Chapter Eighteen
Selina had given Mrs Hawley a few days off over Christmas to spend with her own family, and so found herself helping Nancy prepare the large Christmas lunch.
The two women worked side by side to produce an excellent meal.
The main event was a real turkey – at last, after years of making do with meat substitutes – served along with fresh, albeit mushy, vegetables dug out of the snow from their own garden, and a vast jug of delicious gravy.
At least, William pronounced their efforts to be ‘excellent’, pushing aside his plate afterwards with a contented sigh.
Selina had rather daringly asked the solicitor to join her and the children for Christmas lunch, half expecting him to refuse.
But he’d accepted with pleasure, and indeed she was very glad now.
It was a joy to have an intelligent, personable man about the house at Christmas.
They had Peter, of course. But at fourteen he was still a boy, and his conversation was hardly in the same league as Mr MacGregor’s, especially in his current surly state.
Having a male guest had also given her an excuse to bring up an expensive bottle of champagne from her sister’s cellar for the occasion. It would have been a waste to open a bottle just for herself, as Nancy was not drinking alcohol and Peter disliked wine.
‘Yes, excellent,’ William repeated, and leant back in his chair to smile down the table at Selina.
Behind him, the fragrant Christmas tree glittered with wreaths of tinsel and bright, tiny ornaments, the snowy lawns outside the window creating a perfect festive backdrop.
‘Thank you for inviting me to share Christmas with you and your charming family, Miss Tiptree.’
Finishing her own meal, she shook her head at his formality.
‘I told you, you should call me Selina,’ she insisted, and saw Nancy look down with a secret smile, while Peter glanced wonderingly at them both.
Embarrassed, she got up, plate in hand. ‘Christmas pudding, anyone? Our marvellous Mrs Hawley made it weeks ago with the help of Jemima and Faith, so it should be ripe for eating now. Just don’t swallow the sixpence! ’
Peter said nothing, playing with his cutlery in a despondent way.
‘I’ll help you with the pudding,’ Jemima declared, and jumped up happily to collect the plates.
Nancy turned to help Faith with her party hat, which had slipped over one eye, and Selina threw William a meaningful look, glancing towards Peter.
It had been at the back of her mind that he might be able to speak to the boy during this visit, and now was as good a time as any.
‘I say, Peter,’ William remarked, touching his linen napkin to his lips, ‘I seem to recall you were interested in learning how to drive a car, is that right?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Since your aunt’s going to be busy in the kitchen for a spell, how about you and I nip out to my Wolseley for a quick first lesson?
’ When Peter sat up, surprised, he added swiftly, ‘I’m not saying you can drive her, of course.
But we can turn the engine over, and I’ll show you what the pedals are for and even how to change gear, if there’s time. What do you say?’
Peter brightened. ‘I’d like that, sir.’
Selina took her time in the kitchen, wanting to give William a lengthy opportunity to speak to her nephew. Eventually, though, there were no more plates to scrape and wash, and the pudding had been thoroughly steamed and was ready to be doused with brandy and set alight.
Having recalled everyone to the dining room, she carried in the Christmas pudding, brandy flaming fiercely atop, and everyone cheered and applauded.
‘I’ll tell Mrs Hawley how much you appreciated the spectacle,’ she told them, placing the pudding in the centre of the table, its dark gleaming dome still licked with a ribbon of flame.
Faith, her eyes wide with astonishment, asked if the Christmas pudding was ‘perfickly’ safe to eat.
‘Of course,’ Selina told her fondly. ‘And don’t worry about the brandy … It will have burned away by now.’
‘More’s the pity,’ William murmured, and everyone laughed.
After lunch, they played a noisy, energetic game of charades around the table, reminiscent of her days at Postbridge Farm. At last, the game over, Selina rose to put on the light, as the room was growing gloomy and the fire in the hearth had burned low.
‘Oh, fiddle!’ she exclaimed, flicking the light switch back and forth without response. ‘Not another power cut? What a nuisance. I’d better fetch some candles.’
‘Let me help,’ William said at once, waving Nancy to stay seated. ‘No, please, I insist.’ And he followed Selina out to the kitchen.
‘What did Peter say?’ Selina asked eagerly as soon as they were alone.
‘I couldn’t get the boy to talk to me,’ William admitted heavily. ‘As soon as I asked why he was looking so glum, he clammed up, wouldn’t say a blasted word.’ He grimaced. ‘I’m sorry.’
Disappointed, she rummaged for three fresh candles in the cupboard. ‘Never mind. Perhaps I could—’
‘Selina,’ he interrupted her huskily, and she turned to find William close, his gaze intent on her face.
‘Yes?’ At the look in his eyes, her voice died away and she stood very still, gazing back at him with her heart thumping.
Too much champagne, she thought dizzily.
‘Merry Christmas.’ William brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek, leaning forward, and she guessed he was planning to kiss her.
But the moment was swept away as Faith lurched into the room, holding up her empty pudding bowl and asking if she could stand on a chair and wash it up for herself. ‘Pwease,’ she added conscientiously.
Jerked out of the spell, Selina took the bowl from her niece and shook her head.
‘N-not today, dearest,’ she stammered and led the little girl back to the dining room, carefully not looking at William.
There, she dispelled the gloom by lighting the fresh candles with a book of matches she now kept permanently in her pocket, blackouts becoming more frequent by the day.
‘Ah now,’ she said with a laugh, ‘isn’t that festive? Let’s just hope the electricity comes back on before bedtime, else we’ll be going to bed by candlelight too.’
Having returned to his place at the head of the table, William sat down and poured himself another drink without looking at her.
Flustered, Selina watched him secretly, wondering what the man was thinking and whether he would indeed have kissed her, given the chance.
To her relief, Nancy didn’t seem to have noticed that anything was amiss, too busy asking Faith not to keep blowing the shrill tin whistle she’d found inside her Christmas cracker along with a party hat and joke.
Fortunately, Faith was soon distracted by the substitute of a Scotty dog brooch, while Nancy surreptitiously pocketed the whistle.
‘Aunt Selly, why do the lights keep going out?’ Jemima demanded.
Peter told his sister authoritatively, ‘Because the power stations that supply the electricity haven’t got enough coal to go round, silly.’
‘But why not?’
Peter floundered at this, glancing instinctively to William for guidance. It was a look that gave Selina hope he might yet open up to the older man over whatever was troubling him.
‘Because the Coal Board is in chaos,’ William explained, ‘and severely underfunded by the government. The war’s left this country in a terrible mess, I’m afraid, and it’s likely to get worse before it gets better.
’ Seeing the children’s unhappy expressions, he said bracingly, ‘But never mind … It will all be sorted out in time. Meanwhile, we’ll just have to get used to doing everything by candlelight again, like they did in the last century.
Now, look what I’ve found …’ He reached for the final cracker from the box, still lying unpulled on the table.
‘Who fancies pulling this last Christmas cracker with me? Peter? Jemima?’ He smiled at Selina. ‘Or maybe the head chef herself?’
Selina blushed at that look, shaking her head. ‘The children …’ she murmured.
‘Me, me!’ Jemima cried, and pulled the cracker with him, laughing gleefully as it banged.
By the time William eventually left, it was pitch-black and chilly outside, and the electricity still wasn’t back on.
Shyly, Selina stood on the step to wave him off, torch in hand. ‘Thank you for coming.’
‘Thank you for inviting me.’ He studied her face, his expression turning serious as he added, ‘I meant to say earlier, I haven’t heard anything on the Bodmin grapevine about Nancy and her unfortunate condition.’
She was surprised. ‘You think Helen and Cameron Bourne are keeping it to themselves?’
‘For now, perhaps.’
‘Perhaps I should walk over and see them tomorrow,’ she mused. ‘Maybe take Helen some Christmas cake as an excuse.’
He hesitated. ‘Look, I’m aware that you and Cameron have become good friends since Bella passed away. But I should probably warn you—’
‘It’s all right,’ she interrupted. ‘I know what kind of man he is.’
William looked taken aback, but nodded. ‘Well, thank you again for a wonderful Christmas Day. The children are delightful, aren’t they?’ He turned his coat collar up against the cold. ‘I’m only sorry I couldn’t get Peter to tell me what’s wrong.’
Selina was just closing the front door when the electricity came back on, followed by a faint cheer from Nancy and the children, whom she’d left playing a game by candlelight in the sitting room.
‘Better late than never,’ she muttered.
Frankly, she didn’t want to see either of the Bournes again.
Her sister’s journals had described how each of the Bournes had betrayed her trust in their own way, and it was hard not to feel contempt for the brother and sister.
But she also didn’t want to see her innocent nephew and nieces the focal point of local gossip through no fault of their own, which must happen if their nanny’s condition was more widely known.