‘Mum, I’m going to have to go home soon. Do you have much more to do?’
Thankfully she didn’t, and we met Coco and were soon heading back to Blakeney Hall. By the time we arrived, I had perked up a little, and offered to help Coco prepare dinner. She accepted gladly and soon we were chopping onions and enjoying some cheesy Christmas music on the radio.
‘What do you think about pudding?’ she asked, pulling the lid off a large tin of tomatoes. ‘I was going to make Christmas stollen, but I’ve run out of time by a few hours. There’s ice cream in the freezer, but I’m not sure anyone will want that.’
‘I agree,’ I said. ‘It’s too chilly to enjoy it properly. I really love warm things at this time of year – like hot chocolate. But I suppose you can’t really give that for pudding.’
A glint came into Coco’s eye.
‘Actually, we could, if we dress it up a bit? I know a gorgeous recipe for orange spiced biscuits – if you can take over this pasta sauce and get the bake in the oven, then I could knock them up quickly.’
‘Sure,’ I said, with more confidence than I felt. ‘If you tell me what to do. We should have marshmallows as well – have you got any?’
‘Yes! Oh, but only big ones, no good for floating on hot chocolate.’
‘But perfect for toasting – outside, if there’s anywhere we could have a little fire?’
Coco grinned.
‘Yes, there’s actually one of those special dish things somewhere. I’m sure Dad or Alexander would get it out.’
‘Brilliant! I did an amazing outside party one winter, all this sort of thing. Actually, there’s one more thing we could add…’
I explained to Coco what we would need, and she told me where it all was. I assembled it on the kitchen table, and she had her biscuits out and cooling just as the pasta bake timer pinged.
‘Perfect. We won’t have time to ice them, but that does make them easier to dunk.’
I felt proud carrying in the dish of pasta, even though my contribution to its creation had been minimal. Everyone devoured it, and once they had finished, Coco spoke up.
‘Fallon and I have come up with an idea for a different pudding tonight, and it’s going to be a collaborative effort.’ There were a few ‘oohs’, although Mum looked sceptical. Coco continued, ‘Dad, Alexander, could you get the fire pit working, do you think?’
‘No problem,’ said Alexander, standing up. ‘Theo and I were using it last week. Can he come and help? He’s very good at building up the sticks.’
‘Not this time, I’m afraid,’ I said with a smile. ‘I need him and anyone else who’d like to, to come and do another job.’
Theo glanced at his father, who gave him a nod and a big smile, so while Douglas and Alexander headed off outside, deep in a discussion about kindling, the rest of us repaired to the kitchen, where I had laid out everything we would need.
‘So, we’re going to make some Christmas lanterns to light our way,’ I said. ‘Someone can tie the string onto the jam jars as handles?—’
‘Sounds like a job for me,’ interjected Constance.
‘Great. Then we need to mix together this big bag of coarse salt with some of this white biodegradable glitter and put some in the bottom of each jar to make them look snowy – Theo, I thought you’d be good at that.’
‘Okay,’ he said, nodding.
‘And Mum, when each jar is ready, can you light a tealight and nestle it into the salt with tongs?’
‘Certainly,’ she said, no doubt relieved to be given a clean job that wouldn’t risk her manicure.
‘Coco is going to make some hot chocolate and I’ll take out the biscuits and marshmallows.’
Everyone got busy and I went outside to find Douglas and Alexander presiding over a fire that was already burning merrily. They had arranged some garden chairs and benches so that everyone had somewhere to sit, and found a couple of chunks of log to serve as tables.
‘Can I throw some of this on?’ I asked, holding out a bag that had been slung over my shoulder. ‘It’s cinnamon sticks and some citrus peel that Coco dried out a bit in the oven while we were eating. It should smell lovely.’
As we added the seasonal scraps to the fire, the others emerged from the house and walked slowly towards us, their lanterns casting a sparkling, ethereal glow. Soon we were allgathered around the fire’s warmth, mugs beside us as we darted our marshmallows in and out of the fire on their skewers. As I glanced round the content faces and took in the perfect wintery scene, I also realised that not one of us had taken out our phones to capture this eminently Instagrammable moment; we were simply enjoying it.
The next morning, I rose early again and took Runcible out for her walk, much more comfortable in my new, warm clothes than I had been yesterday. This time we walked right up to the back of the gardens, where they edged the bleak moors, and I stood for a while staring out over them while Runcible nosed around in the frosty undergrowth. I could see why great romances had been set in these atmospheric surroundings, but the wuthering of the wind didn’t do much for me and I turned to go back, calling to my little dog to join me. Unusually for her, she didn’t run straight back to me, but darted towards a scraggy hedge and yapped.
