Part 14 (1/2)

'I'll look through our mail later,' Noel said.

'There's already a whole stack for Jude. It's piled on that table in the front hallway,' I told him.

'I'll bring it all in later and sort it out,' he promised. 'A lot of it is probably junk.'

We dumped the bags in the room that had been a.s.signed to Becca and then Noel checked again on Tilda, who was fast asleep, before we carried on up past the nursery.

Jess gave the attic door a good shove and it opened reluctantly with a protesting screech.

'Jude ought to get that fixed, it's always sticking,' Noel said, pressing down a light switch and illuminating a large s.p.a.ce, well filled with the abandoned clutter and tat of centuries.

'There's another, smaller attic over the kitchen wing, but there's nothing much in it, as I recall. In the days when there were several servants, I think some of them slept there.'

'I hadn't even noticed a way into it,' I confessed.

'It's in a dark corner of the landing and looks like a cupboard door.'

'That would account for it'.

Noel led the way to a dust-sheeted pile between a large trunk and a miscellany of broken chairs. 'Here we are,' he announced and Jess tore off the sheet eagerly.

'We need all these boxes marked with a large C, and that red metal stand for the Christmas tree,' he began, then noticed he'd lost my attention. 'I see you are admiring the Spanish chest, m'dear?'

'Yes, it looks ancient?'

'Parts of the house are extremely old and the chest has always been here. We think it might be Elizabethan and came into the family when an ancestor married a Spanish bride, or perhaps a few years later. Did I mention that family legend has it that Shakespeare once visited Old Place, too?'

'No,' I said, 'though it doesn't surprise me, since they found those Shakespeare doc.u.ments over at Sticklepond recently. He seems to have got about a bit, doesn't he? You'd probably be hard-pressed to find any large house in West Lancas.h.i.+re that he wasn't alleged to have visited!'

'Very true!' he acknowledged. 'You know, until recently we used to act out Twelfth Night on New Year's Eve: ”If music be the food of love, play on . . .”' He sighed wistfully. 'Oh well . . .'

'I'm not allowed to go in that chest for dressing-up things,' Jess said.

'No, the mumming costumes for the Revels are in it, though the heads are stored in the hayloft behind the Auld Christmas.'

'The heads?' I repeated.

'The Dragon and Red Hoss and the Man-Woman's hat and mask,' he explained, though that didn't make things much clearer: the opposite, if anything.

'You know,' he added, looking at me with a puzzled air, 'you already feel so much like one of the family that I keep forgetting that you are not, and don't know all our little ways and customs. But I have mentioned the Revels on Twelfth Night, haven't I?'

I was glad to be thought of as one of the family, even though I was doubling as cook and general factotum, because I was in a strange position: it's easier when I'm on cooking a.s.signments, because then I'm definitely staff.

'Is it Morris dancing? I've noticed the photographs, especially in the library.'

'That's right, dancing and a little play-acting just a simple ceremony . . .' he said vaguely. 'It takes place on the green in front of the Auld Christmas and has been performed for centuries, though of course there have been changes over the years. I'll show you some more photographs after dinner, if you like?'

'Thank you, that would be really interesting,' I agreed, thinking that this might be a way of getting him to tell me more about his brother Ned.

'Oh look sledges!' Jess said, spotting them leaning against the wall behind the boxes. 'Two of them and they're plastic, so they must have belonged to Uncle Jude and Guy.'

'That's right,' Noel said. 'There are a couple of old wooden ones around somewhere too, that we oldies had when we were children or maybe they fell apart, I can't remember.'

There was so much clutter; anything could be up there, including Santa and all his reindeer. It could do with a jolly good clear-out.

'I think the blue one was Jude's and the red one Guy's, though I expect they fell out over that, too Guy always wanted what his older brother had and they were forever squabbling.'

'I suppose that's natural,' I said.

'In a child, but perhaps not so allowable in an adult . . . though now Guy's getting married and settling down, I expect he will see things differently. There's nothing like having children of your own to give you a new perspective on life.'

'I was a mistake,' Jess announced.

'More of a very welcome surprise,' amended her grandfather.

'Would it be all right if I used one of the sledges, Grandpa?'

'Take them both down, m'dear: perfect weather for sledging and perhaps Holly will join you. I wish my poor old bones were up to it,' he added wistfully.

Jess carried the sledges downstairs first, then came back up and started ferrying down boxes of decorations to the sitting room. I took the tree stand and a carton marked 'swags and door wreath' while Noel clutched the box containing a precious antique hand-carved wooden Nativity scene. By the time we'd stacked everything in a corner of the sitting room, I had to go and start making lunch.

Tilda stubbornly insisted on coming downstairs and joining us for soup, egg sandwiches and chocolate cake. Apart from a slightly black eye, she looked a little better, though moving very stiffly. Afterwards she established herself on the sofa in the sitting room and exhibited a slight tendency to issue orders to all of us, but especially me, wanting to know exactly how I would be coping with the catering over Christmas. But I didn't really mind that, because when I cook for house-parties I'm used to consulting over the menus, so I sat down with her for a good discussion.

'Luckily the house is extremely well stocked and I always bring my cookery books, recipe notebook and favourite store cupboard ingredients with me, so there should be no problem. There's a shelf of cookery books in the kitchen, too.'

When I'd leafed through one or two well-thumbed-looking ones, I'd found additions pencilled next to the recipes, so someone had been a keen cook: either the last housekeeper or perhaps Jude's mother.

'We might run out of fresh salad, fruit and perishable things if the village is snowed in, but we can get by without them,' I added. 'There's loads of bread in the freezer, and b.u.t.ter, eggs, cheese, long-life juice, milk and cream. We certainly won't starve.'

'And you have everything you need for the traditional Christmas dinner?' she asked.

'Yes, there's no problem there. I cooked the ham this morning and I've taken the turkey out of the freezer and put it in the larder to defrost slowly. What time do you usually have it? Are you a lunch or evening family?'

'About two in the afternoon, then we only need a late supper of sandwiches and cake instead of dinner. We do the same on Boxing Day.'

'Right . . . though perhaps we might like a change from turkey on Boxing Day? I noticed a whole salmon in one of the freezers and thought we could have that instead, then a second roast turkey dinner the next day, before I use up the remains in dishes like curry for the freezer.'

Tilda gave her gracious approval to all my plans, which was just as well, since I would have carried on regardless. I don't let any of my clients interfere with my cooking, with the exception of dietary requirements; although since I smile and nod while listening to them issuing orders, I'm sure they think the resulting wonderful food is all their own idea.

'We have champagne with Christmas dinner,' Noel said, 'but I'll see to the drinks so you needn't worry about that.'

'I'll need some more brandy for the pudding too,' I told him, 'because I used up what was in the decanter.'