A Proper Family Christmas (17 page)

There was only one person in the kitchen - a stranger, but he appeared to be making himself quite at home. He had already found William's frying pan, and was getting eggs and bacon out of the fridge.

“Aha,” said Kath, making him jump, “you must be Mrs. Watlington's journalist!”

“Oh - er - yes. …Oliver Leafield.” He came over to shake hands. “And you must be Mr. Shirburn's housekeeper.”

Kath nodded her acceptance of the title - better than ‘char', which she'd heard herself referred to as by Lesley. …Nice manners, one had to give him that.

“So how is Mrs. Watlington?” she asked, when she'd given him her name. “Got down here all right, I take it?”

“Yes, thank you. She's fine.”

He would have gone back to his cooking, but Kath decided she could prod a bit more.

“What do you make of her then? Get on with her okay, do you?”

He looked a little taken aback, but then replied warmly. “Yes, I think she's charming.”

“Well that's a turn up! Some of us reckon she can be a bit starchy.”

“
Starchy
? Hilary Watlington?”

“Oh lord, not her! I was talking about the old lady.”

He flushed. “…Oh yes, of course you were. Well I like Margery very much too.”

This interesting line of conversation was interrupted by the entrance of William, who greeted her in his normal affectionate manner.

“You here? I would have thought there were enough people in the house to make my life a misery.”

“Well, that's the thanks I get for coming in to work on my holiday!” Kath rolled her eyes at Oliver.

“Any proper mother would be at home, looking after her children.”

“So I should be. God knows what those kids'll be up to with me away! …But how would you manage, may I ask, with all your family staying and no help in the house?”

They could have happily carried on like this all morning, but the door opened, bringing a surprise for Kath.

“Hul-
lo
! …It's young Daniel, isn't it? Well, I never!”

Daniel grinned. “Hello, Mrs. A. How are you?”

She looked him up and down, delighted with what she saw. Who would have thought the gangly teenager could have turned into such a hunk?

“Haven't
you
grown up well! …And the image of your father, bless him. Come and give me a kiss.”

“Pah!” exclaimed William, as Daniel obeyed her. “A boy hardly older than your two! - Cradle-snatching, I call it.”

“Who's for bacon?” Oliver stood with spatula poised.

“If you know how to cook it,” said William, looking dubiously at the dry pan. “You need plenty of fat in there.”

“…Not if you get it really hot to start with.” Daniel went over to advise.

“I could use the grill, if you prefer.”

“Blimey! A load of men, and you reckon to know all about it,” exclaimed Kath, but realising the next step in this argument, picked up a duster and quickly made herself scarce.

“Lesley, I'm sure Scratch didn't mean any harm,” said Hilary, trying to keep her irritation at bay. “Cats like sleeping with people, - it keeps them warm. Can't you think of him as an extra cuddly toy?”

They were on the landing now, Frances shivering in her dressing-gown, the children still bemused, Stephen trying not to yawn, Lesley red-faced and breathing sharply.

“Tobias's toys are made under hygienic conditions, and
washable
when they get dirty. You can't possibly compare them to a filthy creature like that,” she pointed to Scratch, who now that the screaming had stopped, had come out to join them, “which has never been washed in its life, as far as I know!”

Inevitably, Scratch stretched out a leg, and began to wash himself all over with some care.

Hilary bit back a smile. “Well, no one's been hurt, and it's rather chilly on the landing. Wouldn't it be sensible to get everyone dressed, and go and find some breakfast?”

“Yes, nanny, I don't know why we're all standing out here!” Lesley decided to transfer the blame to Frances. “Tobias'll catch his death. Can you put some clothes on him, please? And I still don't understand what the children were doing asleep in the same bed…”

Hilary had rather hoped to be first downstairs, though she knew William was an early riser. She wanted to get a cup of tea and sort her head out quietly, before she was required to play her part in the tumult of the household. What she hadn't expected was to find the two people foremost in her bewildered thoughts sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast together. …For a moment she almost drew back.

But they both looked up and smiled to see her.

“Hey, Mum, come and have some eggs and bacon. This guy's not a bad cook, - even if he isn't quite up to Uncle William's exacting standards!” He shot Oliver a grin, suggesting a shared joke. …Sharing jokes already. That was a good thing, wasn't it? Why did she find it somehow disconcerting?

Oliver had picked up a plate and gone across to the stove, ready to serve her. He turned and raised his eyebrows, - nothing more, but for that second her heart lurched. Not a good thing! She tried to greet him in a natural way, and the words wouldn't come out. …A very bad thing. She glanced anxiously at Daniel, but thank heaven he didn't seem to have noticed.

“I'm not that hungry really,” she managed to stammer at last. “I'll just get a piece of toast.”

“Here you are, I've done some.” Oliver foiled her plan to hide over by the grill, by handing her a neat rack of uniformly golden slices.

“Just as well,” Daniel chuckled. “Mum always burns it.”

“I do
not
!” She sounded like an aggrieved child, but it annoyed her that he was giving Oliver the idea she was incompetent.

Daniel made as if to duck, with a grin at Oliver that made her really want to hit him.

“I'll have you know that I had a lot of compliments on my cooking last night!” Oh dear, - defensive, not attractive.

“Yes, Mum, that was a really good cheesy potato pie.” …And gave her son the opportunity to patronise her.

“It was indeed.” No better coming from Oliver.

“And as for those profiterole thingies!” Daniel rolled his eyes. “It truly worries me

that I nearly arrived too late and missed them.”

“Well they're not hard to make.”

“If you gave Mum the recipe, we'd be forever in your debt.”

…No, she wasn't going to point out that Daniel was old enough now to make his own profiteroles, that there might be a bit more to her life than supplying her son's domestic needs.

“Better still, I'll give her a tutorial.” Oh dear, he mustn't look at her like that, though! Not with Daniel there. She busied herself with the toast, trying to think of some normal topic of conversation, - something to suggest the totally neutral relationship between herself and a man she'd met for the first time only yesterday.

“So, what's everyone going to do this morning?” Good. That sounded suitably impersonal.

“I rather think I might check up on little Cousin Tobias,” said Daniel, with a twinkle. “ - Make sure he's being looked after properly, you know?”

“She's called Frances,” Hilary told him. “But don't get her into trouble with Lesley. There's already been a bit of a do upstairs.”

“…And you're going to show me round the house.”

“Oh my God, - I'd completely forgotten!” Hilary looked at Oliver in consternation. That had been last night, - but things had changed.

“Well, if you'd rather not…”

“Rather not what?” asked Margery, entering in time to catch this interchange, and helping herself to some toast.

“Hilary said she'd give me a guided tour of Haseley this morning, but needless to say she doesn't have to…”

“No, of course she doesn't! William can do that, - it's his house, after all. Hilary would much rather go on a jaunt somewhere. …What about that bird place at Slimbridge? We'll get Stephen to take us. Your car's too small, Daniel, and Leo's such a God awful driver.” Margery munched her toast, at her happiest making plans.

Shelley had slept through the whole thing. She didn't wake even when Frances, after suffering a most unjust lecture on the ‘impropriety' of having permitted the two little cousins to share a bed, came back and hastily put some clothes on.

But Frances was blowed if she was going to undertake the task of getting Posy ready as well as Tobias. Shelley could darn well do her job, and when there was still no sign of movement, she went over and shook her shoulder. “Come on, Shelley, time to get up.”

“Shurrup. Sod off. Wazzamatter?”

“Everyone else is awake. Lesley found the cat on the kids' bed, and had hysterics. …Come on! She's on the warpath now. I've got to take Tobias down, and you need to sort out Posy.”

“Oh bleedin' hell! Leave me alone, can't you?”

In fact Frances found that Posy had dressed herself, and Stephen and Lesley were just emerging from their bedroom, so it was a party of four that escorted Tobias down to his breakfast.

They made a bit of a jam in the doorway. Frances, peering past Stephen's arm, saw that there seemed to be several people in the kitchen already. Were any of them…? Yes, he was there! - sitting beside his mother at the table, with scary Mrs. Watlington.

“We've finished the bacon, I'm afraid,” Oliver Leafield was saying, “but I can do some more eggs, and there's plenty of fried bread in the pan.”

“Oh, yes, - splendid!” Stephen stepped forward eagerly, just as Lesley was saying “Oh no, I don't think so!” She put a protective arm round her son, as if to defend him from evil. “We don't allow Tobias to eat fried food.”

“Well he's not the only pebble on the beach!” said Margery Watlington tartly. “Stephen's never been a fussy eater, - or wasn't till you came along. And your nanny could clearly do with a proper breakfast, judging by the size of her!”

Everybody turned to look at Frances, who felt her cheeks flame red.

“Oh hello! I didn't see you there.”

She couldn't even return Daniel's friendly greeting. What did that terrifying old lady have against her? This was the second time she had made her want to die!

Posy spotted a favourite cousin and ran forward to greet him, drawing the eyes with her, to Frances's great relief.

“Hello, Madam!” Daniel hugged her in return. “You've grown a bit since I last saw you.”

“Yes, I'm grown up now.” She pressed herself against him, batting her eyelashes, - an eight-year-old siren. Frances happened to catch Margery's expression of extreme distaste.

“Now, Nanny, where's Tobias's muesli? Is that skimmed milk?” Lesley declared herself in charge. “…Oh dear, there's not much room at the table, is there?”

Hilary and Oliver took the hint and began to clear their plates away. Daniel gently detached himself from Posy and stood up to help. His grandmother stayed in her seat.

“I can't think where Tobias's box can have gone,” Stephen was saying. “I remember bringing it in last night.”

“Well we must find it!” Lesley's voice rose. “It's got all his food in, - and his special plate and mug.”

Margery gave a disgusted exclamation. “William's china not good enough? It should be. He's still using the stuff we were brought up with, - been in the family for God knows how long.”

“Oh, - I
thought
it looked interesting!” Oliver pounced on one of the plates and turned it over.

“For heavens sake!” exclaimed Lesley. She pulled out a chair and lifted Tobias onto it. “I don't know what you're going to eat, darling. This isn't even wholemeal bread!” She glared at the remains of the toast.

But Frances, scanning the room, believed she'd noticed something on top of one of the cupboards. “Isn't that the box up there?”

“Oh yes! What on earth's it doing there? I believe your father must have hidden it deliberately, Stephen. …Er, thank you.” Oliver was tall enough to reach and had handed it down.

“You're not giving the child that parrot food?” Margery wrinkled her nose, as she watched a helping of Tobias's special organic muesli from the health food shop being poured into his special bowl with rabbits on. “Good God, if I'd put that sort of muck in front of Ben and Leo when they were little…”

“If we've finished our breakfast, perhaps we'd better leave them to get on with theirs,” said Hilary, smiling at her mother-in-law and indicating the door.

“Oh, - yes, you'll want to put some glad rags on, I dare say,” said Margery, although Hilary looked nice already, and it was she who was still clad in an old dressing-gown. “…And Oliver you must find where William's hidden himself, and remind him he's got guests to entertain.” She chivvied them out in front of her, like a dog with a couple of recalcitrant sheep.

“Haven't you finished as well?” Lesley asked Daniel.

“Actually, I thought I'd have another bit of toast.”

He sat down, grinned at Frances, and began to spread a piece with butter and marmalade. To her surprise, he passed it to her. She took it gratefully. Lesley's veto on fried food was taken to apply to all of them, though Frances suspected Stephen would have broken it if he'd known what to do with a frying pan, and no alternative had been offered. Lesley as usual was only concerned with Tobias, and they were now both occupied in trying to persuade him to eat his cereal. Posy, having been told to wait till her nanny came down for her breakfast, had got bored and was wandering about the kitchen poking into things.

“I never got a chance to thank you properly, - Frances, isn't it?” said Daniel. “I'd have been waiting out there all night, if you hadn't spotted me. Once Leo's into one of his rants, he wouldn't notice if there was a horde of pillaging Vikings outside!”