Trisha Ashley: Twelve Days of Christmas

‘Laura, you can’t say I’m beautiful! I mean, apart from being the size of a maypole, I’ve got a big, beaky nose.’

‘You’re striking, and your nose isn’t beaky, it’s only got the tiniest hint of a curve in it,’ she said loyally. ‘Sam’s right, you do look like that bust of Nefertiti you see in photographs. . though your hair is a bit more Cleopatra.’

I was flattered but unconvinced. Gran’s skin had been peaches and cream and mine was heading towards a warm olive so that I look Mediterranean apart from my light eyes. Gran’s mother’s family came from Liverpool originally, so I daresay I have some foreign sailor in my ancestry to thank for my colouring — and maybe my height, which has been the bane of my existence.

‘I quite liked Sam, because at least he didn’t talk to my boobs, like a lot of men do,’ I conceded and then immediately regretted it, because she said eagerly, ‘So you will come to us, if only for Christmas dinner? I promise not to push you together, but it would give you a chance to get to know him a bit and—’

My phone emitted a strangled snatch of Mozart and I grabbed it. Saved by the muzak.

I hoped the call wasn’t the man from Chris’s Clearance saying he’d decided against collecting Gran’s fairly worthless sticks of furniture and bric-a-brac, but no, it was Ellen from the Homebodies agency.

‘Holly, you know I said there was nothing else on the books over Christmas?’ she said in her slightly harsh voice, without any preamble. Ellen doesn’t do polite, except to the customers. ‘Well, now something’s come up and I’m going to ask you to do it for me as a big, big favour!’

‘A favour?’ My spirits lifted. ‘You mean a house-sitting big favour?’

Laura caught my eye and grimaced, shaking her head and mouthing, ‘Don’t you dare!’

‘Yes, a major crisis has just blown up,’ Ellen explained. ‘You remember Mo and Jim Chirk?’

‘You’ve mentioned them several times, but I haven’t met them. They’re one of your longest-serving and most dependable house-sitting couples, aren’t they?’

‘They were ,’ she said darkly. ‘And they were supposed to be house-sitting up on the East Lancashire moors over Christmas — they’d been two or three times and the owner asked for them again — but no sooner had they got there than their daughter had her baby prematurely and they’re flying out to Dubai to be with her.’

‘You mean, they’ve already gone ?’

‘They’re on their way home to repack and get their passports, then they’re booked onto the first flight out. They phoned me just before they left — and so they should, too, because they’ve dropped me right in it!’

‘It doesn’t sound as if they could help it, Ellen — it’s just one of those things. I hope the baby is all right.’

‘Which baby?’

‘Their daughter’s baby.’

‘I have no idea,’ she said dismissively, which wasn’t any surprise, since where business is concerned she’s totally single-minded.

‘Look, could you help me out by taking the job on? It should be two people really, because it’s a large manor house in its own grounds, and a bit remote and there are a couple of pets to look after, too. Only there’s no-one else free on the books apart from you. Could you possibly go? Tomorrow? I’ll make sure you get double pay,’ she wheedled.

‘If there are pets, who’s looking after them at the moment?’

‘The owner’s elderly aunt and uncle live in the lodge and say they will keep an eye on things until you get there, but I don’t think they can really be up to it, or presumably Mr Martland wouldn’t have needed Homebodies in the first place.’

‘ Martland? ’ I interrupted.

‘Yes, Jude Martland. Have you heard of him? He’s quite a well-known sculptor — he did the Iron Horse next to the motorway near Manchester, all welded strips of metal — very modern.’

‘Oh yes, I think I have. But actually, I heard that surname recently in another context and it’s unusual, that’s why I was surprised.’

‘Just a coincidence, then — truth is stranger than fiction,’ she said, disinterestedly rustling some papers.

‘That’s true,’ I agreed, and of course these Martlands could have no relationship to the Ned Martland Gran had mentioned (assuming I’d even heard the name right): she was a working-class girl and wouldn’t have mixed in the same circles as minor gentry from moorland manor houses.

‘Anyway, he inherited the pile, which is called Old Place, about a year ago and he’s abroad somewhere, but so far we haven’t managed to get hold of him to tell him what’s happening. He isn’t coming back until Twelfth Night.’

I’d turned away from Laura’s disappointed face, though I could feel her eyes boring accusingly into my back. I was starting to suspect she’d hastily invited her cousin Sam for Christmas as soon as I’d told her my Christmas job had fallen through — the idea had probably never crossed her mind until then.

‘It doesn’t sound too arduous,’ I said to Ellen. ‘I’ve looked after quite big houses before single-handedly. What are the pets you mentioned?’

‘One dog and. . a horse.’

‘ A horse ? You call a horse a pet ? Ellen, I don’t do horses!’

‘It’s very elderly and you do know a bit about horses, because you went to that riding school with Laura, remember.’

‘I only watched her, that hardly qualifies me to look after someone’s horse, does it?’

‘I expect you picked up more information than you think you did. Mo said she was very easy to look after and all the instructions were written down.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘I expect the elderly couple in the lodge can advise you if there’s any difficulty. And there’s a cleaner and a small village nearby with a shop, so it isn’t totally isolated. What do you say?’

‘Well. . I suppose I could. But I’m a bit worried about the horse. I—’

‘Oh, that’s wonderful !’ she broke in quickly. ‘I’m sure the horse won’t be a problem, it’s probably in a field and you only have to look at it once a day, or something. And the good news is, Mo and Jim felt so awful at landing the job on someone else at such short notice that they left all their supplies for Christmas behind for whoever took it on. Though actually, I suppose they could hardly take a turkey and all the trimmings out to Dubai with them!’

‘No, but it was a kind thought. Where exactly is this place, did you say?’

‘I didn’t, but I’ll email you directions and all the details now. It’s a bit off the beaten track, but you usually like that.’

‘Yes, especially over Christmas. That aspect of it is perfect.’

‘I don’t know what you’ll do up there, because apparently the TV reception is lousy and there’s no broadband.’

‘I’ll be fine — I’ll take my radio and lots of books.’

Clicking off the connection, I turned to find Laura looking at me reproachfully. ‘Oh, Holly, it would have been such fun to have you here for Christmas!’