda Finlay

  ‘Everything’s prepared. Your guests are arriving so you’d better get moving,’ Duncan said, becoming serious.

  Ben sighed. ‘No time for that cuppa, then. I’d better change into my outfit, then rescue Rose. I’m sure Mother Evangaline can’t wait to have her new grandson to herself. Hopefully he’ll be in fine voice,’ he grinned.

  ‘Come along, Eliza, I’ll guide you down to the orchard,’ Duncan said, picking up her cloak from the back of the chair. As he gallantly draped it around her shoulders, he whispered, ‘You look stunning. However, no self-respecting maid would ever go to the festivities bare-headed so I’ve made this for you.’ He held up a circle of laurel leaves and placed it gently on her hair. She blushed self-consciously.

  ‘Well, at least I’ve changed,’ she quipped, trying to hide her awkwardness.

  ‘Indeed you have,’ he agreed, giving her a lingering look. ‘I’ll have you know, young lady, I braved a shower in the waterfall earlier and the water stung like icy needles. I also changed into a clean shirt, which I’m wearing beneath my coat.’ For some reason she didn’t understand, this information made her cheeks go warm again.

  ‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ he continued, opening the door and holding out his arm for her to take.

  It was crisp outside, their breath spiralling before them as it rose into the night air. As Duncan helped her down the slippery path towards the festivities, Eliza saw a huge bonfire had been lit, its red and orange flames illuminating the inky darkness. As they drew nearer, she could hear the crackle of burning branches and smell the wood smoke mingling with the aroma of pungent spices. Judging by the sounds of joviality, this was an important event, she thought, pulling the cape tighter around her. Mistaking her gesture, Duncan pulled her closer and she caught the scent of pine from the soap he’d used. Feeling her cheeks growing ever hotter, she was thankful for the cover of darkness. She couldn’t imagine life without him now and hoped she wouldn’t ever have to.

  ‘You’ll soon get warm amongst all these people,’ he said, smiling down at her. As they entered the orchard, the bare trees loomed out of the shadows like dark sentinels, their branches closing together like a great canopy.

  ‘Goodness, just look at all those nests. They must have very big birds round here,’ she exclaimed, pointing to the higher branches where little bushes hung like pendants.

  Duncan chuckled. ‘That is mistletoe, little un. Some think it a parasitic plant but we Druids believe it protects the possessor from evil. It has wonderful curative properties but, of course, most people use it to decorate their homes at Christmas when it is the tradition to steal a kiss beneath it.’

  ‘Steal a kiss?’

  ‘Indeed, it is deemed permissible to kiss the object of one’s desire when he or she is standing under mistletoe, though one must be scrupulous about removing a berry for each kiss. When none remain, the kissing must stop. Did you never decorate your home with mistletoe at Christmas, then?’

  Eliza shook her head. Why, her parents barely acknowledged the day, let alone decorated their cottage.

  He led her through the thronging crowd, calling out greetings as he went. Finally they came to a halt in front of a platform that had been erected from old branches. ‘Now we await the arrival of our King and Queen,’ he said. ‘That’s Ben and Rose,’ he teased, seeing her eyes widen in amazement. ‘They will lead the festivities and when it comes to the singing and dancing I shall accompany them.’ He dug in his pocket and brought out his flute. ‘Here they come,’ he whispered.

  The crowd gave a triumphant cheer as Ben and Rose, dressed in their regal finery, appeared. Suddenly the air was rent with the deafening sound of drumming as everyone banged vigorously on the pots and pans they’d brought with them.

  ‘This is to wake the cider apple trees and scare off the evil spirits who inhabit the woods in the form of worms and maggots. Once they’re gone, the good spirits will be attracted,’ Duncan explained, raising his voice above the clamour.

  ‘Wassail,’ shouted the crowd as Ben and Rose climbed onto the makeshift platform. Ben held up his mug and the orchard fell silent, the atmosphere crackling with anticipation.

  ‘Greetings and welcome to one and all,’ Ben cried. ‘I shall now call upon the Spirit of the Apple Tree.’

  Here’s to Thee,

  Spirit of the Apple Tree

  Waken now and hear our plea

  Upon every single apple bough

  Your fertility you will bestow

  To make our apples bloom and grow

  As his voice died away everyone clapped and cheered. With a flourish, he took a piece of the toast they’d made earlier and dipped it into the clayen, which was now brimming with the spiced cider, rings of apple floating on the top. Handing it ceremoniously to Rose, he then lifted her up to the large old tree behind the platform, where she placed it firmly between its branches.

  ‘This is a present to the spirit of the oldest tree where the fertility of the orchard is housed,’ Duncan whispered.

  That done, Ben and Rose dipped their mugs into the clayen and skipped through the orchard sprinkling cider around the roots of the trees. Finally, they climbed back onto the platform and carefully lifted the precious clayen.

  ‘Wassail,’ shouted Ben. The crowd cheered and began to sing.

  Here’s to the old apple tree

  Hats full, caps full,

  Bushel sacks full

  As the song died away, Ben again shouted, ‘Wassail.’

  ‘Drink ale,’ the crowd responded, surging towards the platform, holding out their mugs. As Ben ladled out the spiced cider, Duncan grabbed a brimming mug and handed it to Eliza.

  ‘Drink and enjoy, little un. It’ll warm your insides.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, cautiously taking a sip. ‘That’s delicious.’ She took another drink.

  ‘Take heed: it’s stronger than you think,’ Duncan warned, raising his voice above the noise. Reluctantly, she handed him back the mug. Then she saw Rose handing out the apple cakes to the eager revellers and she went over and helped herself from the tray.

  ‘These are really good, aren’t they?’ she said, biting into one and pocketing another.

  Duncan nodded. ‘Hmm, just the right amount of mace, young un. Well done. Oh, look, Ben and Rose are about to start off the dancing.’ He lifted his flute to his lips and began to play. As the lilting melody filled the air, everyone began to sing and dance.

  Never before had she seen so many people laughing and having fun, Eliza thought, clapping and swaying in time to the music. Suddenly she felt a prickle crawl up the back of her neck. Someone was watching her. Looking up, she found herself staring into Fay’s eyes. The woman was standing a little way back from the revellers and she nodded to Eliza.

  ‘Fay,’ Eliza called, hurrying over. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Just came to make sure the Spirit of the Apple Tree was invoked,’ she said gruffly.

  ‘Here, have an apple cake. I made them with Rose,’ Eliza said, taking out the cake she’d pocketed earlier. ‘Shall I get you some cider cup?’

  ‘Stop fussing, child,’ Fay grunted, but she bit into the cake hungrily. ‘Not bad,’ she pronounced, and Eliza grinned into the darkness. Obviously the woman was back to her taciturn self. ‘Suppose you’re finding it nice and comfortable at the farmhouse?’ Fay asked, staring at the bonfire as she spoke.

  ‘Suppose you’re finding it comfortable with your own company?’ Eliza countered, taking care not to look at the
woman.

  ‘Don’t suppose you’d fancy coming back to the homestead, anyhow.’

  ‘Don’t suppose you’d want me cluttering up your space.’

  ‘Honestly, you two sound just like grandmother and granddaughter,’ Duncan said, appearing out of the shadows. Fay snorted. ‘Good to see you again, Fay,’ he added.

  She let out another snort. ‘You visited yesterday, whippersnapper, and don’t think I didn’t realize you were checking up on me.’

  ‘As if,’ he protested, grinning at Eliza. ‘Doesn’t little un look good in her finery?’

  ‘Smart clothes, like fine words, don’t butter no parsnips. And they won’t be much good for keeping warm back at home, will they?’

  Duncan and Eliza looked at one another.

  ‘Home? You mean you want me to come back?’ Eliza asked.

  ‘Can’t impose on Rose and Ben any longer, can you? I heard her mother had arrived and you’ll only be in the way now. Likes to rule the roost, that one, and I’m not sure you’d measure up in her books, anyhow.’

  Remembering the woman’s condescending attitude towards her earlier, Eliza privately agreed. She could just imagine the fuss if she was caught sleeping by the range.

  ‘Well, that’s settled then,’ Duncan said. ‘It’s a fair walk back, so I’ll ask Ben if I can borrow his wagon.’

  ‘Not for me you won’t, boy. I made my own way down and I’ll make my own way back. Don’t keep Eliza out too late, though; can’t do with having my sleep disturbed at my age.’ She turned and began striding back towards the path.

  ‘Shouldn’t we go after her?’ Eliza asked.

  Duncan shook his head. ‘No point in upsetting her. Still, it’s obvious she’s missed you.’

  ‘Come on, Duncan, we’re waiting for more music,’ someone called. As others murmured in agreement, he grinned ruefully.

  ‘Let’s enjoy the rest of the festivities, then I’ll take you home,’ he said, picking up his flute.

  Home! Home! Home! The words went round Eliza’s head in time to the beating music. She watched Duncan’s fingers moving gracefully up and down the wooden instrument and felt … she didn’t know what she was feeling. Just then, he looked up and caught her watching. Passing his flute to a lad standing nearby, he held out his arms.

  ‘May I request the honour of this dance, little un?’

  Involuntarily, she glanced down at her foot.

  ‘Come on,’ he urged.

  As he whirled her around in time to the music she felt as if she was floating, her feet hardly seeming to touch the ground. Before long she was caught up in the merriment. Never before had she enjoyed herself like this, she thought, smiling up at Duncan.

  ‘Come on, little un, time we were getting back. We can’t have you getting exhausted,’ he said gruffly, taking her hand and leading her through the crowds until they came to the platform where Rose and Ben were presiding over the festivities. ‘Just spoken to Fay and she’s ready for Eliza to return so I’m taking her home. As it’s been a long day for her – can I borrow the wagon?’

  ‘Of course,’ Ben agreed.

  ‘I wish you could stay,’ Rose said, turning to Eliza.

  ‘You don’t need me now your mother has arrived. She’ll want you and Joshua to herself.’

  ‘But I’ll miss you. You will come and see us soon, won’t you?’ Eliza nodded. ‘Duncan thinks the world of you,’ Rose whispered, throwing her arms around her.

  ‘And I think the world of him. He makes me feel happier than I’ve ever been,’ she sighed. ‘I’ve loved staying with you, Rose. Thank you for making me so welcome.’ She felt a pang deep inside for she would miss her new friend. Then with another sigh, she turned and began making her way up the path towards the farmhouse.

  She just had time to snatch up her precious bundle of new clothes before Duncan appeared at the door. He was holding a candle lantern and, placing it carefully on the seat, helped her into the wagon.

  ‘Don’t want you catching another chill, do we?’ he murmured, covering her with a blanket. Then, with a call to the horse, they began moving.

  Soon they’d left the sounds of revelry behind, and apart from the rhythmic clip-clop of the horse’s hooves they were enclosed in the night’s silent cloak. Cold moonlight shone from a clear sky, while hedges coated in silver frost cast eerie ebony shadows all around them.

  ‘Look at all those stars,’ she marvelled, staring up at the sky, where seemingly millions were twinkling like diamonds on a velvet cloth. ‘It’s been a magical evening,’ she sighed. He nodded.

  ‘Wassail is a special time.’

  ‘I really like Ben and Rose,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe how snooty her mother is, though.’

  Duncan’s laughter sounded loud in the quiet of the night. ‘She does have a certain aura, I’ll grant you.’

  Eliza hooted in derision. ‘That’s not what I’d call it. What was Rose’s father like?’

  ‘Lovely chap. Too meek and mild for his own good, though. He absolutely adored his wife and strove to provide everything she wanted. Not that it was ever enough for Mother Evangaline. He worked himself into the ground, poor man. And for what? Chattels, which, however fine, were never good enough, that’s what. ’Tis people that matter in this world, little un, not possessions.’ He shook his head, then turned to look at her. ‘Talking of auras, did you see any more of Great-Grandfather Joshua?’ Although he spoke casually, Eliza sensed her answer was important to him.

  ‘I didn’t see him again but I’m sure I smelled his pipe a few times. Or do you think that’s fanciful?’

  Duncan shook his head. ‘No, I don’t. Christmas and Wassail were his favourite time of year so if his spirit were to pay a visit it would be around now.’

  Suddenly the horse whinnied and came to an abrupt halt. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve seen him too, old boy,’ Duncan called, leaning forward and patting him soothingly. ‘Come along, walk on.’ But the animal was having none of it and refused to budge. Duncan peered into the darkness.

  ‘What the …?’ The rest of his sentence was lost as he leaped down from the wagon. Then Eliza heard him murmuring gently and she saw he was trying to lift something into an upright position.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, clambering down and crouching beside him.

  ‘It’s Fay,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘She’s not dead, is she?’ Eliza whispered, staring aghast at the lifeless body.

  11

  ‘Of course I’m not,’ Fay snorted, her eyes snapping open. ‘I slipped on that blooming glass frost. Well, don’t just stand there, pull me up, boy,’ she commanded, holding out her hand to Duncan.

  ‘Careful does it, Fay. Let’s make sure nothing’s broken first,’ he said, running assessing fingers over her leg. He began pulling off her boot but she slapped his hands away.

  ‘If you think I’m lying in the perishing cold whilst you play doctors, you’ve got another think coming. Come on, take me home.’ Duncan and Eliza exchanged glances but, knowing it would be futile to argue, they began manoeuvring Fay as gently as possible into the wagon. It was obvious she was in pain, but she stoically stared straight ahead and they knew better than to comment. Once they’d got her onto the bench, Eliza covered her with the blanket, then went round and slid awkwardly into the middle so she could support the woman. Duncan swung himself up next to her and, unbidden, the horse began to move.

  Eliza couldn’t believe how much the temperature had fallen. The higher they climbed the colder it got. All around, seemingly endless moorland gl
istened with virgin white snow, which even in the moonlight hurt her eyes. Here and there trees bent low by the harsh weather lined the path, their branches coated with thick glittering ice. She shivered; winter certainly lasted much longer this high up on the moors.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a screech that pierced the silence of the night. It sounded like a tortured soul in pain and Eliza shuddered, feeling the hairs on her neck prickle. Hearing her sharp intake of breath, Duncan reached out and patted her hand.

  ‘Easy, little un. That’s just a vixen calling for her lover.’

  ‘You mean that noise is normal?’ she gasped. He nodded and Eliza was sure Fay gave a faint chuckle from beneath the cover.

  ‘Listen and you’ll hear him answer,’ he instructed. Sure enough a moment later, she heard a sharp bark echoing across the fields. ‘There, that’s the dogfox. I’ll show you their tracks in the snow one day, if you like. You’ll be amazed how large their paw prints are.’

  Eliza shivered, thinking that was one treat she could do without. Luckily she was saved from answering as they’d reached the river and all his concentration was centred on guiding the wagon over the narrow bridge.

  ‘Nearly home, Fay,’ Duncan commented, but the woman’s eyes were closed and she didn’t answer. However, no sooner had the wagon come to a halt than she snapped awake, cast aside the blanket and attempted to climb down. Her usually agile movements were clumsy and Eliza could see her wincing.

  ‘Stay there, old thing,’ Duncan said, jumping down and going around to her side. Making sure the blanket was tucked tightly around her, he lifted her into his arms. As Eliza went to climb down, he shook his head.

  ‘Wait here. That ground’s as slippery as the glass the frost is named after and it will do none of us any good if you fall and hurt yourself as well. Hold out the lantern so I can see.’

  She did as he asked, then watched as he slowly inched his way along the path, carefully holding Fay. The wind rose, moaning across the vast expanse of moorland and Eliza pulled the cloak tighter round her. Then Duncan was back, tossing her bundle over his shoulder and lifting her into his arms as if she weighed no more than a fistful of feathers. Gripping the lantern tightly, she held her breath as he slipped and skidded towards the hobble.