They all returned to the kitchen to open their packages, and though the butler glared at Lucy, it wasn’t the moment to upbraid her among all the bustle and excitement of present-opening.
Lucy had a set of six soft cotton hankies with yellow flowers all over them and trimmed with lace at the sides. She had never owned hankies and thought that ones like these were far too good just to wipe a person’s nose. She also had two pairs of black woollen stockings, which she knew would keep her legs warm all winter. Clodagh and Evie had the same. Jerry had hankies and three pairs of warm socks, but Mr Carlisle was given sparkling gold cuff links as well as the hankies and socks. Cook was given a shawl with a pretty brooch to fasten it, and Clara had a pretty pearl necklace.
Lucy, while admiring the presents of the butler, Cook and Mrs O’Leary, was more than pleased with hers, and the morning seemed to fly by because there was so much to be done. The servants’ dinner that day was stupendous – that was really the only word to describe it, Lucy thought.
Mr Carlisle agreed. ‘Ada,’ he said, ‘you have excelled yourself.’
Lucy had never heard Mr Carlisle address Cook as anything other than ‘Mrs Murphy’ before, and her eyes widened, especially when she saw Cook’s cheeks look more crimson that they did when she bent to withdraw something from the range oven.
She looked across to Clodagh, who winked in response, as Cook, almost simpering, said, ‘It’s very nice of you to say that, James.’
‘I’m only saying what everyone around this table is thinking,’ the butler said. ‘Isn’t that right?’
There was a murmur of agreement to this. Then the butler got to his feet, for he had to see if the male guests needed help getting dressed for dinner, and Jerry followed him. Norah had to do the same, for her Mistress and the female guests, and Lucy had to start on the mountain of washing up.
‘What was up with old Carlisle at dinner?’ Clodagh whispered as she passed Lucy.
‘I don’t know,’ Lucy said. ‘But I have heard him praise Cook before. He likes his food, does Mr Carlisle.’
‘Yeah, but I have never heard him call Cook “Ada” before. He’s had a little bit of the Christmas spirit, if you ask me’ Clodagh grinned. ‘I think he has been on the bottle.’
‘No!’ Lucy said, shocked.
‘Well, he keeps a bottle of whisky in his pantry,’ Clodagh said, knowledgeably. ‘Jerry told me.’
Lucy couldn’t quite believe it. The butler was so prim and proper. ‘Huh,’ she said, ‘I would take anything Jerry said with a pinch of salt.’
However, both girls had forgotten to lower their voices sufficiently and Cook shouted across the kitchen in a caustic tone, ‘I hate to break up the conversation or anything, but there is work to be done and I have no intention of doing it on my own.’
‘Sorry, Cook,’ Clodagh said, crossing to join her, and Lucy resumed washing the pots, deep in thought.
The staff were more or less free for the rest of the day because Lady Heatherington said after such a dinner a cold buffet would be all they would need to eat later.
‘So, what shall we all do with our time off?’ Clodagh asked.
‘Well, it’s not the weather for the walk, that’s certain,’ Norah said, crossing to the window. The early morning sun had long gone and, despite Jerry’s predictions of a fine day, the rain was coming down in sheets.
‘Well,’ said Cook, sinking into her chair with a grateful sigh, ‘I can think of nothing nicer than a snooze.’
‘No, no, Ada,’ Mr Carlisle said. ‘We can’t sleep away Christmas Day.’
‘Don’t see why not,’ Cook said truculently, just as Norah said, ‘We used to play blind man’s buff and charades on Christmas Day in Maxted Hall, didn’t we? Jerry, you must remember?’
‘Do you always have Christmas afternoon off then?’ Lucy asked.
Cook nodded. ‘Yes, but then it was usually only the family for Christmas: Lady Heatherington’s parents and some elderly aunts. But the aunts died and then her ladyship’s parents, too, just a year or so before the Master was injured. I always used to think it was a pity it wasn’t the Master’s mother who died, and I know that’s wicked of me but she is one body’s work.’
‘She is,’ agreed Norah. ‘And so bad-tempered.’
‘So where is she now?’
‘She is in this sort of rest home,’ Cook said. ‘She wanted to come here with the family, but her ladyship put her foot down. She said that she had enough on her plate with his lordship so ill, and then when he was discharged from hospital and they said he needed peace and quiet she knew that he would get little of that with his mother about.’
‘Between me, you and the gatepost that was one of the reasons she came so far away,’ Norah said.
‘I don’t think we should be discussing Lord and Lady Heatherington in this manner,’ Mr Carlisle said. ‘And certainly not in front of the younger girls.’
‘Oh, don’t be so stuffy, James,’ Cook said sharply. ‘We are doing no harm, and it is as well to warn them. They may well come across her yet, for we will not be in Ireland for ever. Anyway,’ she said, turning to Lucy, ‘that answers your question. Because the Master and Mistress have guests this Christmas, I didn’t know whether we would be given the time off or not, but I made things that could be served cold just in case and isn’t it a good job I did.’
‘Yes,’ Norah said. ‘It means that we can play blind man’s buff.’
‘Oh, do it if you want to,’ Cook said resignedly. ‘I suppose we will get no peace else, but don’t anyone try and blindfold me. I’m too old for such things but I will watch the rest of you.’
And so she did, and Mr Carlisle and Rory Green sat with her while Jerry, Norah, Clodagh, Evie and Lucy enjoyed themselves so much so that in the end even Clara and Mr Carlisle took a turn. Lucy watched the butler playing the fool with the others and wondered if Jerry was right after all and he had taken a drop of whisky, for he was not acting at all like the butler she had become accustomed to. She remembered describing him on her visit home and saying that everything had to be just so, and he sat and walked so straight it was like he had a poker up inside him. Minnie hadn’t approved of the analogy but the children had been laughing so much she hadn’t had the heart to correct her. Well, Mr Carlisle’s poker had slipped somewhat that afternoon and Lucy stored everything up to tell them all on her next visit.
She felt a stab of shame as she realised that, despite her wish, she would rather be here in the servants’ hall, warm, dry and well fed and having fun with friends, than home in that cheerless cold kitchen trying not to eat too much so that the others could eat more.
After a huge supper, the evening ended with songs from the music hall that the Irish girls didn’t know, though they soon picked up the choruses, and then carols they all joined in with.
‘Been a good day, though, hasn’t it?’ Evie said later as they got ready for bed.
‘Oh,
