Trisha Ashley - The Magic of Christmas

It was late and bitterly cold when we went out, so most of us headed straight for home. Nick silently fell into step beside me, but instead of seeing me to my door he strode off at the turn from the drive up to the Hall with a brusque ‘Good night!’, leaving me to it.

Everyone goes to the Christmas Show, including Roly, Mimi and Juno. Even Nick came this year, but when Juno offered to change places so I could sit by him, I said quickly that I was quite happy next to Roly, and Nick glowered at me.

The evening followed its usual pattern: Ted the gardener gloomily produced rabbits out of a battered top hat and silk scarves out of the ears of members of the audience. He was followed by the infants singing carols, which always reduced most of the audience to tears, and Dave Naylor singing ‘ O Sole Mio ’, which didn’t.

The Senior Citizens’ Tea Dance Club’s display of salsa dancing was particularly memorable. Some of the others may have been more technically perfect, but the fire and liveliness of Mrs Gumball’s performance more than made up for any little mistakes.

On the Friday I went to Liverpool to fetch Jasper, dog and baggage home for the Christmas holidays, though I took a wrong turning and circled one of the two cathedrals twice, before charging off in what luckily turned out to be the right direction.

It was lovely to see him again, but Ginny was still about as attractive as a hairball, and gave an experimental nip or two at my ankles as I hugged Jasper.

His belongings seemed to have doubled since I left him there in October, and we had a job getting them into the Land Rover. I treated that like a sort of three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle, which is something most women are good at since life is a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle containing several trick two-sided pieces. (I’m sure Nick is one of those, from an entirely different puzzle.)

All the way home Jasper was silently texting messages on his phone and when I asked who to, he said his girlfriend! He didn’t expand on this interesting remark but I expect he’ll reveal all eventually.

The day after Jasper came home Nick slammed in through the kitchen door like a whirlwind and demanded, ‘Why didn’t you tell me Ophelia Locke was the ARG supporter who was targeting you — and at Polly Darke’s instigation?’

‘How did you find that out?’ I blurted, taken off guard.

‘Caz just told me, among several things he suddenly decided I ought to know — and I might have taken the other incidents more seriously if I’d known about it.’

Jasper, who’d been sitting at the table finishing off a late, late breakfast, looked up. ‘Ophelia was? What, with those animal rights people?’

‘You mean, you didn’t know about it either?’ Nick said in a quieter voice, seeming slightly mollified.

‘I didn’t tell him — or about the other incidents,’ I said, ‘because I didn’t want to worry him.’

‘Which other incidents?’ asked Jasper.

Nick gave him a quick résumé of what had been happening and then added, ‘ And there was a firework thrown at her at the bonfire, did she tell you about that?’

‘We don’t know that was Polly,’ I said, going pink as usual when anyone mentioned Bonfire Night.

‘Actually, we do, because Caz spotted her doing it.’

‘He did? Then why on earth didn’t he say so?’

‘You know how he feels about the police. It took him long enough to tell me.’

‘You won’t tell Unks about Ophelia being in ARG, will you?’ I asked anxiously. ‘Only they’ve thrown her out now, and since she and Caz are getting married it would be a pity to spoil everything.’

‘You are the strangest woman!’ Nick exclaimed, looking exasperated.

‘She certainly is,’ Jasper traitorously agreed. ‘Do you know, I found her crying over her postcard album when I came downstairs earlier and when I asked her why, she said there was something terribly sad about Crème de Coeur !’

Nick seemed strangely cheered by the thought of my misery. ‘She did? Well, well!’

‘Shouldn’t we do something about this woman, if she’s playing nasty tricks on Mum?’ suggested Jasper.

‘Something is going to be done,’ Nick assured him. ‘Leave it to me.’

‘Oh, right,’ Jasper said, looking relieved. ‘Well, come on, Ginny. Mum, can I borrow the car, if you don’t need it today?’

‘Why, where are you going?’ I asked automatically.

‘Meeting Stu and some other friends, and maybe going to see a film and have a pizza, but I won’t be late. And I won’t drink and drive,’ he added patiently.

I handed him the keys to the Land Rover. ‘Are you meeting your girlfriend?’

Jasper tapped the side of his nose infuriatingly, which was all the reply I got. Nick followed him out and I saw them talking together before I closed the door against the icy wind.

When I looked out again, the yard was deserted and the hens had retired to huddle somewhere warmer. The very last Honey, her thick brown feather bloomers blown up like an inside-out umbrella, was running up the ramp into the henhouse.

I scribbled a heartfelt ‘but thank goodness he pulled through!’ to end the paragraph, thinking how lovely it was to have him home again, even if he did seem to be out of the house most of the time. There was certainly nothing wrong with his appetite: food vanished from the fridge and cake tins overnight, and I was making mincemeat flapjacks on a daily basis.

His Christmas present wish list seemed to consist almost entirely of books and CDs, although I’d already collected a few bits and pieces, including a spectacular Swiss army knife with millions of gadgets, which I rather coveted myself. I was sure it would come in handy.

I had an awful lot of handwritten pages of notes for my next Chronicle and the Just Desserts book to type up, which would keep me occupied between all the Christmas stuff. But then, I’d already made the Christmas cake and pudding, and I didn’t need to think about Christmas dinner itself, because we always had it up at the Hall with the family. It will be yet another goose … but then, it usually was.

The first Mystery Play dress rehearsal (for which I wasn’t needed) took place up at the Hall, and apparently went quite well, with only one or two minor mishaps. Clive and Marian randomly mix up the various acts of the play for the two dress rehearsals because there’s a feeling that it would be unlucky to do the complete thing right through before the actual performance. I could only hope that the snow had thawed and it was not quite so bitterly cold when I came to rehearse in my Eve costume the following Tuesday.

While I was out on pet-sitting duty, Caz dropped a freshly cut Christmas tree off at the cottage, and by the time I returned Jasper had set it up in its stand in the sitting room and was opening the boxes of decorations we’d collected over the years, along with some old family ones I could remember my mother hanging up. Out came the fragile glass violins, trumpets and bells; the bright birds with purple and pink feather tails and the gaudy strings of slightly balding tinsel.