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

into the breach at such short notice,’ he began stiffly.

      ‘Mrs – and of course I understood that you were concerned that your house and animals were being taken care of by a total stranger. But you can rest easy: everything is perfectly under control and your Aunt Becca came here and gave me some excellent advice about Lady, as well as her phone number, should anything crop up.’

      ‘Oh good!’ He sounded relieved. ‘You did put Lady’s medicine in her warm mash last night, didn’t you?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘And kept Billy away from it until she’d eaten it?’

      ‘Naturally,’ I said, though it had been quite a tussle to stop Billy diving into the bucket before Lady was finished. ‘Lady’s fine. And your gardener, Henry, helpfully showed me what to do if the electricity goes off and the generator doesn’t come on automatically.’

      ‘Henry told you?’ he repeated incredulously.

      ‘Of course! He could see the necessity, in case he wasn’t available to come to Old Place and deal with it himself. And I mean to walk into Little Mumming tomorrow, so I’ll call in to see your aunt and uncle at the lodge to ask them if they need any shopping. So you see, you’ve nothing to worry about and can enjoy your holiday,’ I finished kindly.

      ‘It’s not entirely a holiday: there was a ceremony to unveil one of my sculptures yesterday.’

      ‘Oh yes, I’ve seen that horse you did up on a hill near Manchester and it’s very nice.’

      ‘Nice? Do try not to sound too impressed,’ he said, seeming a bit miffed. ‘I’m supposed to be off to the Hamptons to stay with friends for Christmas tomorrow, but I don’t see how I can possibly relax and enjoy it when I know you’re alone at Old Place looking after everything – the weather can be bad up there, you know, Little Mumming is often cut off in winter.’

      ‘So I’ve already been told – and really, the dimmest person would be able to appreciate that if the steep hill down from the village was icy, it would be impassable. But don’t worry, I’ve often been snowed in up Scotland and it’s not a problem.’

      ‘You don’t mind isolation then?’

      ‘No. In fact, I enjoy it. I have some work I want to finish off too – a book of house-party recipes I’m compiling.’

      ‘Yes, you said you were a cook,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Look, I know you said you didn’t celebrate Christmas, but I really think you might reconsider—’

      I could see he was about to ask me to cook the family Christmas dinner all over again, probably due to a suddenly guilty conscience, so I interrupted him quite firmly before he got going.

      ‘Mr Martland, I try to ignore Christmas as much as I can and also I recently lost the grandmother who brought me up. She was a Strange Baptist, so I wasn’t raised to think the worldly trappings of the season of importance in any case.’

      ‘What was strange about her being a Baptist?’ he asked, diverted.

      ‘Nothing. Strange Baptists were a breakaway sect at the turn of the century, though there aren’t that many of them left.’ I glanced out of the window. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, your uncle and niece have just arrived in a golf buggy, so I’d better go and let them in, there’s a biting wind out there.’

      ‘No, wait,’ he ordered, ‘go and fetch him to the phone, so I can speak to him. I—’

      ‘Call him yourself later, if you want to,’ I interrupted and put the receiver down. Cut off in his prime again. This was getting to be a habit – but he was proving to be a most irritating man, especially that deep, rumbling voice: it was as disturbing as distant thunder!

      Chapter 8

       Deep Freeze

       The new patient’s leg is answering well to the penicillin but he teases me when I am changing his dressings and tries to make me laugh … and sometimes succeeds, despite my best attempts to keep a straight face.

       January, 1945

      ‘We thought we would call in and see how you were getting on,’ Noël explained, ‘though Becca stopped briefly on her way home and said you were doing fine. But I wanted to return some books to the library in any case. Jude doesn’t mind my popping in and out, I’ve always had the run of the place. And Mo and Jim said they didn’t mind in the least, either.’

      ‘Of course, it’s your family home, so you must come and go as you please,’ I assured him.

      ‘Thank you, m’dear,’ he said, with his attractively lopsided smile, ‘only of course, now I have had to give up driving the car, the golf buggy is very chilly and really not up to winter weather conditions.’

      ‘I drove Grandpa up,’ Jess said. ‘I was bored and I like driving the buggy; only I’m not allowed to do it on my own.’

      Seeing she was looking wistfully at my slice of fruit cake I said, ‘Can I get you both some tea and perhaps a slice of cake? Mine has gone cold because your nephew just rang again, so I was going to make a fresh pot anyway.’

      ‘Oh, Jude got through?’ he asked. ‘What a pity we were not here in time to speak to him.’

      ‘I’m afraid he simply had to go. But I expect he’ll phone you back later.’

      ‘Very likely … but we don’t want to disturb you if you are busy,’ he said, with a look at the pile of papers next to the easy chair.

      ‘Not at all, I was only going to look at some notes for a recipe book I’m compiling – Cooking for House-Parties. I’ve been collecting recipes and tips for years, but now I’m finally hoping to get it ready to send out to publishers in the New Year.’

      ‘Do people have large house-parties any more? I remember them as a young man, and jolly good fun they were, too!’ said Noël a little wistfully.

      ‘Oh yes, you’d be surprised – but probably they’re very different from the ones you knew.’

      ‘I know Becca still gets invited to shooting and fishing ones,’ he said. ‘And the family have always gathered here at Old Place between Christmas and Twelfth Night, so that is a house-party too, I suppose.’

      ‘I think your book needs a less boring title than Cooking for House-Parties, Jess said frankly.

      ‘That’s just the working title, but if you can think of a better one, let me know.’

      ‘I’m writing a vampire book, with lots of blood,’ she confided.

      ‘I expect there would be in a vampire book.’

      ‘There wasn’t a great deal, as I recall, in Bram Stoker’s Dracula,’ her grandfather said doubtfully.

      ‘There will be in mine. I’m going to kill off all the girls at school I don’t like – horribly.’

      ‘Good idea – that sounds immensely satisfying,’ I said.

      Noël settled comfortably on the sofa in front of the fire. Jess came through to the kitchen with me and, while I brewed a fresh pot of tea and laid the tray with cups and saucers and the remains of my fast-vanishing fruit cake, fetched a carton of long-life orange juice from the lavish supply in the larder and opened it.

      ‘Jude likes this with his breakfast.’

      ‘Going by the ready meals in the freezer, he doesn’t do much cooking, does he? There’s lots of other food in there, but most of it looks as if it’s been there for ages, especially the game.’

      ‘I think he forgets to cook half the time, apart from breakfast. It’s Aunt Becca who puts all the game and trout and stuff in the freezers – she’s forever visiting friends and coming back with more than she knows