The Magic of Christmas (39 page)
Nick forged his way through the crowd and handed me a plastic tumbler of hot toddy, which I took automatically and drained in one: I needed it.
‘Well,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘I don’t know how we’ll be able to follow that next year.’
I turned on him accusingly. ‘You knew that was going to happen — you, Caz and Uncle Roly set that up. How long have you known it was Polly who sabotaged the car?’
‘Not long at all. I thought that, at least, was an accident, until Caz told me what he’d seen. He’d been watching from the woods that day and saw Polly come out of Tom’s workshop and look at the car, then pick up the wheel brace (which Jasper must have left leaning against the wall, by the way) and start unscrewing the nuts — by sheer coincidence on the same wheel you’d changed earlier. Then she put the wheel brace back where she found it and left. Caz was going to go down and see what she’d been up to when the coast was clear, but Tom drove off in your car before he had the chance. So Caz wrapped the wheel brace in sacking and put it behind the freezer you let him use.’
‘Why? And why didn’t he say anything?’
He shrugged. ‘Well, you know Caz. He said he thought at first it was something to do with ARG and he didn’t want to get Ophelia into trouble. It was before he knew that Polly wasn’t a member of the group, just forcing Ophelia to target you.’
‘He’s not keen on the police anyway. But he confided in
you
.’
‘Yes, he finally told me the whole thing, because he was so angry that Polly was prepared to harm Ophelia, even when she was pregnant. I negotiated with the police and they’re going to forget that Ophelia was ever a member of ARG in return for Caz’s statement.’
He seemed to feel this was worthy of praise, for he paused expectantly.
‘Oh, well done, Nick!’ Annie, who had been listening admiringly, exclaimed. ‘You are clever!’
I gave her a withering look. ‘I think you might have let me in on what was happening, Nick!’
‘Why? You didn’t tell
me
anything! I found it all out for myself.’
‘Yes, but Lizzy was upset when you were flirting with Polly, Nick,’ Annie said traitorously.
‘No I wasn’t!’ I exclaimed indignantly. ‘I—’
‘Ssh … afterwards,’ Nick said, a gleam in his slaty dark eyes, ‘they’re starting again.’
I gave him a glare and moved away, avoiding him for the rest of the entertainment, which isn’t easy when you’re enclosed in a small courtyard. I can’t say my mind was completely on the play either — or even on the refreshments, which just goes to show how churned-up and confused I felt.
But eventually I began to be caught up in the Mysteries again, just as I was every year.
Kylie was a subdued and modest Mary, with only one or two wisps of violently pink hair escaping from her hooded robe, and her fingernails unpainted. The huge rock that sparkled in the muted light on her engagement finger was not quite in role, though: Kylie had clearly got her man.
There were the usual moments of light relief during the Miracles: it didn’t matter that the audience had heard the lines before.
‘Get up, thou great lazy lummock,’ Jesus told the Lame Man forthrightly. ‘Pick up thy pallet and walk.’
‘I’ll be reet glad to, lad, ’tis no life for a man, this. What did tha say thy name wor?’ asked the Lame Man, getting up.
‘Jesus of Nazareth.’
‘Is that ower near Burnley?’
‘Nay,’ said Jesus, moving on to the next supplicant. ‘What’s t’matter wi’ him?’ he asked one of the disciples.
‘He can’t see owt, master.’
‘That’s reet,’ agreed the Blind Man. ‘But I believe thee can cure me and so my friends hath brought me here.’
‘I’ll touch thy eyes, and if thee believe, then thee will see. How many fingers am I holding up?’
‘All of ’em, Lord.’
The audience cheered, then sobered for the final darker scenes before the second interval. But once the curtain was drawn across the crucifixion scene (excellently performed by Gary Naylor) the holiday spirit returned and everyone headed for the refreshments to fortify themselves for the resurrection and the grand finale.
Chapter 33: Well Stirred
‘We’re happy, Lord, to see thee again,’ Faye said stolidly, in her role as Mary Magdalen. ‘Thee said that thee would come back and thou were right. Wilt thou stay awhile?’
‘Nay, I must get home to my Heavenly Father.’
‘Well, I reckon he’ll be reet glad t’see thee, and thou art done thy bit for mankind.’
‘My father hath many mansions, Mary, and all who believe in him will be welcome in t’Kingdom of Heaven.’
‘That’ll be proper champion, that will,’ Mary said gratefully.
‘I’ll be off then,’ Jesus said, suiting the action to the words, and Mary followed him behind the drawn curtain.
An angel appeared, the new white goose-feather patches on his wings glistening, and stood with one hand cupped to his ear, as if listening intently.
‘Here is my judgement, and the pure of heart need fear nowt,’ said Roly as Voice of God, refreshed and speeding up considerably now the finishing post was in sight.
‘What is thy wish, Lord?’ asked the angel.
‘That retribution shall visit the wrongdoers.’
‘Lord, it shall be done.’
‘Let it be so, for as the old year dies, another, Lazarus-like, rises anew. Our play is played out, our Mysteries unfolded,’ said God.
The angel, who’d been gazing vaguely up into the rafters, now turned to look directly at the audience and said weightily, ‘Look into t’mirror of thy heart and, if thou like not what thou see, then freshly start again, fer Christ died fer thee.’
God, as always, got the last word. ‘Heed my commandments. Keep thy conscience clear. Remember, I’ll see thee agin, this time next year!’
Going by the wild applause it was certainly another Middlemoss Mystery success, but more than one mystery had been enacted, revealed and resolved today. It had been a cathartic and exhausting experience, and the audience was subdued as they slowly began to leave, while
I
felt like a well-wrung-out dishrag.
‘Everyone involved in organising the play has been invited to the house for a hot toddy before we go home,’ Annie said, taking my arm and giving it a squeeze. ‘You’re coming too, aren’t you, Lizzy? Look, there’s Jasper going in. And I want to know all the details about Polly, too — did you really not know
any
of that was going to happen?’
‘No, of course I didn’t!’ I snapped, finding myself being swept through the kitchen and along the passage to the Great Hall, where the steaming silver punch bowl and a tray of sandwiches were laid out before a blazing log fire. ‘I’d have told you.’
Roly beckoned me across to where he was sitting with Delphine. ‘Well, my dear,’ he said, ‘that seems to have worked out for the best, doesn’t it? Justice for poor Tom has been served, and everything is sorted out satisfactorily.’
‘Is it?’ I said, slightly sourly.
‘You were very good as Eve,’ Delphine said kindly. ‘Quite beautiful in that costume.’
‘Yes, you’re much better with Nick as Adam,’ agreed Roly. ‘But if he isn’t playing it next year, he can take over as Voice of God.’
‘That was Lizzy’s last turn in the role, wasn’t it?’ Nick said, having come up behind me unobserved. ‘I’m not playing Adam to anyone else’s Eve.’
Roly looked from one to the other of us and, beaming, took our hands and clasped them together in his. (Theatricality also runs in the Pharamond bloodline.) ‘Let it be a New Year, a new beginning for both of you!’ he said sentimentally.
‘I don’t know what you mean, Unks,’ I said, trying and failing to loosen my hand from Nick’s strong grip. ‘And I’m afraid I’ll have to be going home now. Jasper?’
‘I’m going out again, to help clear up,’ Jasper said quickly. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘I’ll walk you home, Lizzy,’ Nick said, ‘but first there’s something I want to show you.’
I couldn’t imagine what he’d got that I hadn’t already seen. But I let him lead me upstairs to the long gallery, switching on the wall lights as we went. He came to a stop in front of the portrait of an eighteenth-century Pharamond bride, who posed with one slender hand resting on a book — and on her finger, my ring. I just
knew
it was an old family piece.
‘There — you see?’ he said.
‘Nick, I can’t possibly keep a family heirloom, whatever Unks says. Please take it back!’ I protested, tugging it off my finger and handing it to him. He accepted it, then calmly took hold of my other hand and shoved it over the knuckle of my ring finger instead.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ I said, trying to pull away.
‘It’s the betrothal ring of the Pharamonds.’
‘I dare say it is, but we’re not betrothed—’
‘I think we are, and Unks thinks we are — so you’re outnumbered. Just as well he would never let Leila have the ring, because I’d never have got it back.’
I glared at him. ‘This isn’t the Middle Ages, so I do have a say in all this, Nick Pharamond — and I’m not engaged to you! You are an underhand, devious—’
‘Yes, I know,’ he said soothingly, pulling me close, ‘but I do love you. I think, deep down, I always did.’
‘You have a damned strange way of showing it!’
‘There wasn’t much point, when we were both married to other people … but the postcards showed I was always thinking of you. I never wanted quite to let go of you.
And
you kept them all.’
‘Only for the recipes,’ I said quickly, fighting a rear-guard action, for close proximity was scrambling my brain cells and weakening my knees, just as it so disastrously had on Bonfire Night. ‘Besides, we argue all the time and you despise my cooking!’
‘No I don’t, I just like to wind you up. You should know that by now.’
‘You think
your
cooking is more important than I am!’ I accused him.
He grinned. ‘No, I think it’s a pretty even match, actually. I don’t see why I can’t have my cake and eat it.’
‘I do. And anyway, we’re just too different — it’d never work,’ I said firmly, then ruined the effect by smiling back at him.
‘If mayonnaise works, I don’t see why mixing the two of
us
together shouldn’t — if we do it slowly and very carefully.’ His lips moved over my face and then lingered on my mouth before I could point out that curdled mayonnaise was a lot easier to rescue than a curdled marriage.
Oh, hot chilli chocolate sauce!
I thought, but more in resignation than revolt.
He
was the one who broke that clinch: I couldn’t have, even if you’d waved a giant Mars bar in front of me.
‘And I’ve had a great idea! Once you’ve finished
Just Desserts
, we’ll collaborate on a joint recipe book of all the postcards. We’ll call it
A Feast of Romance
,’ he added soulfully.
I laughed. Senga was going to absolutely love it — and him. ‘That is a totally corny idea! And what’s more, I’m not cooking anything with you, because I always end up doing all the donkey wo—’
I stopped dead as I spotted Caz silently slinking out of the dark shadows at the end of the gallery. Downstairs someone had turned up the music so that the heavenly sound of a choir singing Silent Night drifted down the long, dark gallery, while over our heads a mistletoe ball rotated in the slight draught from the open door. Caz jerked his head back in the direction of the stairs. ‘Mr Roly says t’champagne’s open. You two done, yet?’
‘Rising nicely,’ Nick said, glancing up at the mistletoe ball thoughtfully, then reaching for me again.
‘Half-baked!’ I amended, giving him a quelling look. ‘Caz, tell him we’ll be down in a minute — and perhaps you ought to cork up the champagne again, because there are just a
few
rules of engagement I need to thrash out first, before I even
consider
this insane idea.’
‘Like what?’ Nick asked suspiciously.
‘Separate kitchens,’ I said, smiling sweetly. ‘And that’s just for starters!’
Loved the seasonal treats in this book?
Then why not try and make them yourself?
1)
Mincemeat Flapjacks
These are very easy to make!
Ingredients:
4 oz butter
2 tablespoons of golden syrup
2 oz Demerara sugar (or a soft, dark brown sugar, if you want a slightly ‘treacly’ taste)
5 heaped tablespoons of mincemeat, either bought or home-made
5 oz rolled oats
Method:
Preheat oven to gas mark 3, 160 °C, 325°F and grease a seven-inch baking tin. If using a cake tin instead, then I would line the base with baking paper, too.
Melt together the sugar and syrup in a pan over a low heat, then stir in the mincemeat and, once warmed through, the oats.
Remove from heat and mix well, then spoon into the baking tin and spread it out, flattening the top.
Put into the oven for about half an hour: it should be slightly golden brown. Remove and leave to cool for fifteen minutes before marking into squares or slices.
When cool, store in an airtight container.
2)
Christmas Mincemeat Spudge
(Mashed potato fudge)
Ingredients:
5 oz of mashed potato
1 oz butter
1 lb icing sugar (and some extra, in case it is needed)
4 tablespoons mincemeat, either bought or home-made
A few drops of almond essence
Method:
Grease a small baking tray or pie dish.
Mash the potato with the butter and, while still warm, stir in the icing sugar. When smooth, mix in the mincemeat and the almond essence to taste.
Depending on the runniness of the mincemeat used, you may need to add extra icing sugar — you are aiming for a very stiff consistency that has to be spread into the tray. (The first time I tried this variation I didn’t put quite enough sugar in, so it didn’t set hard, but it made a lovely fudge topping for vanilla ice cream!)
When cold it will be firm and can be cut into pieces and stored in an airtight box in the fridge.
Variations:
You can make plain Spudge by omitting the mincemeat. Instead try adding vanilla essence and/or two tablespoons of de siccated coconut. When cold, cover with a layer of melted chocolate.