The Magic of Christmas (35 page)

If he wanted a motto for his cracker, ‘I shot myself in the foot’ would do admirably.

Jasper and Ginny arrived unexpectedly next afternoon, dropped off for a couple of hours by his friend Stu, who had bought a car.

I wished he could have given me warning, so I could have cooked him something he loved, but it was wonderful to see him. I know we’ve talked over the phone a lot, but it wasn’t the same as actually being able to put my arms around him and give him a hug. He looked sort of subtly grown-up too … and even Ginny refrained from trying to bite my ankles, so perhaps absence made the heart grow fonder. I told him about the photoshoot and what a hollow mockery of a real Christmas it had been, then after a while, he popped up to the Hall to see the family and came back later with the news that Nick was off travelling abroad for the next couple of weeks, which is something he does do from time to time, filing his copy from wherever he is. But yesterday he didn’t say a word about where he was going!

Mind you, he hardly said a word to me at all …

Mrs Gumball had given Jasper half a cold roast chicken and an apple turnover to take back to university with him, Unks a fifty-pound note (I didn’t even remember seeing one of those before) and Mimi, not to be outdone, presented him with the gold crown from yesterday’s cracker. I’d already packed up a moveable feast as my contribution to the student larder, so they would none of them starve before the end of term.

When Stu came to pick Jasper and Ginny up again I heroically refrained from quizzing him about how good his car brakes were, or telling him to drive carefully. I think I deserved a medal for that.

At the CPC meeting I gave Marian the mini Christmas cakes and so did one or two of the others. ‘Oh great,’ she said, ‘the hampers are coming along really well, I just need to bulk buy the boxes of mince pies nearer the delivery date.’

Of course we would have happily made those, too, but when surveyed the majority of the Senior Citizens preferred shop ones, though I’ve no idea why.

We were all crammed into Annie’s tiny cottage and once she had poured the coffee and passed the Fondant Fancies, she tipped a big bag of pine cones onto the newspaper she had spread over the table and showed us how to turn them into Christmas tree decorations.

‘I got the idea from a magazine and tried it with the Brownies last year, and they looked lovely,’ she said, ‘though I didn’t let them loose with the Superglue, of course.’

She demonstrated how to glue on a ribbon loop to the top, then dabbed a little gold paint around the cone, sprinkled it with glitter, and shook off the excess, before placing it in an old egg box to finish drying.

I’d wondered why she’d asked us to bring old egg boxes with us! And come to think of it, they would be perfect for storing any breakable tree ornaments too.

That evening the Mummers were in the workshop, practising the songs they would play in the intervals of the Mystery Play, and afterwards Ritch came over to the cottage and said he thought Ophelia was imminently going to give birth to a chest of drawers.

‘She
has
suddenly grown a big bump, all out at the front,’ I agreed. ‘Though I suppose those smocks she wears have been hiding it for months and so it’s only just become noticeable. She’s no idea when it’s due. You’d think she was living in the Middle Ages, the way she avoids modern medicine. Did you know she and Caz are going to get married?’

‘Are they?’ He looked at me over a table spread with home-made goodies (I’d half-expected him to come tonight) and unleashed his glowingly attractive smile. He appeared so blondly wholesome that I admit my heart gave a bit of a thump … Then I reminded myself that even if he
had
given up one of his dubious habits there was still the philandering and the healthy sex rota.

‘Yes, they’ve put the banns up already. And Annie’s parents are delighted about her engagement, too — they’re flying back in the New Year on leave for the wedding.’

Annie, now sporting a modest sapphire ring, was going about in a permanent glow of happiness.

‘She and the vicar seem perfectly matched,’ Ritch said. ‘Maybe
I
should try it?’

‘What, marriage?’ I said, startled.

‘Why not?’ He gestured at the table. ‘A woman who can cook like this is worth hanging on to!’

‘Don’t be daft,’ I said, though rather flattered. ‘Monogamy isn’t in you!’

The
Cotton Common
cast were kept hard at it this week, so Annie and I were also kept busy dogwalking: I was becoming very fond of Flo, and also of Delphine Lake’s little dogs.

Nick was not at the Mystery Play rehearsal that evening, of course, and it was all a bit unexciting. But then, it was mainly costume adjustments and props, for there were only a couple more rehearsals before the final dress one up at the Hall, so that was only to be expected.

Marian and Clive were also very involved in the annual Mosses Christmas Show, which was to take place in early December, so naturally they liked to have the Mystery Play well in hand in order to concentrate on that at the end of November instead.

I did go to the pub for a bit with the others, where Annie and Gareth revealed to me that they’ve decided that spending a fortune on a big wedding was immoral, so instead they were going to have a thrifty one and make a large donation to charity.

‘Luckily I’m the same size as Mummy was when she got married, so she suggested I wear her lovely wedding dress,’ Annie said on the Thursday, when I called in after taking Flo for a walk. ‘I took it out of storage this morning, with the veil and everything, and it was
perfect
. It’s hung up in my bedroom now. And dear Miss Pym says she’ll try and find four bridesmaids’ outfits in shades of pink on eBay, which she can alter to fit. She makes almost all her own clothes.’

‘I’d never have guessed,’ I said untruthfully. ‘But what about a reception? It’s a pity I got rid of the big glasshouse really, though I suppose it would have been too cold in January.’

‘Oh, we’ll have it in the village hall, with a simple buffet: perhaps all the guests could bring a contribution.’

‘I’ll make the wedding cake, that can be mine,’ I offered. ‘And do you know, I think getting married this way is going to be much more fun!’

‘Yes, that’s what I think, too,’ Annie said, her eyes shining. ‘And it will make our special day even more wonderful, knowing that we’ll be helping others.’

‘Spread the love,’ I agreed, giving her a hug. ‘Now, show me this beautiful wedding dress!’

It was Stir-Up Sunday, and the day when the church service traditionally included the prayer beginning with the words, ‘Stir up, O Lord, the wills of your faithful people’, which always used to be the signal for the Christmas puddings to be made.

My own huge, round one was long since made, but I spent most of that day cooking the ones for the Senior Citizens’ Christmas lunch. Mrs Gumball does all the rest of it, but I rather like making the puddings.

We’d stopped putting charms in them after a minor disaster when one of the Senior Citizens broke his dentures on a Bachelor’s Button: in any case, they always refused to give them back, and it got expensive buying new ones every year.

I felt the first twinge or two of excitement that Christmas always gave me: dim but happy memories of those spent with my parents and more recent ones with the Vanes. And whatever difficulties I’d had with Tom, I’d always tried to make sure that Jasper, too, would have a hoard of joyous treasured memories of Christmas.

It had been ages since Nick had gone abroad, but not a single postcard, with or without tart recipe, had arrived. Meanwhile the CPC had become more of a Wedding Circle, since we spent almost the whole time discussing Annie and Gareth’s big day!

Miss Pym put in low eBay bids on bridesmaids’ dresses and had already secured two, which were on the way.

‘And there does not seem to be much interest in bidding on the others, so I will know by this evening whether we have those as well,’ she said. ‘They are all in shades of pink, so though we won’t match, we will have a theme.’

‘Lovely,’ I said resignedly, though pink is definitely not my colour and, to be honest, it’s not going to do a lot for Faye’s ruddy complexion, either. ‘Though let’s hope it doesn’t snow, or we will freeze to death!’

‘What about if we all get an ivory-coloured pashmina or wrap?’ suggested Marian.

‘Good idea,’ I said, for at least a pashmina is likely to be useful later.

‘The meeting had better be at my house again next week, so we can have the first fitting,’ Miss Pym suggested, but by then we had completely lost the thread of our rota, as usual, so it might have been her turn anyway.

Although Ritch still often called in at the cottage after the Mummers sessions, we hadn’t been to Butterflake’s for a drink for ages, probably because he has another woman — or even two or three — on the go. Caz was still hanging around the cottage just as much as usual, though, but since he’d staked his claim on Ophelia, I supposed he would want to keep an even closer eye on her.

I finally got a postcard from Nick, with a Turkish delight recipe on the back. I wondered if that was an improvement on tarts …

We all had a mince pie tasting at the CPC over at Miss Pym’s neat bungalow in Mossedge. We had to wait until we’d had our bridesmaids’ dresses fitted first, though, so they didn’t get marked.

The four of them varied from baby pink to a deep rose (mine) and are all the traditional tight-bodiced, full-skirted type, with big, puffed sleeves. There was much pinning and tacking, then we had our mince pies and a modest sherry, since most of us were driving.

Miss Pym had also found some cheap pashminas on the internet and we gave her the go-ahead to buy them.

‘And Roly is providing all the flowers, including decorating the church and my bouquet,’ Annie said gratefully. ‘It is so kind of him. In fact, everyone is being wonderful.’

‘That’s because we all love you, dear,’ Marian said. ‘You will have a splendid day, just you wait and see!’

What with organising the Christmas Show, Senior Citizens’ Christmas hampers and lunch,
and
directing the Mystery Play (among other things too numerous to list), Marian was, by the end of November, starting to look even thinner, her huge dark eyes sunken and her cropped silver hair bristling with electricity. But she and Clive always insisted they loved to keep busy: and they must have done or they wouldn’t have volunteered for everything!

Luckily for their peace of mind, Nick returned just in time for the next Mystery Play rehearsal, albeit bleary-eyed, unshaven and very, very grumpy. He snapped out his lines with barely a look at me, which boded well for the next day’s early morning start helping Mrs Gumball to cook the Senior Citizens’ Christmas Lunch.

I can’t describe to you how much I
wasn’t
looking forward to that.