2
‘Oh Pixie, you are clever, they hadn’t gone very far at all.’ Bunny clapped her hands in delight. ‘Phina! Caspy! We’re coming to find you.’
I let out the breath I didn’t even realise I’d been holding. Not remotely clever, whatever Bunny said, but I wasn’t about to argue.
More giggles answered her singsong call, and we started up the little wooden staircase, finding the twins sitting on the small return, surrounded by a sea of colourful tin foil. Seraphina was the image of her mother, with her tumble of messy blonde hair, wide-eyed gaze and ready smile. Caspian was, I supposed, more like his father – Lando’s brother. He had brown hair, a sweet snub nose and a generous smattering of freckles. Both were liberally smeared in chocolate. Bunny let out a peal of laughter.
‘Oh, just look at the two of you. How did you find those tree decorations? I thought I’d hidden them brilliantly this year, but you’re too, too clever.’
Seraphina broke into a matching grin.
‘Mummy, you hid them in your wardrobe, of course we found them.’
‘Of course you did, my darling. Next year I’ll have to be even more cunning, won’t I?’
Seraphina jumped up to hug her mother, who grabbed her at arm’s length before the chocolate could be transferred from the sticky hands and face to her pristine knitwear.
‘Cuddles later, gorgeous girl, let’s get you both cleaned up first. Oh! And I must introduce you. This is Pixie – she’s come to help us out while we get everything ready for Christmas and I finish my work.’
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘It’s lovely to meet you both. Do you always have chocolate for lunch? Maybe I should try it?’
Seraphina giggled, but Caspian regarded me solemnly.
‘It’s not a good idea to have it for lunch every day, you know.’
I matched his seriousness and nodded.
‘No, you’re right. Perhaps I will save it for special occasions.’ I glanced at Bunny, unsure if I should take charge with her there. She smiled benevolently back at me and took another step away from her daughter’s sticky hands. I decided to risk it. ‘Come on, shall we tidy up these wrappers, then wash those mucky faces and hands?’
To my immense relief, no one seemed to mind my teacherly tones. We scooped up the foil and Bunny led the way downstairs and back along the corridor, through one of the doors, which led into a small, light-filled hallway. The carpet was a muted sage green and the walls painted in the palest yellow and crowded with framed vintage-style prints of the local area. A delicate console table stood against the wall bearing a huge arrangement of winter stems: spruce, bright red winterberries, eucalyptus and ivy. A glass door led out to the gardens and there was another staircase, which we went up. At the top, Bunny pushed open a door into a bathroom. As we started to usher the twins in, Caspian began crying. Uh oh. A sudden meltdown after a tummyful of chocolate means, in my experience, one thing. I felt a rush of panic as I tried to steer, rather than shove, the sobbing child into the bathroom.
‘Quickly, Caspian, quickly, in you go?—’
I was too late. He leant forward and vomited lavishly, all down himself and across that beautiful carpet. There was a moment’s silence, of respect, perhaps, for the expensive décor, which may never be the same again. Then the sobbing started in earnest. Caspian started and Seraphina soon joined in, wailing as if her heart was breaking. Bunny was at a loss, staring between the brown pool on the floor and her distraught children in horror and confusion. I did wonder if she might also begin crying.
‘Oh, Pixie! Oh God, what do we do, what do we do?’
For a moment I, too, felt completely overwhelmed. The chocolatey puke was gently soaking into the carpet and would be almost impossible to remove. I was used to scraping sick off the vinyl floor of the classroom, but this was completely different. I also feared it was only a matter of time before Caspian was sick again, or Seraphina started. Bunny looked horribly pale, and I wasn’t entirely confident that she wouldn’t join in – the smell can have that effect. Then I realised that they were all looking at me to sort things out, and I knew it was time to start doing the work I had been employed for or giving it my best shot at any rate.
‘Okay, nothing to worry about. Come on, into the bathroom, and let’s peel off these sicky things and get you both clean.’
The children allowed me to steer them into the bathroom, a stunning affair in cream marble with thick forest green towels, recessed lighting and the delicate scent of lily-of-the-valley in the air. Pulling the soft, heavy bathmat onto the floor, I jammed in the plug and started the water running. I spotted a bottle of something that was probably very expensive and wasted on four-year-olds, but grabbed it and dolloped in a generous measure, knowing the magical effect that bubbles can have. I hoped no one would mind too much. Bunny didn’t even seem to notice; she was still wringing her hands and patting the twins ineffectually as they cried, clearly worried about soiling her beautiful clothes. I didn’t hugely want to get vomit on my clothes either, but my drip-dry high street bargains had been bought with small children in mind, so now I held my breath, swiftly stripped each child, then plopped them into the steamy, bubbly water. The foam was extravagant, probably about thirty quid’s worth, and instantly they were enchanted. Within seconds, Seraphina had fashioned herself a frothy beard and was cackling with laughter at her reflection in the overflow cover and Caspian, whose colour had returned from a greenish grey to a healthier pinkish hue, was blowing holes in the foam to make skull faces. Bunny sank down onto the lid of the loo and looked rather pale herself.
‘Well done, Pixie darling, you are marvellously efficient, I’m so happy you’re here. But what about the carpet?’
‘Yes, the carpet doesn’t look good, does it? Would it be all right for you to stay with the twins while I try and sort it out?’
She nodded weakly.
‘Great. Where can I find some cleaning stuff?’
She gave me directions to the kitchen, and I set off, back down the stairs, round the corner, through a large but cosy living room and into the front hall of the house, which was galleried and wood-panelled, with the same lovely green carpet that seemed to flow through the whole house like a gentle brook. Other than the bit upstairs now, of course. I crossed the hall and pushed open a door at the back which led, as Bunny had said, into a large kitchen. It looked as if it had been recently kitted out at great expense, yet it retained a cosy, countryside feel as the heart of the home. A small woman with short, dark hair was standing by the Aga and turned as I came in.
‘Hello?’ she said in a heavy accent. ‘Who are you?’
For the second time that day, I identified myself rather breathlessly.
‘Hi, I’m Penny, I’ve come to help with the children? The thing is, Caspian has been dreadfully sick all over the carpet and it needs to be cleaned as soon as possible.’ I didn’t add that I felt I had no hope whatsoever of doing anything of the sort.
The woman sighed theatrically and started putting lids on pans and adjusting dials.
‘Vale, I suppose this can wait, but Bunny! Dios mío, always the help she needs so much. I am supposed only to cook, clean a little, you know, but every day something extra.’
‘Oh! No, no, I didn’t come to ask you to do it. If you would be kind enough to show me where a few things are, I’ll try to fix it.’
Hopefully.I dreaded to think what Lando would say if I couldn’t get the chocolate stains out of his immaculate carpet. He was obviously extremely houseproud, judging by the luxurious interior design, although looking at his messy studio, you would never have guessed it.
‘Muy bien, what do you need? Oh, and I am Pilar. I am very happy to meet you, Penny.’
She shook my hand firmly.
‘So am I. Er, I’m not really sure what I need. It’s mostly chocolate, you see, and on a pale carpet – oh God, it’s probably wool, isn’t it? I’ll never get it out.’
‘Penny, did you vomit on it yourself?’
I looked up at her in surprise.
‘No, of course not.’
‘Then do not worry so much. You will do your best, yes, and that will have to be good enough. Mrs Lord, she should not have left them stuffing themselves with so much chocolate. Come, let me find you some things.’
I staggered back through the house under the weight of buckets – one filled with hot water, one empty – a spatula, a fat roll of kitchen paper, washing-up liquid, vinegar, a giant tub of bicarb and a cordless stick vacuum cleaner. Mrs Mop, eat your heart out; I looked like some kind of crazy cleaning one-man-band. All I needed were some cymbals tied to my knees to complete the outfit. I reached the back hallway again and shuffled through awkwardly, sideways, trying not to splash water or knock over the flower arrangement with the hoover when the back door opened and in walked Lando. He regarded me with a mix of curiosity, irritation and maybe, just maybe, a smidgen of humour on his handsome face.
‘What on earth is going on? Where are you going with all those things?’
What did he think I was doing, robbing the place? I gathered as much dignity as I could muster.
‘There has been a slight…incident with the twins. Everyone’s fine, but I need to clean up.’
‘At least you found them. Was there much blood?’
I smiled hesitantly. ‘No blood at all. That must be considered a win?’
‘With those two, definitely. Dare I ask what happened?’
‘I think it’s best you don’t. I’ll do my best to rescue your beautiful carpet, though.’
He shrugged.
‘It’s only carpet. Don’t worry too much, as long as the children are okay. See you later then.’
He strode off through the house, and I wasted no more time in clanking up the stairs to start scraping up the sick. Once I had got the worst of it into the empty bucket and dumped on plenty of bicarb, I put my head around the bathroom door to see how the party was going in there. It sounded riotous from outside the door and, indeed, proved to be so inside. The scented foam was now spread around much of the bathroom and the twins had started remodelling their hair into rather limp spikes. Bunny had sunk her head into her hands, but looked up when I came in.
‘Oh, Pixie, there you are. How are you getting on?’
‘All right, I think. Pilar was wonderful, she helped me find everything I need.’
‘Pilar did?’
‘Yes, she was really kind.’
‘Darling, how on earth do you do it? I find Pilar absolutely terrifying. I barely dare ask her for the time, let alone anything else. She fixes me with such a stare and I simply quail. I’m sure the bulls never stood a chance.’
‘Bulls?’
‘Oh yes, she’s Spanish.’
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this; did Bunny think there were enormous bulls roaming the streets of Spain, which needed to be regularly quelled by the residents? Or maybe Pilar had an exciting past as a matador? Today, nothing would surprise me. I might have asked more, but Bunny looked too drawn and tired to be questioned about such things, so I returned to the landing to inspect my soggy efforts. I was about to wield the spatula when Pilar arrived.
‘How are you doing? Is it coming off?’
‘Phase one has been successful, and I’m about to start removing the bicarb. It doesn’t look as bad as it did, so I’m hopeful.’
‘Can I help?’
I lowered my voice.
‘Not with this, but if you’ve got a few moments, Bunny looks exhausted. Maybe you could sit with Phina and Caspy while I carry on out here? I won’t be much longer.’
‘Sí.’
She went into the bathroom and, within seconds, Bunny had emerged, smiled gratefully and disappeared for a lie-down. The squawks of excitement from the twins stopped abruptly and, peeping in, I could see them being removed from the bath and wrapped in towels. For all Pilar’s sternness, she was smiling, and gave each child a hug as she dried them off.
‘Bien, now run to your room and find your pyjamas. I am following you.’
They scampered past me shouting, ‘Look at us, Pixie, we’re naked!’ as I sponged a mixture of detergent and vinegar into the stain. Pilar followed at a more stately pace.
‘Thank you so much,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t be much longer here and then I’ll come and take over.’
‘Ningún problema. We will be in the kitchen having tea.’
It was there that I found them twenty minutes later, glued to Paw Patrol on a tablet propped up against a jar of jam and eating baked potatoes and beans. It never fails to amaze me how quickly children recover; I wouldn’t be gobbling down supper so soon after being violently sick. They looked adorable in their pyjamas: Phina’s were orange and scattered with glow-in-the-dark insect pictures and Caspy’s green with various hedgehogs and squirrels gambolling across them. I put down my cleaning paraphernalia and went to give them both a squeeze around the shoulders.
‘Are you feeling better, Caspian?’
‘Yes thanks, much.’ He paused. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Of course you can.’
‘Is your name really Pixie?’
Seraphina looked at him in disgust.
‘Of course it is, that’s what she said, isn’t it? I think it’s a lovely name, I wish I was called Pixie. Or Robert,’ she added contemplatively.
I was distracted.
‘Robert? Why Robert?’
‘It’s the postman’s name,’ explained Caspian, as Phina was now transfixed by the cartoon again. ‘He’s one of her favourite people.’
‘Oh, right. Actually, my name isn’t really Pixie, although that is what some people call me.’ Well, it was true as of today, anyway. ‘My name’s Penelope, or Penny, so you can call me that if you prefer?’
Caspian nodded solemnly. ‘I do like Penny.’
He resumed his potato. I was just going to put the kettle on when the doorbell rang.
‘I’ll go,’ I said to Pilar, who was elbow-deep in the sink.
I opened the door rather apprehensively, as the possibilities of who might turn up on the Lords’ doorstep felt infinite but was delighted to see that it was the courier I had arranged before I arrived. She handed me a large box that I knew to be filled with all manner of Christmassy craft materials, games and little toys that would keep the children busy until the New Year. I signed on the dotted line and staggered back to the kitchen with it.
‘Ooh, Pixie, what is it?’ squealed Seraphina. ‘Is it presents?’
I grinned.
‘Of a sort, I suppose, but nothing that I’m opening tonight.’ They both groaned theatrically, and I relented. ‘Okay then, and only because it’s nearly Christmas…’ I peeled the box open, being careful not to let them peek inside, and pulled out a clockwork Santa and snowman. ‘You can race these guys up and down the table, but you have to keep munching. Deal?’
They agreed enthusiastically and with them happy and occupied, I went over to Pilar, who was alternately studying a recipe and gathering together the ingredients.
‘Can I help?’
‘Claro qué sí. You are okay to chop?’
I nodded and she pushed a bunch of carrots, a board, peeler and a wicked-looking knife towards me. I started my task and glanced over towards her. The recipe was stuck into an old exercise book, fat with clippings and covered in scribbled notes.
‘Is that recipes you’ve collected?’
‘Yes, and it was my mother’s also. My best recipes are saved here, and some in my head.’
‘You should write them all down. Do you have children who might want them?’
‘Ah, yes. My daughter, Marisol, is waiting for me to die so that she gets this book.’
She cackled with laughter, clearly not planning to pass it on any time soon.
‘My parents are awful cooks, that’s why I had to learn, otherwise I would have starved – or lived on toast. I’d love to learn some of your recipes, my stuff is all fairly basic.’
‘Basic is good, it is your ingredients that matter.’
We chatted for a while about food and Spanish cuisine, about which I knew very little, then the conversation took a more personal turn.
‘So, tell me, Penélope…’
I loved the way she pronounced it, with the emphasis on the middle ‘e’ and wondered if I should start telling people that this was my name: not Penny, or Pen, not even Pixie.
‘Do you have a boyfriend?’
I quickly peeled an onion, hoping that I would be able to blame it for the annoying tears that had sprung to my eyes.
‘Erm, no, no, I don’t. Not anymore.’
‘There was someone?’
I hacked into the innocent onion. ‘Yes, until quite recently. Timothy.’
‘He left you?’
I was taken aback by her directness but didn’t want to be rude. ‘Yes, that’s right. We had been together ten years.’
I could hear the edge of bitterness in my voice and hoped that Pilar had not.
‘You are angry with him. Yes. Did he go to another woman?’
‘No, I don’t think so. He just didn’t want to be with me anymore. If you don’t mind, Pilar, I’d rather not get into it.’
She shrugged.
‘Is okay. Don’t worry about it, Penélope. He wasn’t for you. You will be fine, you will find love.’
A tear, not onion-induced, dripped down my cheek.
‘No. I’m getting too old, my time is running out. I have to find something else to do with my life.’
‘Nonsense! You are still young enough. Well, only just, but don’t give up yet. In a year or two, maybe.’
Her honesty pulled me out of my self-pity, and I managed a smile. ‘We’ll see.’
‘Is true. You’re quite pretty, not too thin, you’re kind and helpful. Maybe you are also intelligent?’
I half nodded and half shrugged, hoping this appraisal was reaching an end.
‘You are also a girl with a very good soul, that I can tell.’
I brightened.
‘So, this is what matters. Your soul is ageless, not like your face. Yours is good and it will stay good. You’ll find someone.’ She calmly tipped my onions into the pot. ‘Todo a su tiempo, mi hija. All in good time.’
I would have reached out to hug her, so grateful was I for her calm wisdom, when a movement outside the window caught my eye.
‘What was that?’
‘I didn’t see anything…’
‘A man just ran past, but he was only half dressed, I’m sure of it.’
A crash outside in the hall sent us both dashing out, past the tired twins who were still posting beans in their mouths and captivated by their cartoon puppies, the clockwork toys forgotten. A man stood at the bottom of the stairs. At my best guess he was in his seventies, and he was gathering together a collection of umbrellas and sticks that had fallen from a large brass urn he must have knocked over. But the most striking thing about him was that he was only wearing a Father Christmas hat, a vest and a pair of boxer shorts, festooned with cheerful, red-nosed reindeer in a variety of gymnastic poses. He looked up guiltily as we skidded to a halt.
‘Se?or Lord, what are you doing?’
A chill ran through me at the tone of Pilar’s voice, and I began to see what Bunny had meant.
‘Oh, good evening, ladies.’ He turned to me. ‘I don’t think we’ve met. I’m William – Lando’s father. Terribly sorry for my state of déshabillé, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.’
I grinned.
‘I’m sure. I’m Penny, I’ve come to help Bunny out over the holidays.’
‘Delighted, delighted.’
He shook my hand firmly and smiled back. I could see how dashing he must have been as a younger man – well, he was still pretty dashing now actually, with his warm brown eyes and ready smile. It was easy to see where Lando had got his stunning looks.
‘Se?or Lord, you cannot stand around here chit-chatting in your underwear.’
A giggle came from behind us, and we turned to see Seraphina and Caspian standing in the doorway of the kitchen, clutching each other in glee at the sight of their grandfather in his pants.
‘Oh yes, rather, very sorry, I’ll go and put something on and be right down.’
He scuttled off upstairs, and we returned to the kitchen to find the twins some pudding. He came back a few minutes later wearing a ludicrous turquoise silk dressing gown with black piping, in which he looked absolutely marvellous, and carrying some soggy bundled up clothes.
‘My sincere apologies to both of you. Penny, I hope you won’t let that dreadful first impression colour your opinion of me going forward.’
‘Er, no, not at all. Quite all right.’
Every first impression so far in this house had made me wonder if I’d be better off safely back in London, but William’s state of undress was on the lower end on the alarming scale. At least – I assumed – I wasn’t here to look after him as well.
‘You’re very kind. If you will allow me to explain. Once the Christmas grotto closed for the day – I work as Father Christmas at the department store – the elves and I decided to have a few refreshments. It can be quite a long and tiring day even for the jolliest of us. I mean, the children are mostly adorable, of course, and so excited, but…’
‘I quite understand,’ I said with sympathy in my voice. ‘I’m a primary school teacher.’
A smile of relief broke across his worried face.
‘Oh yes, you will understand, perfectly. It’s the questions, Penny, endless questions. Some little tinker asked me today what we do when a reindeer dies, and no amount of demurring on my part would put him off. In the end, I found an emergency candy cane which bought me sufficient time to say my bit, produce a present and shove him back in the direction of his doting mother. Anyway, so we were having a drink, just to relax the nerves, and unfortunately Snowflake, one of the elves – she’s actually called Deirdre and is married to a bank manager,’ he added sotto voce, with a quick glance in the twins’ direction. ‘Snowflake knocked her second bottle of red wine all over my outfit. We tried to rinse it out immediately, but then of course I couldn’t put it on again. I got a lift home and thought I might make it upstairs without being seen, but alas, you heard my clumsy crashing and here we are.’
I almost gave him a round of applause for this wonderful speech but was too busy mulling over the fact that he felt he should conceal Snowflake’s true identity from the twins but not her drinking habits. I had a lot to learn about the Lord family.
‘Okay, Se?or Lord, give me those wet things, they drip on the floor.’
‘Dear Pilar, are you sure? I can wash them…’
He trailed off pathetically, a master of his art.
‘Give them to me.’
She snatched the bundle and bore it off to the washing machine, grumbling the whole time but clearly as happy as a clam. William beamed at me.
‘Order is restored. Now, Penny, why don’t you get those two off to bed and we’ll open some more wine, and you can tell me all about yourself and how you came to be spending Christmas with us?’
As I steered the twins upstairs, grabbing my bags on the way, which were still sitting forlornly outside the front door, I thought that this Christmas was going to be anything but sensible. What remained to be seen was whether or not that was a good thing.
*