‘Señor Lord, you cannot stand around here chit-chatting in your underwear.’
A giggle came from behind us, and we turned to see Seraphina and Caspian standing in the doorway of the kitchen, clutching each other in glee at the sight of their grandfather in his pants.
‘Oh yes, rather, very sorry, I’ll go and put something on and be right down.’
He scuttled off upstairs, and we returned to the kitchen to find the twins some pudding. He came back a few minutes later wearing a ludicrous turquoise silk dressing gown with black piping, in which he looked absolutely marvellous, and carrying some soggy bundled up clothes.
‘My sincere apologies to both of you. Penny, I hope you won’t let that dreadful first impression colour your opinion of me going forward.’
‘Er, no, not at all. Quite all right.’
Every first impression so far in this house had made me wonder if I’d be better off safely back in London, but William’s state of undress was on the lower end on the alarming scale. At least – I assumed – I wasn’t here to look after him as well.
‘You’re very kind. If you will allow me to explain. Once the Christmas grotto closed for the day – I work as Father Christmas at the department store – the elves and I decided to have a few refreshments. It can be quite a long and tiring day even for the jolliest of us. I mean, the children are mostly adorable, of course, and so excited, but…’
‘I quite understand,’ I said with sympathy in my voice. ‘I’m a primary school teacher.’
A smile of relief broke across his worried face.
‘Ohyes, youwillunderstand, perfectly. It’s thequestions, Penny, endlessquestions.Some little tinker asked me today what we do when a reindeer dies, and no amount of demurring on my part would put him off. In the end, I found an emergency candy cane which bought me sufficient time to say my bit, produce a present and shove him back in the direction of his doting mother. Anyway, so we were having a drink, just to relax the nerves, and unfortunately Snowflake, one of the elves –she’s actually called Deirdre and is married to a bank manager,’ he addedsotto voce, with a quick glance in the twins’ direction. ‘Snowflake knocked her second bottle of red wine all over my outfit. We tried to rinse it out immediately, but then of course I couldn’t put it on again. I got a lift home and thought I might make it upstairs without being seen, but alas, you heard my clumsy crashing and here we are.’
I almost gave him a round of applause for this wonderful speech but was too busy mulling over the fact that he felt he should conceal Snowflake’s true identity from the twins but not her drinking habits. I had a lot to learn about the Lord family.
‘Okay, Señor Lord, give me those wet things, they drip on the floor.’
‘Dear Pilar, are you sure? I can wash them…’
He trailed off pathetically, a master of his art.
‘Give them to me.’
She snatched the bundle and bore it off to the washing machine, grumbling the whole time but clearly as happy as a clam. William beamed at me.
‘Order is restored. Now, Penny, why don’t you get those two off to bed and we’ll open some more wine, and you can tell me all about yourself and how you came to be spending Christmas with us?’
As I steered the twins upstairs, grabbing my bags on the way, which were still sitting forlornly outside the front door, I thought that this Christmas was going to be anything but sensible. What remained to be seen was whether or not that was a good thing.
THREE
I woke early the next morning; it was still dark. My mind racing, and knowing I had no hope of getting back to sleep, I switched on the lamp beside my bed and thought about all that had happened the day before. Bunny had surfaced, briefly, to kiss Seraphina and Caspian goodnight and show me my bedroom, but then returned to her room and not even come down for supper. She had looked drained, very different from the woman who had breezed into Lando’s studio earlier in the day, and I wondered if she was unwell. Maybe it was just life taking its toll. It can’t have been easy trying to look after two lively children at the same time as finishing her Christmas commissions. I had seen some of her work, and it was astounding: delicate, whimsical watercolours that conjured up images of Christmases past and were appealingly sentimental. Cards for the printer to make up multiple packs had, of course, been finished weeks ago; the pieces she was doing now were one-offs for wealthy clients and, it seemed to me, some particularly entitled friends.
I had gone back downstairs to find William in the kitchen with, as promised, a bottle of wine open and a glass waiting for me. He even persuaded Pilar into having a drop as she put the finishing touches to supper, and when no one else appeared, we ate together around the kitchen table, one of the nicest meals I have ever had. It wasn’t only the food, but the company – light, friendly and comfortable. I thought back to dinners I had had with Timothy’s parents and felt very glad that Christmas would be spent at the Lords’ table and not theirs. Timothy could be ponderous and had a tendency to lecture rather than converse; his father was the same. His mother, who looked permanently panicked, and I had all but given up trying to join in and would sit in near silence as they mansplained politics, economics, social theory and even education without ever asking for our input or opinion. As William chattered away, asking me all about myself, checking up with Pilar about her infirm sister and wondering what we thought was the best way to teach children classic literature, I wondered why I had put up with Timothy all those years. I suppose I had thought that was ‘the way it was’, that you got together with a man and then spent the next fifty years slightly dissatisfied, which was the path that many of my friends had embarked on. I certainly couldn’t blame my parents, who had a wonderful relationship, always laughing together and never moaning at each other about socks on the floor or stacking the dishwasher wrong. Maybe because they seemed to be the exception, I thought that such ease was unrealistic to aim for and that I should be grateful for Timothy.
I pulled myself up to sitting and looked around the lovely room I had been given, as a way to distract myself. It was too early in the morning to be ruminating over Timothy, or any man, I thought, remembering my resolution. I was lying in a large double bed with a cosy, rustling duvet and cloudlike pillows. Before I got in last night, I had had to remove six cushions of varying sizes, all in different shades of pink ranging from softest rose to a rich magenta. I wondered who had selected them and whether it could possibly have been Lando, but given his indifference to the sicky carpet, it seemed unlikely. The rest of the room was pink and cream, which makes it sound like the bedroom of an eight-year-old, whereas it was, in fact, extremely sophisticated. A sunburst mirror glowed above the velvety padded headboard and botanical paintings of roses adorned the other walls. The window looked out over the lawns, concealed now by floor-length damask curtains, and a door led to an immaculate en-suite bathroom, in swirly pink and cream marble. I had never stayed anywhere so beautiful; just the room itself felt like an adventure.
Picking up my phone, I took a few photos and WhatsApped them to my parents. They had been pleased to hear that I was having a change of scene over Christmas, and although this room wasn’t remotely their style, I knew they’d find it fun to see what luxury I’d landed in. Glancing at the clock, I realised I had whiled away nearly three quarters of an hour, and although it was still very early, I slid out of bed and padded quietly down the corridor to see if the children were awake. They were both sleeping peacefully, and the house was in silence, so I returned to my room and waded through the deep carpet for a little luxury: a morning bath. This certainly didn’t feel like work, but as I lay in the warm, fragrant water, I found it hard to relax. Kind though Bunny and William undoubtedly were, and the twins undeniably sweet, I wondered if they would end up being too high maintenance for me. I had been so determined to get away from home and all the painful memories that I hadn’t asked enough about what the job really entailed. I had believed Bunny when she had told me about the job, buteveryonehere seemed to be in need of looking after, and I wasn’t sure if I was up to the job.
Maybe I should have stayed at home and put a note on my front door like Winnie the Pooh, saying I was out, busy and back soon, none of which would have been true.Then I could have holed up with a dozen Christmas films and an enormous chocolate panettone and passed the festive season in peaceful solitude. But even as these thoughts passed through my head, I knew that it would only have made me more miserable to be alone; at least here I would be kept busy, there was little doubt of that. I would simply focus my attentions on the children, avoid Lando and have friendly relationships with everyone else. With this pep talk spurring me on, I dried off and got dressed.
It was about seven o’clock when I left the room and went to peer around the twins’ bedroom door. They were both still fast asleep under their Paddington duvets, as they clutched their essential night-time items: not teddies for these two, of course. Seraphina had some horrendously expensive nightgown of her mother’s, oyster-coloured silk with soft lace edging, and Caspian was snuggled up to an inflatable parrot that he had been given to attend a ‘Talk Like a Pirate’ day at school. Smiling at the eccentric pair, I closed the door softly and went downstairs, where I found Pilar busy in the kitchen.
‘Good morning.’
‘Ah,buenos días, Penélope.How are you?’
‘Very well, thank you. You?’
‘Sure, I am fine. What would you like for breakfast? Go through to the living room, I bring it for you.’
