Twelve Days of Christmas: A bestselling Christmas read to devour in one sitting!. Trisha Ashley

fire in the big inglenook fireplace in the sitting room tomorrow and that should warm the house through. My bedroom isn’t too bad, because it’s right over the kitchen with the Aga.’

      ‘How big is this place?’

      ‘Bigger than I expected, but I’ve cooked for house-parties in much larger and grander houses. The sitting room is huge and looks like it might have started life as a medieval hall, but then two new wings have been added and lots of dark panelling and moulded ceilings.’

      ‘That sounds pretty grand to me!’

      ‘You could fit the floor space of my entire house in the kitchen wing with room to spare,’ I admitted.

      ‘That’s a stately home as far as I’m concerned – and you are in sole possession, the lady of the manor.’

      ‘Yes, but I know my place: the hired help’s bedroom is in the service wing, though there’s a bathroom opposite with a decent electric shower. I expect I’ll spend most of my time in the kitchen and just take a quick daily walk round the rest of the house to check everything is all right.’

      ‘Sooner you than me, rattling around alone in a spooky old house in the middle of nowhere.’

      I laughed. ‘You know I don’t believe in ghosts or the supernatural! No, I’ll be fine. The cleaner showed me round when I arrived, but she isn’t coming back because she’s got another job. She won’t be any loss, though, because the place is totally filthy and neglected, she can’t have been doing anything. Then again, Jude Martland was paying her a pittance, so you can’t really blame her for that.’

      ‘So – you’ll be entirely alone all the time? It isn’t really haunted, is it?’

      ‘Sharon – that’s the cleaner – tried to put the wind up me, telling me about ghosts and an annual local ceremony on Twelfth Night. She seemed to be implying that the villagers would want to use me as some kind of ceremonial sacrifice, but I wasn’t really listening because it was all entirely daft!’

      ‘You won’t be there that night anyway, will you?’

      ‘No, I’m leaving that morning, before the client gets back – that was the arrangement Mo and Jim had.’

      ‘Is it very isolated? I can’t imagine what you’ll do with yourself.’

      ‘Apart from trying to finish off my cookbook, I’ve brought that tin trunk of Gran’s papers to sort and I’m going to carry on reading her journal at bedtime, too. She’s been sent to a new hospital and made friends, so it’s getting more interesting.’

      ‘Perhaps that Ned Martland she mentioned was one of the doctors and she had a crush on him?’ she suggested.

      ‘Maybe,’ I agreed. ‘I’ll tell you if I find out. And I’m not totally isolated here, because the village is only about half a mile away and, if I feel like company, the old couple at the lodge have invited me to drop in any time. But you know me – I like being alone.’

      ‘Sam was really disappointed when I told him you weren’t coming for Christmas Day after all,’ she hinted, but I just laughed.

      By now, it seemed like a week since I had set out for Little Mumming and I decided on an early night.

      Merlin and I had our dinner, and then he accompanied me around the ground floor while I checked the doors and windows. We’d returned to the kitchen and I was just about to fill my trusty hot water bottle, when suddenly the phone on the large dresser rang loudly, nearly giving me a heart attack.

      ‘Is that Holly Brown?’ demanded a deep voice that seemed to vibrate right down to my feet and back again in a very novel, if slightly disturbing, way.

      ‘Yes, speaking.’

      ‘Jude Martland: I just caught up with my emails and found one from Homebodies saying the Chirks had had to leave and you were taking over.’

      ‘That’s right, and I’m so glad you’ve rung, because—’

      ‘No, it’s damned-well not all right!’ he rudely interrupted. ‘I’ve just called my uncle, and apparently you’re not only alone in the house, but you’ve also no experience with horses whatsoever!’

      ‘Look, Mr Martland,’ I said soothingly. ‘I always house-sit alone and your instructions were very comprehensive – exhaustive, even. Well, apart from the goat,’ I qualified.

      ‘What?’

      ‘Billy. There was no mention of him.’

      ‘Of course there was – you just didn’t bother looking for it! But what really matters is that I left Old Place, Lady and Merlin in safe hands, with people I knew and trusted – then suddenly I hear that someone totally unsuitable has been drafted in, without a by-your-leave!’

      ‘Actually, I’m repeatedly rebooked by the same clients, year after year,’ I said evenly. ‘You were lucky that my Christmas placement had also fallen through, so that I was free to step into the breach! And thank you, Holly Brown, for coping with the emergency,’ I found myself adding acerbically.

      There was a pause, then he growled, grudgingly, ‘I suppose there was no alternative, but I’m not happy with the arrangement – or that Homebodies went ahead and did this without asking me.’

      ‘Ellen did her best to contact you and, in any case, she knows I’m completely trustworthy and capable.’

      ‘Sending a young woman to look after an isolated house alone, especially over Christmas, can hardly be ideal.’

      ‘Thank you, but I don’t celebrate Christmas, I’m not actually that young and I prefer isolation.’

      ‘Noël mentioned you didn’t celebrate Christmas – and that’s another problem, because my aunt and uncle were looking forward to having Christmas dinner with the Chirks and I felt better knowing Tilda wouldn’t have to cook it. I know she still does most of their cooking, but she’s looking quite frail these days.’

      ‘Yes, so she said, but I don’t think she’s going to attempt the full monty – they’re having a roast chicken instead,’ I said. ‘And I expect her granddaughter will help her.’

      ‘Oh God, I’d entirely forgotten about Jess being there on her own this year!’

      ‘Mmm … I’m afraid you don’t seem to be her favourite person at the moment, Mr Martland.’

      There was a pause, and then he suggested, ‘Perhaps you could cook the Christmas dinner instead of the Chirks? You can cook?’

      ‘I’m a professional chef, that’s what I do during the summer,’ I said icily, ‘and my charges are very high. In winter I prefer to house-sit for a rest. Catering for family dinner parties doesn’t come into my current plans and besides, as I’ve said, I don’t celebrate Christmas in any way.’

      ‘But—’

      ‘Mr Martland,’ I interrupted firmly, ‘while I’m sorry your arrangements have been put out, you can rest assured that I’ll keep an eye on your property and look after the animals until your return on Twelfth Night.’

      ‘But how can I be sure of that when I know nothing about you, except that you have no knowledge of horses and—’

      ‘Look,’ I said, ‘you don’t have any alternative! If you think I’m going to drink your gin and fall into a drunken coma over Christmas, neglecting the animals and burning the house down, I suggest you email Ellen for my CV and references. Good night, Mr Martland.’

      And I slammed down the receiver.

      I regretted my lapse into rudeness almost immediately. It must have been tiredness, but also there was something about his manner that rubbed me up the wrong way. While a bit of snappishness might be allowable in a cook of my calibre, provided I produced delicious meals, which