Susannah Constantine - After the Snow - A gorgeous Christmas story to curl up with this winter 2018!

Esme glanced at her mother. She was concentrating on her grapefruit, eyes downcast as she methodically put one segment after another into her mouth. Her spoon rose timidly before each bite, the juice making her cough. Sip of tea. Wipe of lips. Back to the slow process of eating.

‘Diana, can you pass the butter?’ her father asked.

Esme’s mother didn’t react and she knew her father was testing her to see if she would. Sophia looked at her sister and pursed her lips. In a protective reflex, Esme passed the pat of Anchor across the table.

Mrs Bee always said that her mother had her ‘head in the clouds’ when she wasn’t listening. It was like she was dreaming with her eyes open, her mind far away in another land.

‘Thank you, Esme,’ her father said, smearing a thick layer of butter on his toast, smartly topped with a big dollop of marmalade.

Esme watched as he took an enormous bite and looked over at his wife. She’d noticed him doing that a lot lately, even more so than usual. He often seemed worried about her but sometimes he seemed cross that she was so distant. He tried to make her happy by giving her the most beautiful things, even when it wasn’t a special occasion. Esme loved watching her mother open the old brown leather boxes with Phillips of Bond Street in gold writing embossed upon them. Mrs Bee always said that the best things came in small packages, but when bad days became bad weeks even these gifts didn’t pull Esme’s mother out of the grey mist in which she lost herself. Her father bought them to make her happy and when she wasn’t grateful Esme felt sorry for him and made up for her mother’s lack of interest by telling her what amazing taste her father had.

‘Mummy, you haven’t shown us your present from Daddy yet. What did he give you?’

Her parents always gave their presents to each other before breakfast.

Her mother blinked dramatically, as if she was shaking off a deep sleep. ‘Sorry, sweetheart?’

‘Your present – from Daddy. What did you get?’ Esme asked again, busily cutting her toast into soldiers.

‘Oh, my present. It’s a lovely brooch, darling.’

‘What’s it like?’

Her mother absently spooned up another grapefruit segment.

‘Mummy?’

‘Yes, darling.’

‘What’s the brooch like? Is it pretty?’

‘Well, yes, of course it is.’

‘May I see it?’

Her mother looked at her as if she was noticing her for the first time.

‘Darling, why have you got that silly tinsel on your head?’

Esme reached up and tugged at the halo in her hair. ‘Oh, nothing. I thought you’d like it.’

‘Esme, that’s enough talking,’ her father cut in. ‘Finish up your breakfast and run upstairs to collect your smart coat. We need to leave in a few minutes.’

Sophia rolled her eyes. ‘Who cares if we’re a few minutes late, Daddy? It’s only a bloody church service. Just because you want to get there before the Earl and Contessa.’

Her father never usually cared about being late. It was only when the Culcairn family were involved that he got grumpy about timekeeping. Esme thought it was strange because he didn’t seem to like the Earl, though her mother always came alive in his company. She often smiled at Lexi’s father, even if it wasn’t a good day.

‘Don’t swear about church, Sophia. If we are late, we won’t get our pew. Now get going, Esme. You will have to leave the rest of your breakfast.’

Her mother’s eyes didn’t flicker. She was the one who was going to make them late. She hadn’t even got her lipstick on and she never went anywhere without her lipstick and powder, even on bad days.

But at least she might liven up when she saw the Earl.

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