‘Good morning, Laura,’ she said with her sweet smile. ‘Have I slept very late? I was tired after that fabulous party last night.’
‘Not at all,’ I reassured her. ‘You’re right on time.’
After I had helped her to the bathroom, we sat either side of a polished circular table by the window to have breakfast.
‘What a view,’ she said, nibbling at her toast. ‘I have never grown tired of it in all the years I have lived here.’
I could see why. Beyond the immaculate frosty lawns and through the morning mist you could make out undulating hills in the distance. Dozens of birds came and went to the feeders hung in the bare trees, and I could hear wood pigeons gently cooing.
‘Here,’ said Marilise suddenly, opening a small cabinet next to her and taking out a bag of seed. ‘Open the window and put this on the sill; sometimes, I get a little visitor.’
I did as she had instructed and, sure enough, a few moments later, a little robin appeared. He pecked at the seed, then looked straight at us, his head on one side, as he ate.
‘Isn’t he sweet!’ I said. ‘The gardener’s friend, isn’t that what people call them?’
‘My friends, too,’ said Marilise. ‘We saw so many of them at the palace when I was young, we used to tame them so they would come and sit on our hands to take treats. One year my dear father took photographs of all us children with them perched on our fingers. He may have been an important man with all the jewels and luxuries imaginable, but he loved a simple robin, and a child’s joy in it.’
‘Christmases there must have been incredible,’ I said, trying to imagine the bygone days of a sumptuous palace and a royal family now destroyed, its members dispersed around the world.
‘Oh, they were! It always snowed at that time of year, and we drove our nursemaids crazy by spending hours playing in it, then crying because we were so cold and wet. They would bring us inside and change us into dry clothes, scolding us for our folly, and then we would sit by the fire and our parents would come,bringing sweets and little pastries that cheered us up and made us want to go and play in the snow again.’
I laughed.
‘I guess children are the same no matter what!’
‘Exactly, although we of course had the luxury to be naughtier than many.’ Her face grew solemn. ‘We did not have to work from a young age, help put food on the table, or worry about losing our home. Or so we thought. It was a blessed time.’
‘How old were you when you had to leave?’ I asked.
‘Seventeen,’ she replied. ‘One night my mother shook me awake, told me to put on as many clothes as possible, with my jewels stuffed into my underwear. I was allowed one suitcase, and I remember the feeling of panic, not because I feared what might happen to my family – I was too ignorant and protected for that – but because I could not take all my belongings with me.’
‘How awful,’ I said, tears coming to my eyes as I imagined the horror of their nighttime flit.
‘Yes, but we were so lucky, so lucky to be able to come to England and continue a very spoilt life, even if it was not the same. We lived at the Ritz for two years, the Ritz! We do not deserve sympathy. Many people are displaced and do not have the comforts that we took for granted. Anyway, I prefer to remember the happy parts of my life, and Christmas is among those.’
‘Well, I’m very glad to be spending this Christmas with you,’ I said. ‘And I’m sure that even if we can’t replicate the Christmases of your childhood, we can still make it a very happy one.’
‘Not if Nick’s got anything to do with it,’ said a cheeky voice from the doorway. It was India. ‘Mind if I join you?’ She lifted up a bowl. ‘I had a glorious ride this morning on Firefly and everyone else has finished breakfast.’
I pulled another chair over to the table and she sat down.
‘So, how are we going to persuade Nick to get this house looking more festive?’ she asked, gobbling down porridge. ‘I don’t think there are any decorations here at all.’
‘I did have an idea,’ I said slowly. ‘I don’t think it will take too much in the way of actual decorations, mostly paper and paint and some imagination.’
‘I’m sure we can supply those,’ said Marilise. ‘What is your idea?’
‘Well, I was thinking about Sofia arriving later today, and worried that she will already be feeling upset. It would be nice to have something to welcome her. I know it’s not December yet, but I thought we could do a sort of Christmas countdown, using the house – make it into a giant advent calendar.’
‘That sounds brilliant,’ said India. ‘How are we going to do it?’
I smiled at the ‘we’.
‘I don’t think we can have it all ready in one go, but I thought to get started we could put today’s date in one of the windows. She would have to go and find that window from inside the house and there will be some sort of Christmassy surprise there to welcome her. Then maybe we could all take turns doing different windows for different people.’
Marilise clapped her hands with joy, and I could see the carefree little princess still within her.
‘This is beautiful, Laura! I will enjoy thinking of ideas, so much.’
