Chapter Thirty-Five
Christmas Morning. 7.15am
When I creep quietly downstairs to put the various meats in the oven, the kitchen is dark except for the twinkling blue and white fairy lights on the tree. And the reflection on some of the shiny presents piled under.
I’m guessing these are presents for the children. Damn!
Damn, damn, damn!
I never got them any presents. Okay, I had no money to spare even if I’d remembered. But I should have made something. Could I bake chocolate biscuits now? Quickly before anyone else wakes up?
Not really because the oven is already full. Two chickens, a leg of lamb (we’re in Wales after all) and a large goose, Gethin will be pleased. I never got cards for the adults, not even the Squad.
All I can do now is start breakfast. A special festive breakfast porridge with apple and honey.
Counting in my head, I circle round the tree to find extra spoons. That’s when I notice my name.
A gift tag on a wrapped present under the tree.
Noooo! Oh God no. I wasn’t expecting a present. Now it’ll look even worse that I didn’t get anyone anything.
It’s a large box, too. Whatever it is.
Wait a minute. There’s another with my name. And two more.
Down on my knees under the tree, I find eleven gifts with my name.
“You’re not supposed to start!” A childish voice says from behind me. It’s Henrietta running in. “No opening until after breakfast.”
She’s followed by a running Rhys and more slowly by Haneen pulling on a long cardigan and yawning.
“No, counting your presents either. Stay away from the tree.”
Then she sees me cross-legged on the floor. “You’re setting them a bad example.”
“I didn’t expect anyone to get presents for me,” I say.
“Yes,” Henrietta insists in that absolute conviction only children have. “Because it’s Christmas.”
It’s only then I realise she’s speaking to me. Finally!
“Good morning Henrietta,” I open my arms and she climbs into my lap and hugs me. “You are the best present in the world.” I hug her back.
Even Rhys joins in the hug.
“My word, aren’t you the popular one this morning?” Haneen says filling the kettle.
“I don’t know what I’ve done to earn this,” I say from behind four little arms snaking around my head and neck
“Don’t question it. Children respond to personality.”
I wrap an arm around Rhys too and feel a wave of love swelling my heart.
Leaving this house is going to be so difficult. It takes effort just to leave the floor under the tree and go to make breakfast.
Before long, the men start drifting in, some in pyjamas and dressing gowns still, yawning and looking for coffee. In addition to Wyn, Ricky, too, is staying overnight in Kendric House. Ricky is a challenging boy, always too many questions to everything you ask him to do. “Porridge?” he grumbles, looking at the bowls on the table. “Why can’t we have a proper fry-up breakfast?”
His complaints cut through my sad mood like a squeeze of lemon. Against my will, I feel my lips stretch in an indulgent smile. “Because I don’t have enough free pans for all that.”
“Do it all on one frying like my mum does.”
I have a soft spot for Ricky. He reminds me of myself in a strange way. Too much going on inside him but nowhere for it to go. One day he’ll be a trailblazer, but for now it come across as rebellion and failure to conform to the rules.
“I think what you’re trying to say is – I mimic his surly voice – “thank you Leonie for spending the last three days in the kitchen.”
Alex and the professor applaud.
“Make sure you eat a good breakfast,” I tell them as I set plates on the table. “The kitchen will soon be out of bounds until three this afternoon.”
For that reason, I’ve prepared a big breakfast. A breakfast to remember because it’ll be my last, here. In addition to the apple and honey porridge, I have bowls of berries, slices bananas and kiwi, yogurt, and a mountain of bacon, sandwiches.
“Leonie,” the professor calls. “Stop cooking and come sit down. You can afford half an hour to eat breakfast.”
No.
Actually it’s yes, but I’m deliberately keeping myself away from the table. Because all this lively family atmosphere is just going to highlight the fact it won’t be my family after today.
“I just need to make toast,” I say quickly.
“I’ll make the toast.” Haneen moves Henrietta off her lap.
“No, you won’t.” Evan lays a hand on her knee to stop her getting up. “We’ve agreed you're not allowed to cook over Christmas.” Then he looks across the table. “Ricky.” He indicates with his head that Ricky should be on toas detail.
“Isn’t it Wyn’s turn?” Ricky challenges.
“Wyn is going to be clearing the construction stuff to clear a path through the ballroom so our guests don’t trip over tools and coils of wire. If’ you’d rather do that, Wyn can operate the toaster.”
Evan has a great way of making Ricky obey without argument. The boy gets up, taking his porridge bowl with him towards the toaster.
So, I sit. The professor hands me a plate with a bacon sandwich, and Haneen fills a bowl with porridge and fruit and slides that over.
“Eat up,” Alex urges me. “We don’t want you fainting before you finish cooking.”
“Selfless, isn’t he?” Llewellyn throws a strawberry at him.
“No food fights.” Haneen quickly intervenes. “You’re the grown-ups. Set a good example, can’t you!”
We breakfast and joke and laugh until Haneen deems it time. “Okay I think the children have been patient enough. Present time?” she asks and signs at the same time.
Rhys and Henrietta don’t need telling twice and they jump off their chairs and run to the tree.
Embarrassment makes me squirm. “I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind to organise presents for everyone.”
“Are you insane?” Haneen asks from under the tree where she’s presiding over the present selection. “You’re the one who’s done the most for us this Christmas. We would have had a nice quiet day, instead you’ve instigated this extravaganza and turned the day on its head.”
“It’s not—”
“Shut up and enjoy it.” Alex lays a hand on my arm.
In the tsunami of wrapping paper and excited words form everyone, Rhys brings me a box wrapped in blue tissue paper. It’s an electric whisk from Llewellyn.
“That’s so lovely of you.” I hug him across the empty chair between us where Ricky had been sitting.
Ricky, Wyn, Meredith and Rhian have clubbed together and bought me more kitchen tools.
I feel terrible because, after today, when am I ever going to need kitchen tools?
Fortunately, Alex’s present is a framed photo of the Blue Lady, a figure that appears in several mosaics and stained-glass panels here. A nice memento to remind me of Kendric House.
The professor gives me a Welsh language phrase book.
Finally, Evan and Haneen hand me their present, a delicate silver filigree bracelet in an art nouveau style with a shining green gemstone in the centre.
“It is second-hand, I’m afraid.” Evan explains. “It belonged to my great, great grandmother. We found a lot of her clothes and jewellery upstairs in pristine condition. She used to be an actress.” Evan gives me a nice smile.
I’m so overwhelmed I don’t know what to say. It must be worth a small fortune. Wordlessly, I place it around my wrist but my eyes blur with tears so I can see the clasp properly.
“Here, let me help you.” The professor takes my wrist and fastens the bracelet around it.
I wipe my eyes. “Ok all of you,” I say through the lump in my throat. “Go and leave me and Meredith to finish cooking.”
Llewellyn gets up. “Is it too early for Kings College Choir?”
“As long it stars with The Bleak Midwinter . It’s fu—” he glances at the kids. “Freaking arctic outside, I think I just saw a flock of penguins go past the window.”
Haneen makes the kids collect the wrapping paper before she shepherds everyone out of the kitchen.
Evan is the last to leave, he comes over to stand beside me at the sink where I’m washing up. “Can I steal you at some point today, when you have a minute. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
I know what he wants to discuss, he has his business face on.
May as well get it out of the way. I turn off the tap and dry my hands on a tea towel. “How about now?”
He takes me out of the kitchen and through the ballroom. Wyn is busy shoving all building supplies against the walls to leave the centre of the room uncluttered. Alex strings hazard tape on both sides as if it’s a velvet rope marking a pathway through the ballroom. Rhian follows him with a handful of tinsel which she drapes over the piled-up tins of paint and coiled electric cables to make them more festive.
“Can we spread some of the evergreen branches on the floor here to make it look nice?” she asks Evan as we go past
“Don’t ask me,” he says continuing to walk towards the back of the house. “Alex is on the safety committee and Haneen and the kids are on the decoration committee.”
I try to supress a giggle. “Is everything in your family organised like a business?”
His dimples pop for a second. He doesn’t say anything but his eyes flash with joy.
How happy he seems.
“You’re very lucky to have such a wonderful family.” I can’t help saying. “They might not be your birth children, but you’re an incredible father.”
“It wasn’t easy to put us all together, let me tell you. We may not be the classic composition, but families come in all shapes. And yes I’m very lucky.” A slow smile breaks across his face, and the dimples flash again. “I say thank you, every day.”
He’s right. Who says there’s only one kind of family? I would have been happy with the professor and grandfather. Raff. Even Llewellyn and Alex and the teenagers would have made a nice extended family.
For a couple of weeks, at the start of December, it was just like that. And I’m grateful to have had a taste of that.
When we reach the end of the ballroom, Evan opens the doors into the orangery, and grins at me.
It is beautiful. The floorboards might be scuffed and faded, the wall in desperate need of fresh plaster. Even a few glass squares in the window are mended with gaffer tape. But there are bunches of holly and green wreathes everywhere. But the best is the view.
The temperatures have dipped very low the last couple of days, everything in the dead garden is white with frost. With broken branches sticking up in all directions, it looks like a massive sculpture.
“We didn’t get snow, but this is almost as good, isn’t it?” I say walking up to the windows.
They’ve set the trestle tables in a horseshow again so everyone will sit on the outside facing into the centre where the food is served.
“Where did the red table covers come from?”
“I’m not on the table committee, you need to ask someone else.” He pulls a chair at the end and invites me to sit. “We really should have coffee for this meeting.”
Supressing a sigh, I take the seat he’s offered me. “I know you want to speak to me about this,” I glance around the orangery. “The idea of opening a café.”
He starts to nod.
“I can’t do it. I simply don’t have the money.”
“Leonie, I know you don’t. but what if there was a way to help you with the start-up funds—”
“No.” I shake my head.
“The professor told me you need thirty thousand, but might be able to start smaller. So what if we were able to find you twenty—”
“No, Evan.” I have to interrupt him again before he starts painting a beautiful picture that breaks my heart. “Believe me I’d love nothing more. But.” I take in a deep breath, imagine a business woman, Deborah Meaden from Dragon’s Den , then I step into the character.
“It’s not just the start-up fund. It’s the business case. You understand business don’t you?”
He nods.
“There aren’t enough customers to make it a viable enterprise.” Yay, look at me using big commercial words. “One day, when this house is full and getting lots of tourists, maybe. But that’s not where we are now.”
He’s not stupid, he understands. Slowly his expression changes. “So what do you have in mind?”
He knows. But I say it anyway. “Tomorrow I will return to London. And sooner or later someone else will come along with a fabulous project for this room and it will be a success.”
“You know you can stay here as long as you want.”
“And do what? Even the Squad are going away, so I can’t even make cream teas for them. It’s okay,” I make myself smile, my best Cinderella-at-the-ball smile. “I have a film audition for the new James Bond Movie. It’s all very exciting.”