Naked Truths (33 page)

They were sitting round a long, mahogany table. Ambrose eyed Saffron the way a farmer would appraise a bullock at a country fair.

‘Where do you come from?'

‘I live in London. Chelsea. A place called Montague Mews.'

‘Where Caro Towey is living at the moment,' added Harriet. ‘It's really very pretty.'

Ambrose looked perplexed. ‘Caro who?'

‘Caro, Daddy. Camilla's sister.'

‘I thought she was called Belmont. Husband works in the City?'

‘Sebastian was her first husband. She's remarried to Benedict now, you know him.'

Ambrose harrumphed. ‘Woman's had more surnames than Elizabeth Taylor.'

Harriet flushed. ‘Hold on, Daddy, that's a bit unfair!'

‘Ignore him,' Frances said, shooting her husband a warning look. He was still in a combative mood from his encounter with the poachers earlier.

‘How long are you staying for, darling? You do know your father and I are going up to Leicestershire for New Year?'

At the other end of the table Ambrose was looking distinctly unimpressed at the prospect.

‘Not sure yet. There are still a few tickets left for the party at the Jolly Boot. I was going to ask Saffron if she'd like to stay for it.'

‘I've got plans in London, actually,' said Saffron quickly. A week in the countryside would be enough for her.

‘Not to worry, I can always find someone else to go with,' Harriet said.

Ambrose had been chewing his food as he listened to the exchange.

‘Your family from London, are they?' he asked Saffron.

‘I live with my aunt, Velda. There's just the two of us.'

‘What about your father?'

‘He died.'

‘Oh. Mother?'

Harriet laughed nervously. ‘Come on, Daddy, stop giving poor Saffron the third degree!'

Sensing Saffron's discomfort, Frances expertly changed the subject.

‘Harriet tells me your aunt is a sculptor, Saffron. I've always thought that must be
fascinating
. . .'

After dinner, the four retreated to a small sitting room off the main hallway to watch
The Vicar of Dibley
. Frances and Ambrose eventually retired to their separate bedrooms while Harriet and Saffron stayed by the fire drinking red wine and chatting.

It was gone midnight by the time Saffron climbed between the cold bed sheets, in pyjamas, hooded jumper and her thickest pair of socks. She had been dreading having to mind her Ps and Qs, but the Frasers had made her feel very welcome. Even though they seemed hard on Harriet sometimes, it was obvious Frances and Ambrose adored their only child.

Saffron couldn't help feeling a pang of envy. Switching off the light, she lay back and let the darkness envelop her.

‘I miss you, Daddy,' she whispered.

DOWN IN THE
heart of the village, Caro had been preparing for her family's arrival. She'd arrived at Mill House a few days ago to find the electrics had blown, and a sleepy dormouse had somehow got in and made a new home in one of Benedict's Wellingtons. Luckily he'd shaken them out before putting them on for their walk.

Once the electrician had been called and order restored, everyone pulled together to get the house ready for Christmas. Clementine lent Brenda Briggs for the morning to clean the bits Caro's bump couldn't get to, but Caro still had to go round with the Hoover afterwards to get all the fluff and dirt Brenda had mysteriously missed. Caro and Amelia had then gone into Bedlington to do a huge shop at Waitrose, while Benedict put up the decorations.

After lunch Benedict took Milo off to a local farm to pick up an eight-foot Christmas tree to go in the corner of the living room. The little boy was beside himself with excitement at the thought of another tree to decorate.

Caro and Amelia were sitting at the kitchen table with a pot of tea and the remains of a chocolate Yule log between them. Caro had hoped getting away from London would help her sister-in-law; she felt there was something about living there that was upsetting Amelia.

The day before she'd left, she'd found Amelia crying in the kitchen. Amelia had quickly brushed away the tears and said it was the time of the month, but when Caro had gone to use the phone afterwards, she'd found someone had left it off the hook. She'd had a few more silent phone calls herself, recently, and maybe she was being paranoid, but they only seemed to happen when Benedict wasn't there. It was almost as if someone was watching the place.

Amelia warmed her hands on her mug contentedly. ‘I didn't quite realize how nice it would feel to get away from it all. London, I mean.' To everyone's relief, there had already been a change in Amelia since they'd got back. Somehow she seemed freer and happier.

Caro decided now was the time to bring her concerns up; at least she and Amelia were talking properly again.

‘Darling, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about.'

‘Oh?'

‘It's these funny phone calls we've been having.'

Amelia leant back in her chair, arms crossed. The defensive gesture didn't escape Caro's notice. ‘What phone calls?'

Caro looked at her uncertainly. ‘You know, where I've gone to pick up and there's been no one there. I mean, they could all be wrong numbers, but there've been so many of them recently.'

Across the table Amelia's face had become distinctly wintery.

‘Then there was that awful devil mask at the window. I mean, it scared the life out of all of us, but, Amelia, you seemed really terrified by it.'

‘So what are you saying?' Amelia's voice was hostile.

Caro gulped, she hated confrontation, especially with someone as dear to her as her sister-in-law.

‘I'm just saying, darling, that these things could be coincidence, but they have started since you've come to live with us.'

Amelia was up from her seat like an uncoiled spring. ‘You want me to move out? I've imposed on you and Benedict for long enough . . .'

Caro was horrified. ‘No, darling, that's not what we want at all!' She searched in vain for the right words. ‘Oh Amelia, I want to make sure you're all right, that's all.' Without realizing it, Caro's eyes had filled with tears. She was feeling tired and emotional as it was.

Instantly Amelia was round the table, throwing her arms around her. ‘Please don't cry! It's lovely how much you care about me, but I'm fine, honestly.'

‘You're sure?' Caro sniffed.

Amelia smiled at her. ‘Completely! Now come on, I just want us all to have a good Christmas. No more silly talk of phantom phone calls or faces at windows.' She pulled a mock-horror face, lightening the moment.

Caro couldn't help but laugh. Sod it, she probably
was
just being silly; her pregnancy hormones were in overdrive.

As Amelia went to leave the kitchen, she paused in the doorway. ‘You haven't told Benedict, have you? About the phone calls, I mean.'

Caro looked up from clearing the teacups. ‘No, I wanted to speak to you first.'

‘I wouldn't bother,' Amelia said lightly. ‘You know how he gets, he'll probably get a SWAT team trained on the house and keep us all prisoner.'

‘Darling!'

As soon as Caro opened the front door, Tink burst into happy tears. ‘You look radiant! Oh, I've missed you!' She threw her arms around her eldest daughter. Errol Flynn, who had come over with Clementine earlier, rushed round their legs barking madly.

Tink rubbed Caro's bump ecstatically. ‘You look further along this time. Doesn't she, Johnnie?'

‘Probably all the cakes I keep scoffing. You'd think I was eating for eight. Hello, Daddy!'

Johnnie Standington-Fulthrope, as tall and dashing as ever, stood behind his wife on the doorstep.

‘Hello, pumpkin!'

The barking intensified.

‘Errol Flynn!' they all chorused. ‘Do shut up!'

Through the melee, Calypso's voice rang out.

‘Can we hurry along the heartfelt reunions please? It's bloody freezing out here.'

As usual, Caro's youngest sister was dressed completely inappropriately for the weather in a neon pink minidress, low-slung belt with silver tassels hanging off it, and a black trilby hat. Her long caramel blonde hair was fashionably tousled, with what looked like pink streaks running through it.

She heaved a huge suitcase over the doorstep and dumped it on the hallway floor.

‘I'm surprised we even took off at JFK with that thing,' remarked Johnnie. ‘I'm sure I saw the back row being led off to make way for it.'

Caro giggled.

‘Oh shut up, Daddy!' said Calypso, grinning.

For the next ten minutes it was utter chaos, as everyone hugged and kissed each other. While the women sat talking and laughing in the living room, Benedict helped Johnnie with the rest of the suitcases. By the time the new guests were settled in their respective bedrooms and freshened up, it was nearly supper time. They congregated in the living room for a champagne toast.

‘Here's to a wonderful Christmas!' said Tink afterwards, raising her glass.

‘Hear, hear!'

Benedict had cooked a succulent fish pie stuffed with prawns and cod, and the whole family sat round the dining room table. Tink soon had them all in stitches about their new neighbours in Barbados, who were naturalists.

‘Esmé and Gerard, they're a frightfully nice couple in their fifties,' she said. ‘Although it is rather disconcerting when one looks out of one's bedroom window to see them playing tennis on the court at the end of their garden.' She giggled. ‘I had no idea things could jiggle so much!'

‘Your mother has applied for the job of ball-girl to bring in some extra money,' said Johnnie.

Everyone snorted with laughter, but on the other side of the table Clementine looked mildly disapproving.

‘Barbados is making you awfully vulgar, darling,' she told her son. Johnnie flashed a contrite grin.

‘Sorry, old stick! One's forgetting oneself. Anyway, you must fill us in on all the news. I hear the Bonfire Night raised a heap of money. We'd like to throw some in, too.'

Mollified, Clementine smiled at her son. ‘That would be wonderful.'

‘How's New York?' Caro asked Calypso.

‘Mental. I love it, though.' She looked at Amelia. ‘That reminds me, I've got those jeans for you.'

Tink smiled proudly. ‘Calypso's boss has been so pleased with all her hard work, she's just been promoted.'

‘Clever girl!' and ‘Congratulations!' rang out round the table.

‘Thanks, guys,' Calypso grinned. ‘I'll be working my butt off, but it's all good for the CV. I reckon I'll be out there another year or so, then I want to come back here and set up my own company.'

‘You should go into partnership with Harriet,' Caro told her. ‘She's doing that sort of thing at
Soirée
.'

Calypso laughed. ‘I can't imagine old Hats living it up in the Big Smoke! Good on her.'

‘I know! Going down a storm, apparently. I must admit, it's so nice to have her living round the corner.'

Benedict went to fetch another bottle from the kitchen, and Tink turned to Amelia.

‘And now you're at the mews! It's like a regular Churchminster convention.'

Amelia smiled. ‘Quite!'

‘What are your plans, darling? Are you going back to Moscow?'

‘I don't think so,' said Amelia carefully. ‘I'm just going to see how things go. As long as Caro and Benedict don't mind me staying.'

‘Of course not!' said Caro.

‘I've heard the clubs in Moscow are awesome,' Calypso said as she helped herself to seconds.

Amelia shrugged. ‘They're OK. One seems like all the others after a while.'

‘Did you land yourself an oligarch?' asked Calypso. ‘I wouldn't mind a Russian sugar daddy.'

‘Darling!' Clementine reprimanded her as the rest of the table giggled.

Amelia didn't laugh with them.

‘No, I didn't meet anyone special. But enough about me, I want to hear more about New York! I was thinking of coming out to visit you next year, actually.'

‘I can't tell you how good it is to be back,' said Tink later that night. Caro and her mother were standing in the spare room that looked out on to the village green. Through the window, lights from other houses shone out against the blackness. ‘I just wish Camilla was here as well,' said Tink sadly.

Caro slipped her arm round her mother's waist. ‘I'm sure she will be next year.'

‘I'm just being silly.' Tink rested her head on her daughter's shoulder and they looked out in the direction of Camilla's cottage. In the reflection in the glass, they could almost have passed for sisters.

‘Is Amelia all right?'

Caro turned and looked at her mother. ‘What makes you say that?'

‘I just thought she seems a bit flat.'

Caro hesitated. ‘Benedict thinks her depression is back again. Since she's got back from Moscow, she's barely left the house. I don't think she's seen any of her friends.'

‘Most unlike Amelia,' Tink agreed thoughtfully. ‘She seemed a bit short when Calypso mentioned the oligarchs earlier. Maybe she's having boyfriend trouble.'

But, Caro thought, if it were something as simple as that, surely Amelia would have told her. Wouldn't she?

ON CHRISTMAS EVE,
Saffron woke to the sound of chattering birdsong. Even though the dying embers of the fire were still warm in the grate, the cold morning air had started to creep in through the windows. Throwing on a hooded jumper, Saffron went to pull the heavy curtains back. It certainly was quite a view.

The estate lay before her, like a regal patchwork quilt. The rolling lawns, which went on for as far as the eye could see, were cloaked in an ethereal grey mist. Frost sprinkled the tops of the trees and the intricate carvings at the top of the fountain. Once again, Saffron marvelled at how peaceful everything was. At first she'd found the silence, punctuated only by the birds' morning chorus, almost deafening. Accustomed to the traffic and roar of London buses, roads in the country seemed almost empty by comparison. No one seemed in a rush to get anywhere; yesterday she and Harriet had driven to Bedlington to pick up some duck pâté for Frances, and had got stuck behind a huge mud-encrusted tractor on the way back. Their journey had taken almost forty minutes but rather than shake her fist in rage and beep her horn, Harriet had shrugged and trailed the tractor patiently nearly all the way home instead.