‘Her won’t shift, then?’ said Jeremy gloomily.
‘You’ll be fine. You trust us, don’t you? I’d best get you some more wood in.’
‘I’ll do it,’ said Harry.
By the time they left him, it had become a blizzard. The wind, driving in vicious gusts down the hillside, was strong enough to take a man off his feet. It chased them round the corner of the house, obliging them to enter by the front door. Rosie, her duties discharged, joined them.
‘Everything all right?’ asked Alison.
‘All snug,’ said Rosie. ‘Just let me see that fire.’ There was a good blaze going in the big, old-fashioned fireplace and she fell to her knees on the hearthrug, holding her great, red hands to the flames.
‘Gosh, listen to it!’ said Archie excitedly. ‘Woo, woo, woo.’
‘You mustn’t be frightened, dear,’ said Hannah. ‘We’re quite safe in here.’
‘Don’t be silly, Grandma, of course I’m not frightened,’ said Archie. ‘It’s only wind,’
‘Archie! Don’t be rude to Grandma.’
‘Sorry, Grandma,’ said Archie.
Hannah merely chuckled.
Harry gazed at her wonderingly. This was a new side to his mother, albeit a welcome one.
The wind had now risen to an eldritch scream, accompanied by assorted bangs and clatters as overlooked items tumbled about the place or were swept away.
‘There goes Parsnip’s pail,’ said Rosie. ‘I forgot to bring it in.’
‘How high are we here?’ asked Charles. ‘I suppose it must be quite exposed.’
‘Five hundred and thirty-two feet,’ said Hannah. ‘We’re not the highest though; Miller’s is higher.’
‘It’s nearly seven hundred at the top of the hill,’ said Harry. ‘I’d have taken you up if the weather had been better. There’s quite a spectacular view on a clear day.’
‘May I sit next to you, Charles?’ said Lydia. ‘I’m a bit frightened, even if Archie isn’t.’
Charles, who was on the sofa with Ethel, looked hunted. ‘Not a lot of room for three, Lydia.’
‘Yes, there is,’ said Lydia, wriggling in, ‘If you put your arm around me there’ll be plenty. There! Now I feel safe.’
‘A thorn between two roses,’ chuckled his father. ‘They should have hung that mistletoe there, eh lad?’
‘They could always move it,’ suggested Archie.
‘Lord, my car!’ said Charles, jumping up. ‘Sorry, ladies. I’d best take a look at it.’
‘You might check the others,’ said Harry, ‘if you’re going.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Ethel. She waited at the front door while he plunged into the whirling darkness, returning moments later to brush himself down and stamp the snow off his shoes.
‘No open windows or anything,’ he reported. ‘It’s really coming down now.’
Ethel kissed him and drew him along the hall. ‘That’s all right, then. And you’re a coward.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know perfectly well what I mean.’
Charles rolled his eyes. ‘Have you noticed the way she looks at me? A man’s not safe. If I were a box of chocolates, she’d be starting on the second layer.’
Ethel giggled. That’s a polite way of putting it. Now you know what it feels like to be me, not that I blame them. If I were a man, I’d look at me. Come along.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘The dining room. The fire can probably be revived, and we’ll be on our own. And if you’re a good boy I might try one of your rum truffles or a strawberry cream or two. I’m very partial to strawberry creams.’
Charles laughed. ‘You, are a wicked girl.’
‘Isn’t that how you like them?’
◆◆◆
Harry climbed into the great, lumpy bed. It was alleged to have been warmed but you wouldn’t have known it. ‘I don’t suppose anyone has slept in this ghastly thing since the last time we came,’ he said. ‘Brrr! Cold as a nun’s . . . embrace.’
‘You may not find mine much of an improvement,’ grumbled Helen from under the covers. ‘I’m absolutely perished. Get that hand off me!’
‘Sorry, the water was cold. What about Mother, then? I’d scarcely have recognised her.’
‘Must have been at the cooking sherry. I don’t recall ever seeing her smile before.’
‘I’m not even sure I have. She’s almost human. Can’t just be the broken leg, surely?’
‘Forced to be nice because she’s now helpless? Quite a change for her when you think about it.’
‘There’s certainly been a change in my sisters. One would expect them to take over a bit, I suppose, but it’s more than that; it’s as if they’ve blossomed suddenly, Ali especially.’
‘Only twenty years late, then. They’ll be getting themselves married next. That’ll please Lydia.’
Harry groaned. ‘That child! It’s embarrassing.’
‘I don’t suppose it’ll last,’ said Helen reassuringly. ‘If she becomes insufferable, I’ll have a word with her.’
‘Ethel was never like that, chasing after grown men. And a doctor to boot!’
‘No, but she had her pashes; she was just more discreet about them. There was Miss Wainright, if you’ll remember. Not that I’d ever remind her of that.’
‘The fair Wainright — of course! She had good taste anyway.’
‘Oh, did she?’
Chapter Five
Helen wondered how long she had been asleep. It couldn’t be more than four or five hours because she’d still been awake at two, listening to the wind, and it was barely light now. She turned to Harry but he’d gone. Climbing blearily out of bed she put on her dressing gown and slippers and drawing back the curtains looked out over the valley and the hills beyond. The virgin snow, quite deep in the drifts, was presently suffused with pink, the long, dawn shadows sharp upon it. It was really rather beautiful. The children will love this, she thought, Archie anyway. Lydia, she reminded herself, was “hardly a child.” But what if they couldn’t get home to open the shop? There was going to be some tricky telephoning required, assuming they could find one. If the lines were down, they would be cut off completely.
Charles Bartlett, she saw, was already below her, digging out the cars. How careful and methodical he was, piling the snow neatly nearby and brushing the last of it from the bodywork. It occurred to her she might be watching her future son-in-law, judging by yesterday. They’d looked very well together she thought; both of them dark and handsome and practically glowing with mutual attraction.
On the landing she discovered Ethel, impatiently waiting for the bathroom. No need to guess who was the present occupier. So cold! She returned whence she came, took out the baggy old sweater she’d packed in anticipation and slipped it on over everything.
Ethel followed her in. ‘Titivating herself for Charles, no doubt,’ she grumbled. ‘She’ll come out smelling like an explosion in a perfumery. That’s if she ever does come out.’
‘Was she being a nuisance last night? I did wonder.’
Ethel rolled her eyes. ‘Not so you’d notice! We went and hid in the dining room in the end.’
‘Oh dear. Wasn’t it dreadfully cold?’
‘Perishing.’
Helen smiled sympathetically. ‘Poor darling. I’m so sorry. You must like him, to put up with that.’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Ethel. Definitely worth losing some fingers and toes for.’
‘Goodbye Tom Sheppard then?’
‘Who? Oh, him.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘Actually, Mum, I really, really like him. I know it’s silly when I only met him on Sunday but I do. We’ve even got the same sense of humour.’
‘I don’t see why it’s silly. Sometimes you just know. I did with your father.’
&nb
sp; ‘Really? I’d assumed that was sort of slow-burning, like a fuse.’
‘Not at all; he was hot stuff when he was younger. I was swept off my feet.’
Knowing her father, Ethel looked sceptical. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. ‘It’s a bit frightening isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I never felt like this about the others, not even Rod Crawford.’ Suppose I mess it up and put him off? Suppose I’ve already put him off?’
‘I doubt that extremely. And the chances are he’ll be feeling just the same as you. I know he likes you because he never stops looking at you and he sticks to you like glue. Smitten, I’d say.’
‘He does seem to be,’ agreed Ethel. ‘It hasn’t stopped him noticing Lydia’s attentions, though. She makes me cross!’
‘Darling, I know it’s annoying but she’s at a difficult age. Just humour her. Listen, she’s coming out. And merry Christmas!’
‘Merry Christmas, Mum,’ said Ethel, making for the door. ‘Good grief! What on earth is the child wearing?’
Helen stifled a snigger. ‘Lydia, sweetheart, is that entirely appropriate for the time of day?’
‘What’s wrong with it?’ scowled Lydia, looking down at herself. ‘It’s Christmas, for goodness’ sake. And I’m not a child!’
‘I think you’ll find there’s already a fairy on the tree, Lydia,’ said Ethel. ‘The job’s taken.’
Helen silenced her with a shake of the head. ‘Have you looked out of the window this morning, Lydia?’
‘No, why?’
‘Maybe you should.’
Lydia stalked to the window and peered out. ‘Gosh!’ she said.
‘Yes, gosh! I expect they’ll all be out there later, building a snowman and things. You’ll want to help, won’t you?’
◆◆◆
‘Hello, Aunty Ali,’ said Archie. ‘Merry Christmas.’
Alison, who was milking, looked up and smiled. ‘Merry Christmas, Archie. You’re bright and early.’
‘Not really, I’ve been up ages. I helped Aunty Rosie chuck the fodder in the cart and fill the mangers and then we fed the pigs. That’s how Grandma fell, isn’t it, filling the cart? It’s a long way down.’
‘Then be sure you don’t do the same. Has Father Christmas been? Or weren’t you good enough this year?’
‘Of course he’s been, Aunty; he always comes. Except I don’t believe in him anymore. I got a cowboy outfit, with pistols and proper holsters. Look, I’m wearing it.’
Alison raised her head from the cow’s flank. ‘Oh yes, so you are. I hope you’re not going to shoot me with those things.’
‘Only if you’re an outlaw.’ He bent to look at what she was doing. ‘Squirt, squirt, squirt. That’s a nice noise. Doesn’t it hurt the cow, tugging at it like that?’
‘No, they like it, they want to be milked or it gets uncomfortable for them.’
Archie wandered about the shadowy shed, gazing at the contentedly munching animals. ‘It’s quite clever really, isn’t it?’ he observed. ‘You put hay in at one end and milk comes out the other. You’re turning hay into milk. Do they go outside? I’ve got a model farm and the cows live outside. They eat grass, I think.’
‘So do ours when they can but it’s too cold and snowy for them now. They’ll have to stay indoors until it thaws and the grass starts to grow again. Right, that’s the last. Thank you, Buttercup.’
‘Is that her name? What are the others called?’
‘Cowslip, Clover, Dandelion, Daisy, Primrose and Violet.’
‘I like Dandelion best; it’s funny. What happens now?’
We cool the milk and put it in a churn and Mr Catchpole collects it on his lorry; except he probably won’t, with the snow so deep, so perhaps we’ll make butter; though we’ll need quite a lot of milk for ourselves, I expect.’
‘How do you make butter?’
Alison shook her head. ‘Too many questions. Go and get your breakfast.’
But when they emerged into the light, they found a man with Alf Brown’s team of Percherons, snow-ploughing the entrance track.
‘How sweet of him,’ said Alison. ‘I must go down and thank him.’
‘Couldn’t Parsnip have done it?’ said Archie
‘No, he’s too old and there’s only one of him. He’s just about retired really.’
◆◆◆
At eleven thirty, Alf and his betrothed arrived, again on horseback. ‘A snowman!’ cried Florence delightedly. ‘What will you do for a head?’
‘My assistants have it in hand,’ said Charles, leaning on his shovel. ‘I had to dig the cars out so I thought I might as well do something with the spoil.’
‘I helped,’ said Lydia.
‘Yes, Lydia helped. She’s a good digger.’
Archie and Ethel appeared from the yard, arduously rolling a large snowball. ‘I should think that’s big enough, wouldn’t you?’ said Ethel, easing her back. ‘I hope so anyway.’
‘Bordering on macrocephalous,’ agreed Charles.
‘What’s macrocephalous?’ said Archie.
‘Big headed,’ said Ethel, ‘like you.’
‘How will you get it up there?’ said Florence. ‘It must be seven feet tall.’
‘I should think we could do it between us,’ said Alf, helping her dismount.
‘Archie,’ commanded Charles, ‘Fetch a carrot.’
‘And two lumps of coal,’ said Ethel.
‘And some sort of hat,’ added Charles, ‘and an old scarf. You’d best go with him, Lydia.’
Lydia gave him a cross look. ‘But I want to help!’
‘You will be helping; you shall be our wardrobe mistress.’
‘Clever!’ said Ethel, sotto voce.
‘Give me a day or two,’ said Charles grimly, ‘and I’ll have her back in kindergarten.’
They all came out to view the masterpiece.
‘Not much like a Bartlett,’ said Walter critically. ‘Definitely a Falkner. Where did you get the titfer?’
‘Hall cupboard,’ said Rosie. ‘Been there years.’
‘Best thing for it,’ said her mother from the doorstep. ‘It was your father’s.’
‘Oh!’ said Rosie.
Florence turned to Ethel. ‘Can you show me somewhere to change?’
‘Yes, of course. Come up to my room.’
Walter had been leaning into his car, now fully excavated. ‘Drinky?’ he said, holding up a bottle.
‘Aha!’ said Alf.
‘We can’t drink in the house,’ said Harry. ‘She’d have a fit.’
‘That’s why I brought some glasses,’ said Walter. ‘In you hop.’
◆◆◆
‘This is the trouble with riding to places — having to change,’ said Florence. ‘A girl can’t sit around in a habit and breeches. Not if she’s dining anyway.’
‘You look very elegant, though, on an ’orse,’ said Ethel, ‘side saddle and everything.’
Florence smiled wryly. ‘Terribly “Lady of the Manor,” isn’t it? I prefer to ride side-saddle, it’s more comfortable, and Alf happened to have one. All the village women despise me for it; not that they don’t anyway. You can see it on their faces. It’ll be worse now that I’ve taken the eligible Mr Brown away from them. Is Charles your young man? You look very comfortable together.’ She looked startled. ‘Sorry, I’ve annoyed you.’
‘Not at all, you took me by surprise, that’s all. We’ve only known each other three days. I’ve rather fallen for him actually, so I wish he were my young man.’
‘From what I’ve seen he’s yours for the taking, and if he’s not, he’s a fool.’ She glanced conspiratorially towards the bedroom door. ‘Ethel, will you do something for me?’
◆◆◆
‘She thinks the village is against her,’ said Ethel, ‘which it might be, for a
ught I know. Apart from being extremely attractive, she’s rather outspoken, which might explain it. We had quite a chat. Would you believe she’s thirty-four? She looks much younger, doesn’t she? She says you’re mine for the taking.’ She paused, blushing. ‘I don’t know why I told you that.’
Charles, who had found it necessary to lean against the wall, nodded solemnly. ‘Then the lady is preternaturally perspicacious,’ he slurred. ‘Consider me yours; it’ll save time. What is your pleasure, madam?’
‘Do you mean — anything?’
‘Anything at all. I am putty in your hands.’
‘Well for a start you haven’t kissed me yet today. But first, ask me for a date for when we get home. Half a shandy at a respectable hostelry would serve. I’m easy to please.’
‘Is that all? I advise you to be bold. Try dinner and dancing. I know just the place. As for the kiss, I had best make an admission — I’ve the drink taken.’
‘I’d rather gathered that. Who has corrupted you?’
‘Three rough fellows lured me into the Daimler and obliged me to match them, glass for glass. Do I disgust you?’
‘No, I like the taste of whiskey.’
Alison entered the kitchen, grinning. ‘Those two are at it again!’
‘The way they’re going,’ said Beatrice sourly, ‘their lips’ll fray.’
‘Pshaw, I can top that,’ said Rosie. ‘It ought to interest you anyway, Bea. I was making beds just now and I saw Walter slip out of Ethel’s room, of all places. Furtive it was. Then Florence came out too. They didn’t see me because they went straight downstairs.’
‘Why should that interest me particularly?’
‘Think about it.’
◆◆◆
Ethel and Charles found the others in the parlour.
‘Not even table-wine, I’m afraid,’ Harry was saying. ‘This is a dry house, always has been. You can’t really blame her, given what she went through with my father. But of course, you knew him, Alf.’
‘I know his reputation,’ said Alf, who was sitting with Florence on the sofa, ‘but I was only about fifteen when he died. I didn’t take much notice at the time.’
Death Among the Kisses (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 10) Page 3