Chapter Twenty-One
CHAPTER
TWENTY - ONE
Violet’s alarm clock woke her at seven the following morning. For a moment she forgot it was Christmas Day and she lay with her eyes shut, enjoying the feeling of being home. Then she looked across and saw Jenny’s bed was empty. Hurriedly, she threw back the covers, got out of bed and went to the bathroom.
In the kitchen, Kiki had filled the refrigerator with everything Violet needed to cook a hearty breakfast. She already had a pan full of sausages and another full of bacon sizzling away by the time Henry came in.
Violet instantly blushed. ‘Phew! This is hot work!’ she said, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.
‘I’ve come to help,’ said Henry. ‘What can I do? And Happy Christmas, by the way.’
‘Happy Christmas to you too,’ said Violet, wondering for the first time what in her suitcase full of undedicated presents she could give him. Nothing was suitable, she decided. She would steal a nice bottle of something from her father’s cellar and replace it later. He could have warned her Henry was coming, after all.
‘When do you think we’ll open presents?’ asked Henry, who was now slicing bread ready for toast.
‘I imagine after lunch, but Kiki might have other ideas. Do you think we can have breakfast in the kitchen? It would be so much easier.’
‘I don’t see why not. The kitchen table is huge and it’s warm in here.’
‘Kiki has managed to clear the table properly,’ said Violet. ‘All my life we’ve just had two-thirds of it. The remaining bit was taken up by a lazy Susan and all sorts of nonsense.’
Henry had found the kitchen knives and forks and was putting them round the table when Kiki came in. She was fully dressed in a smart skirt and jacket. Her hair was freshly curled and she wore lipstick.
‘Oh,’ she said, looking around her. ‘I think we should have breakfast in the dining room.’
‘But, Kiki,’ said Henry, handing her a mug of tea from a pot Violet hadn’t noticed him making. ‘It’s so cosy in here.’
‘And it’s easier to serve everything hot if I only have to get it from the pan to the plate and serve it,’ said Violet.
Kiki suddenly looked stricken. ‘I knew the pie was cold! I was mortified!’
‘It really wasn’t your fault,’ said Violet immediately. ‘People took so long to sit down. And it was still absolutely delicious.’
‘And no one wants to burn their mouth on fish pie,’ said Henry seriously.
Violet suddenly wanted to laugh. She knew she mustn’t. It would cause huge offence but suddenly the thought of a fish pie being too hot seemed incredibly funny, although she knew it wasn’t. And yet her nervous laughter kept trying to bubble up. ‘Do you want to stuff the turkey?’ she said. She could hear laughter in her voice and disguised it with a cough.
‘No. The turkey’s in the oven,’ Kiki said. ‘It has been in for an hour and will be fine while I’m at church. But if I am delayed, it will need to come out at twelve and rest for a while.’
‘You might need to rest too,’ said Henry. His voice sounded a little strange and Violet wondered if he was also stifling a fit of the giggles.
Just then, Jenny and Aubrey came into the kitchen at the same time. Jenny looked quite hot.
‘I got up early to go for a nice walk,’ she said quickly. ‘I met Aubrey when I was very nearly home.’
‘I was on the same errand. I wanted to take the dogs. We met in the wood,’ said Aubrey.
As the wood wasn’t terribly near home, Violet wondered if they perhaps hadn’t worked out a proper cover story for why they were together. But she didn’t think Kiki would notice the flaw in their tale.
‘Where are the dogs now?’ Violet asked.
‘Back in the stable. When they’ve had time to dry off, maybe you could bring them in?’ said Aubrey, looking at a space halfway between Violet and Kiki. He seemed to want Violet to do the bringing in but was nearly asking permission from Kiki.
‘Of course,’ said Violet and turned to her sausages. She was sure both her father and Jenny were looking guilty, and she hoped Kiki wouldn’t come to the same conclusion.
She felt strangely protective of this woman with whom she had nothing in common. Had her father encouraged her advances because of her excellent cooking? She’d never seen him show any interest in a woman since her mother died. But now Jenny was home from France, maybe he would cast off Kiki in favour of Jenny. Would that be fair?
Breakfast was very jolly. Henry took responsibility for hot drinks and toast while Violet cooked. Jenny offered to help wash up but Violet didn’t feel quite ready for the heart-to-heart that would inevitably occur. Over the years they’d shared so much over cooling dishwater and damp tea towels.
In theory, she was delighted that her old friend might have fallen for her father, but she needed time to get used to the idea. She was wary that Jenny might ask her questions too. Besides, Jenny didn’t yet know Henry was her new boss, and Violet wanted her to remain in the dark until she’d worked out her feelings about that, too.
One of Kiki’s sisters ended up helping with the washing up. ‘I’ve wrapped all my presents and I’m ready for church,’ she said proudly, drying a plate that could have dried itself in the long wooden dishrack. ‘The moment Lord Marchfont says it’s time to go, I’ll run out.’
‘I haven’t wrapped my presents, but I’ll do it in between basting the turkey,’ said Violet.
Kiki appeared, wearing a fur hat, gloves, a muff and a precarious veil.
‘Time for church, Josephine,’ she said. ‘It won’t do to keep Lord Marchfont waiting.’
It seemed to take some time to round everyone up, but at last Violet was alone with the turkey and her thoughts. As the turkey didn’t need her attention just then, she went out to the stables to let the dogs into the house.
Jenny met her in the hall while she was trying to coax the dogs on to the sofa which was there for their use.
‘Oh, Jenny! Could you bear to take the hounds with you on the walk? I know they’ve had a bit of exercise already, but if they are really worn out they’ll sleep here all day. No one could object to them being inside if they did that.’
‘It’s your home, Violet. If you want the dogs inside, it’s your decision!’
‘Well, it would be lovely if you’d take them.’
Henry came down the stairs at this moment, wearing some sort of many-pocketed jacket possibly suitable for skiing. ‘Are you walking too?’ Jenny said.
‘If I was basting the turkey, I wouldn’t bother with such a warm coat,’ he said.
‘You could wear it later if the fires go out,’ said Violet. ‘This is not usually a warm house. Although it is a lot warmer since Kiki has been here.’
‘I’ll make up all the fires before the walk. So, are we taking the brutes?’
The brutes, possibly recognising this epithet, wagged their tales wildly and went over to express their happiness to be with Henry.
Some part of Violet gave him a good mark. If he loved dogs, he couldn’t be too bad.
Having waved off all the walkers, Violet went upstairs to wrap presents. They were not inspiring. They were mostly Waverley Notelets (so handy for writing thank-you letters later), bath salts and boxes of chocolates. They didn’t take long to wrap and soon she was back downstairs.
She moved between kitchen and dining room, preparing vegetables, grating bread for sauce and finding an ancient jar of cranberry sauce which came out every year whether anyone ate it or not. She put off basting the turkey. It was so heavy and opening the oven door would reduce the temperature, so she concentrated on polishing the knives and forks and putting them round the table.
She then found the kitchen scissors and went outside to pick holly from the bush that always generously supplied berries. It would cheer up the dining room, which was quite dreary as well as being in desperate need of redecoration.
She was just putting the finishing touches to the candelabra when Henry came in, which surprised Violet as the group had only left for their walk a short while ago.
‘Any heavy lifting required?’ Henry asked.
Violet laughed, partly from nerves and partly because she was pleased to see him. ‘I confess I haven’t basted the turkey yet, so you could get that out of the oven for me. It’s huge! I was surprised it fitted, to be honest.’
Henry nodded. ‘I’ll just take my coat off and join you in the kitchen.’
‘Did you abandon the walk?’ she asked as she ladled turkey juices back over the bird.
‘One of the group was anxious about the dogs, so I brought them home. They’re drying off in the stable. I’ll bring them in later.’ He paused. ‘I also thought you might need a bit of moral support. Or a glass of sherry. Or both.’
‘That would be nice. I’d suggest you make your punch but I don’t think we’ve got any more lemons – or even if we have, it’s probably better that I’m not comatose when everyone gets back from church.’
He found the bottle of sherry that was always kept in the kitchen, nominally for cooking with but actually for the cook, and poured her a wine glass full before pouring a smaller glass for himself.
‘That will knock me over,’ said Violet, taking a large sip. ‘Happy Christmas!’
‘And to you, my dear,’ said Henry, raising his glass. He looked at Violet as if he didn’t want to look away. Then he coughed and put his glass down.
Violet suddenly felt herself short of breath. She drank some more sherry and turned to the range.
‘We’ve done the turkey. Kiki didn’t say anything about parboiling the potatoes, but I think I should. It may be difficult to get them crisp later as the oven will have lost a lot of its heat.’
‘Why don’t I stoke the Aga for you?’
Violet had lived with that Aga all her life, but suddenly found she’d forgotten all its little foibles and tricky ways. Would stoking it be a good thing or not? She didn’t care. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly.
Again, her father’s good wine made sure the Christmas lunch went well. The turkey was fine but the potatoes were a little pale and there wasn’t enough gravy. The sprouts were overcooked (in Violet’s opinion) and the carrots lacked taste. But no one seemed to mind, although Violet couldn’t help wondering what Henry must think of it all.
At last, it was time to file into the drawing room to open presents. Violet wished she could just have cleared up the meal and done the washing up but knew she had to support her father and Kiki.
Everyone started to hand around their presents when Violet’s father suddenly rushed from the room and came back with something wrapped in a piece of reused paper. He gave it to Jenny. ‘Sorry, it’s not much of a present, just an old thing.’
Violet’s heart went out to Jenny, who she knew didn’t like being the centre of attention. Jenny slowly unwrapped the parcel. Inside was a little brooch. Violet recognised it immediately: it had been her mother’s. Jenny took one look at her friend and their eyes met. Violet saw shock, apology, and a plea for approval. Violet smiled encouragingly. She didn’t dare see how Kiki reacted to this intimate gift.
‘It’s lovely,’ Jenny mumbled, looking down. ‘Thank you so much.’
‘But, Aubrey, surely your late wife’s jewellery should go to Violet?’ said Kiki sharply.
‘It’s fine. My mother was very fond of Jenny,’ said Violet firmly. ‘Now I’m going to put the kettle on. I happen to know that Kiki has made some delicious mince pies.’
‘And a Christmas cake,’ added Kiki.
‘I’ll help you with the cups and things,’ said Henry and together they left the room.
‘Is everything all right?’ Henry asked immediately.
‘It is for me!’ said Violet. ‘But poor Kiki! What is my father thinking?’
‘He’s not thinking,’ said Henry. ‘He seems to have fallen in love with Jenny.’
Violet pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, knowing there were a hundred other things she should be doing. ‘I think he’s loved her for a long time. And she him. I’ve only just noticed. I’m happy for them, really I am. But he has to treat Kiki properly. I wonder what he gave her for Christmas? Did we see her open anything?’
‘I don’t think so. What did he give you?’
‘A cheque. He’s not good at presents usually, but I happen to know that the brooch has “Thee I choose” engraved on it. I just hope Kiki didn’t see that.’
Henry filled the kettle. Violet realised he was now as at home in the kitchen as she was.
Aubrey was letting a spaniel who had got separated from the pack into the kitchen when Violet confronted him.
‘Daddy!’ she said firmly. ‘What did you give Kiki for Christmas and was it a nice present?’
‘It was. A vanity case from Harrods. She chose it herself. It’s very well fitted out. I gave it to her this morning. She’s delighted.’
Violet examined her father. Was he looking guilty? Not really. But she had only asked about the present and he’d obviously given Kiki what she wanted. ‘You should go back to your guests,’ she said.
‘I only got up to let Dilly in,’ her father said, somewhat indignant. ‘I heard her scratching at the door.’
‘I’ll be in with the tea as soon as I can.’
‘You know there’s a brand-new electric kettle? I last saw it in the pantry,’ he said.
Violet stepped back into the kitchen relieved and somewhat encouraged.
Henry had filled the big square sink with hot water and made a start on the washing up.
‘You shouldn’t be doing that!’ said Violet. ‘Leave it. I’ll make tea and you can take it through.’
‘I’m happy to take the tea through, but you’re not doing all this on your own. Why don’t we make a start, then have tea, and come back when everyone is happy playing charades?’
Violet sighed. ‘All right. At least I’ve found out Daddy gave Kiki a decent present.’
‘You’re looking worried, Violet,’ said Henry. ‘You’re not responsible for everyone’s happiness, you know.’
‘Aren’t I?’
‘No,’ Henry said firmly. ‘Everyone here is an adult. You’re being a brilliant hostess, helping Kiki as much as you can. But you can only do what you can do, which isn’t everything.’
He looked down at her seriously and she looked back. His eyes were light green with freckles of brown. His lashes were long and straight and matched his light brown, floppy hair. Was he good-looking? she asked herself. She realised she couldn’t tell. She only knew that her breathing had suddenly become a bit faster.
The mince pies and Christmas cake were eaten, or rather, turned into piles of dried fruit. Kiki had dozed off on one of the sofas by the fire. Her father was showing Jenny a book and, in spite of what Henry had said about her not being responsible, Violet knew she had to do something. She was also aware of all the dirty dishes in the dining room.
She drew a breath and tried to look bright. ‘Anyone fancy a game of charades? Or perhaps a board game?’
No one seemed able to respond. Either they had eaten too much or the thought of any kind of game filled them with ennui. Violet deeply sympathised and wished she could dispatch everyone to their rooms so they could have the naps they were struggling not to have now.
‘Or what about a carol?’ said Henry, crossing the room to where the grand piano stood. ‘There’s lots of music here.’ He indicated the piles of sheet music on the top.
He sat down and played an arpeggio. ‘Oh good, the piano is in tune,’ he said. ‘What would we like?’
‘My favourite is “In the Bleak Midwinter”,’ said one of Kiki’s sisters.
‘Mine too!’ said Violet. ‘Although I can never do it justice if I try to sing it.’
‘What about something from one of these song books?’ said Henry, turning the pages. ‘Something rousing? Or soothing?’
‘Something we know,’ said Jenny, getting up and going to the piano. ‘I’ve a very soft spot for “On the Road to Mandalay”.’ She put the music down in front of Henry who obligingly played a chord.
It wasn’t long before Violet felt able to slip away. She did enjoy a sing-song when in the right mood, but now she felt she had too much to do. After all the cooking she’d done, Kiki couldn’t be allowed to lift a finger, and before Violet left the room, she noticed she was still asleep.
Violet had brought all the plates through from the dining room and was filling the sink with water yet again when she heard someone come in. As she could still hear the piano tinkling away, she was surprised when she realised it was Henry.
‘One of Kiki’s sisters has turned out to be a very good and enthusiastic pianist,’ he said. ‘She runs a small choir at home and is getting people to sing in parts.’
‘Goodness me! Are they happy about that?’
‘Not that it’s really your business’ – he smiled – ‘as I said before, but they are thoroughly enjoying themselves.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it.’
‘Jenny was joining in and your father has, according to the choir mistress, a very pleasant tenor voice.’
Violet laughed. ‘Good for him! Is Kiki enjoying it?’
‘I think she is. She’s worried about people needing another meal. She’s going to come and make turkey sandwiches in a minute.’
‘I saw a baked ham and a huge pork pie. As well as a trifle, sausage rolls, and a whole Stilton. Enough to feed an army as long as it was very small and not very hungry,’ said Violet. ‘But quite a lot for a house party.’
‘She does like to feed people, which is a good thing,’ said Henry.
‘And there’s Boxing Day to get through.’
‘Talking of which,’ Henry went on. ‘I have to go back to London tomorrow afternoon. Would you and Jenny like a lift?’
She thought how crowded the train had been and the possibility of it being the same on the way home, full of people returning from their country Christmases. But then she thought of the potential awkwardness. Jenny might want to talk about her relationship with her father, and while Violet wouldn’t ask, she badly wanted to know how things were between them. It was very tricky.
‘I’ll consult Jenny,’ Violet said. ‘And the elephant in the room—’
‘If there’s an elephant in the room, we should get it out,’ said Henry. ‘Considering Kiki won’t even let your charming dogs in the house!’
Violet smiled, more out of nerves than because she thought his joke was funny. ‘I’m just worried …’
‘About what?’
Violet considered how to explain. They had spent Christmas together in quite an intimate way. How would it be when they were in the shop together and he was acting as her boss? Would it be awkward? It might be, especially if he gave her and Jenny a lift home. She sighed; she’d refuse the lift and risk the train. She’d tell Jenny tonight.
‘Violet,’ he said when she didn’t reply. ‘I promise it won’t be embarrassing, us working together. We can pretend we’ve never met before, if that would make it easier.’
‘It might,’ she said. ‘And I need to talk to Jenny about your kind offer of a lift—’
‘Why don’t you go and find Jenny and see what she thinks? Not if she’s in the middle of “Roll out the Barrel”, of course, but it would be helpful to you to know.’
He had a way of making her feel better about things. Finding Jenny and talking to her was the sensible thing to do.
She left him up to his elbows in the sink. He was singing ‘Roll out the Barrel’ now, having put the thought into his own head.