Trisha Ashley - The Magic of Christmas

‘She’s just being friendly,’ he said fondly, bending down and giving her a pat. ‘By the way, Unks rang and told me about the nativity at the Nativity — sorry I missed it!’

‘Just don’t expect a repeat performance on Boxing Day,’ I warned him. ‘I think we’d all better stick to the script from now on.’

Word had it that Ophelia discharged herself from hospital almost as soon as she had been checked over, but the Naylor clan were rallying round.

I spent the next couple of days doing Christmas baking, including the fine ham that Roly had sent down for me (he does this every year), and making a big trifle and a Middlemoss Marchpane.

I put the recipe for the latter, with one or two small adjustments, into Just Desserts . I was going to save it to take up to the Hall with us on Christmas Eve, for we always went to listen to the carol singers, whose first call it traditionally always was. But then Jasper’s friend Stu came over to stay the night and they demolished it, so I had to set to and make another.

I drove up to the Hall, since as well as the Marchpane I had my contribution to tomorrow’s Christmas dinner with me: a vat of mulligatawny soup and the giant round Christmas pudding. There was also a box of presents to put under the tree, most of them home-made and edible.

We’ve always had Christmas dinner up at the Hall: Mrs Gumball would go in early to cook breakfast and put the goose into the oven, then I would finish the cooking and serve it. But this year Nick was here, so apart from my soup and pudding contributions (and some brandy butter ice cream I’d got from Faye), he was doing it solo. He’d have to, because after my previous experience as chef’s skivvy, I’d no intention of ever letting myself in for that again.

In fact, I was now trying to avoid him altogether, since every time I looked at him a nasty picture of his and Polly’s heads, flirtatiously close together, slid into my mind. I might have agreed with Jasper that it was all just a cunning ploy to get information out of her, but I wasn’t a hundred per cent convinced …

Joining in with the carol singers round a roaring fire up at the Hall always seemed a significant moment and by the time they’d all trooped off again, full of sherry and mince pies, I felt as full of anticipation as a child.

Back home once more, we had our usual Christmas Eve supper of thick slices of the Christmas ham with egg and chips, followed by first go at the big sherry trifle I’d made. Then we watched an old film in the sitting room on Jasper’s little TV, which he’d brought back with him, along with all his other stuff. He’d fixed the kitchen one, too, by the simple expedient of changing the plug.

Jasper’s stocking, which had been knitted for him by Annie when he was a toddler, hung next to Ginny’s at one end of the mantelpiece. Mother Claus would fill it and hook it over the handle of his bedroom door later, as she always did … and I suspect she’d better hang Ginny’s there too, or there would be trouble.

There was quite a heap of gifts under our tree. I couldn’t resist fingering the ones from the family we had brought back with us, but of course I couldn’t open them until next day, or it would spoil the surprise …

We had an orgy of unwrapping next morning while Ginny chewed noisily on a rawhide version of a candy cane and, although I’m sure we both thought of Tom while dividing up the presents into two piles, rather than three, neither of us mentioned his name. He’d hardly been around much for the last four or five years anyway, spending as little time in our company as possible, so the spirit of Christmas past didn’t really haunt us, even if we were briefly saddened by the ghost of what might have been.

Jasper gave me a pen, the kind with liquid inside that you tilted so an Egyptian sarcophagus lid slid open to reveal a mummy’s mask. There was a mummy-shaped biscuit tin too, so he’d obviously found a good museum shop somewhere. I had soaps, bath oils and gardener’s handcream from Mimi and Juno, an antique-looking ring from Roly — and a new postcard album, bound in soft blue leather, from Nick. He must have noticed my old one was full up to overflowing … and he must also intend sending me a lot more, too, so I expected I was right about him soon tiring of staying in one place and he’d soon be off on his travels again.

Jasper retired to his room, wearing the long Dr Who scarf Annie had knitted for him, to have a private conversation on his mobile phone with his girlfriend — about whom I still know practically nothing, except that her name is Kelly — while I tidied up the discarded wrapping paper and ribbons.

Then I put on my new slinky green dress (why should all the honours go to Polly?) and we went up to the Hall for Christmas dinner.

Annie and Gareth had been invited too, and it all felt a bit like déjà vu after the photoshoot one, except we actually got to eat the food, and Lionel Cripchet didn’t burst in and start going on about squirrels. And Jasper was there too … and Ginny, who was sick behind the door from Mimi feeding her too many titbits, so that was different from last time.

I was wearing the old and valuable-looking ring that had been Unks’ gift to me, but with the large, oval emerald turned inwards so it didn’t catch the light. I felt increasingly sure it was a family heirloom, in which case I really had no right to it. So, as soon as I got the chance for a quiet word, while we were going into the drawing room for coffee, I asked him if he was sure I should have it.

‘Yes, my dear, it’s quite fitting,’ he assured me. ‘Don’t you like it? Would you have preferred a modern one?’

‘Oh, no, I love it! Only I’m sure I’ve seen it in one of the portraits in the gallery, so it must be a family piece.’

‘It’s the betroth—’ began Mimi, who’d caught up with us, spotting it for the first time, but a glance from Unks silenced her and she wandered off again with a giggle.

‘I want you to have it,’ Roly said firmly. ‘Humour an old man, m’dear?’

I thanked him, but thought that the first opportunity I got I’d check out the portraits in the gallery and see if I could spot it, because if I was right, Nick might not be so happy about having part of his inheritance given away. Meanwhile, I’d have to remember not to wear it when gardening, or it would go the way of my wedding ring, back into the earth, never to be seen again.

They say the sun shines on the godly, and certainly just as I arrived there on the morning of the Mystery Play with Jasper a weak, golden light began to spread over the courtyard of Pharamond Hall.

The farmers had cleared the local roads of the last fall of snow and, though icy in places, they were passable with care. In any case, many of the audience preferred to walk there.

The Mosses Women’s Institute was setting up the refreshment stand near the kitchen door (the money raised goes to local charities), and I handed over my contribution of ginger parkin, fruitcake and bags of vanilla candyfloss. I managed to restrain myself from suggesting they make themselves Santa beards out of it, because this is quite a serious occasion, really.