‘So, the quicker we are all dressed then the quicker we can all have breakfast and get to the presents. I bet you’re looking forward to opening them?’
Kate looked away, giving Simon time to emerge from his hiding place.
He appeared at her side, with his bow tie in his hands.
‘Can’t do it,’ he said offering it to her.
‘I agree, they’re awkward things to tie, aren’t they? Here, let me help you,’ she said taking it gently from him.
‘So, are we all ready now?’ Kate asked, looking directly at Thomas who was lost in the pages ofKing Arthur.
When he didn’t reply, she stood right beside him and repeated her question.
‘Last page,’ he replied, not taking his eyes off his book.
Kate hopedthey wouldn’t be late. She would then get the blame for ‘not being mindful of the importance of time’, as Mr Winton put it.
At her insistence they should hurry, the twins hurtled out of the nursery door and collided with their older sister, treading on her new silk slippers and making her gasp and frown with disapproval.
‘Now look what you’ve done, you little monsters,’ she complained. ‘I’ll never get those marks off.’
‘I’m so sorry, Miss Clara. I’m sure I can do something to mend the damage. If you remove them after breakfast and give them to me, I’ll have them good as new, ready for this evening’s party. You won’t need them until then, will you?’ Kate asked.
‘No, she won’t,’ another voice answered. It was Philip emerging from his room, looking smart in his morning suit. ‘We’re going for a carriage ride and a walk in the country after luncheon and she will need her outdoor shoes for that. Such delicate frippery as those slippers would spoil in the muddy lanes, am I not right, Kate?’
Kate nodded. ‘Oh yes, Mr Philip, indeed. They’d get well and truly spoiled.’
‘And we can’t have that can we, Clara?’ He winked at Kate, who let the corners of her mouth release the inkling of a smile back.
Clara drew her skirts up and flounced down the stairs.
‘Come on now,’ Philip said to his siblings, ‘we’re late enough. Pa will be livid and Ma will need to send for the smelling salts if her perfect plans are spoiled. You know how she is.’
Kate whipped the book out of Thomas’s hands as he walked past her. He threw her a puzzled look that said, What’s all the fuss about? He then joined the others, all in his own good time. Kate liked Thomas and Philip very much, particularly Philip.
By the time she returned to the kitchen, luncheon preparations were well underway. The turkey, which had been all trussed up and sitting goose-pimply without its feather coat before breakfast, had now been placed in the oven.
The long kitchen table was weighed down with the principle ingredients of what Mrs B called a ‘proper Christmas dinner’. Orange carrots still attached to their green fringes, creamy white parsnips in a neat row, earthy potatoes and a bowl overflowing with green knobbly sprouts.
‘What are those?’ Kate asked pointing at a bundle of long, spear-shaped things lying amongst the vegetables.
‘That’s asparagus,’ Mrs B answered, thrusting a knife into her hands. ‘A thing you’re never likely to taste at the price they are at this time of year! Now stop asking questions and let’s get on. It’s all hands to the pump, if we’re to sit down by one o’clock. Now get yourself over to that sink and peel those potatoes, thin peelings mind, we don’t want to be left with marbles to roast now, do we?’
And so, the clattering chaos of Christmas morning began. Orders were thrown in all directions to: ‘Chop that parsley, slice those onions, stir the bread sauce, something’s burning! Check that dripping, not too hot mind! Fetch a saucepan, no not thatone, get a bigger one. Kettle’s boiling, top the steamer. Don’t put that there. Saints preserve us!’
This last cry was emitted as Mrs B dropped the burning handle of a pan, spilling the milky contents over the top of the stove and collapsed into her favourite chair, flapping her apron at her apple red face. Mrs B was in a fluster, the potatoes weren’t boiling quickly enough and the turkey was browning too quickly. Mrs B shouted instructions that Eliza should get it out of the oven and place it on the side. The oven range steamed and throbbed with the demands of the feast. As fast as the two girls worked, it wasn’t fast enough and someone had put the gravy browning back in the wrong place and it couldn’t be found!
Kate brought Mrs B a glass of water and a cold compress for her hand and took over fanning her face with a tea towel. She wondered how the job of nursemaid had miraculously expanded to incorporate kitchen assistant, administer of first aid and general fetcher and carrier. As Eliza cleared up the spilt milk, Kate remembered that she still had to retrieve Clara’s shoes to remove the stains. She was relieved that the family present opening would take a while and she could concentrate on helping Mrs B and Eliza. They still had the task of serving the dinner ahead of them. By the time she got to eat her own Christmas dinner she’d be ready for bed!
Despite the early mishaps, Mrs B regained her composure and orchestrated the serving of all three courses to perfection. When the figgy pudding had been flamed and eaten and the coffee served, Kate was instructed to fetch the children’s coats and the family prepared for their carriage ride. There was high excitement amongst the younger children and she was having trouble getting them to calm down. The twins were fighting over whose muffler was whose and Thomas said he couldn’t possibly leave without his notebook to record what they saw. Philip was trying to explain that the carriage would be too bumpy to writeand draw and the volume of noise was increasing. Mr Winton appeared at the top of the staircase and stunned them all into silence with just one word: ‘Stop!’.
Kate and the children waited while he descended the staircase. Kate felt like she was amongst a group of scared rabbits, faced with a hungry fox. When Mr Winton reached the bottom he simply walked in measured strides to the silent group. His voice might have been quiet but his stare and the low, determined tone of his voice made Kate fearful of what he could be capable of if he ever lost his temper. His controlled anger was enough to make the children obey and they each finished dressing in silence.
Mrs Winton joined them looking a little flustered and Eliza helped her into her fur-edged cape and gloves. As the family moved across the hall, Kate saw Mr Winton take his wife firmly by the arm and say something in a sharp, low voice that she couldn’t quite hear.
A sprinkling of snow blew into the hall when the Winton family finally departed for their ride. Kate shivered and went to help Eliza clear the table, relieved that no further mishaps had occurred.
‘Phew, glad that circus is over, for a few hours at least. We have a bit of breathing space while they’re out,’ Eliza said. ‘Come on, let’s get to it.’
