known.
***
How sharply it came back, thought Miss Quinn, that memory of thirty years ago! The shock of her enlightenment was some measure of the joy she had formerly felt in the myth of Father Christmas. She was glad that Jenny and Robin were still ardent believers, and she must try and make sure that Hazel, on the brink of knowledge, did not suffer as she had done as a child, and did not tarnish the glitter for the younger ones.
Somewhere, in some distant copse, a fox gave an eerie cry.
The scudding clouds parted briefly, and a shaft of moonlight fell across the bed.
The night was made for sleeping, said Miriam to herself, and tomorrow there was much to be done. There were children to be tended, Eileen to visit, provisions to organize, and all to be accomplished amidst the joyous frenzy of Christmas Eve.
Resolutely, she applied herself to sleep.
Chapter 7
CHRISTMAS EVE
S HE AWOKE , much refreshed, still with the memories of past Christmas times about her, and determined to make the present one happy for the children.
It was still dark, but she could hear children's voices. Perhaps they were already dressed? She put her warm feet upon the chilly linoleum and went to the door. The house felt icy.
Sure enough, the two little girls were scampering about the long passage half-dressed. They greeted her with cries of joy, and bounced into her room unbidden. Wails from Robin could be heard in the distance.
"Oh, he's all right," said Hazel casually. "Daddy's put him on his potty, and he doesn't want to go. That's all."
Jenny was fingering Miriam's hairbrush.
"I've asked Father Christmas for one like this," she said.
Hazel's lip began to curl in a derisory manner, and Miriam, recalling her nighttime memory, put a hand on her arm. There was no mistaking the alert glance that the child flashed at her. She knew all right!
Remembering Lovell's meaning shake of the head so long ago, she repeated the small gesture to his daughter. The child half-smiled in return, squeezed the restraining hand upon her arm, and remained silent.
That, thought Miriam thankfully, was one hurdle surmounted!
"What do you have for breakfast?" she enquired, tactfully changing the subject.
"Cornflakes, or shredded wheat," said Hazel.
"Sometimes toast, if there's time," said Jenny.
"What does Daddy have?" asked Miriam, secretly thinking that Eileen should surely cook a breakfast, if not for the children, then for a man off to his parish duties in the coldest part of England.
"The same," they chorused.
"Go and get dressed," said Miriam, "and I'll make toast for us all, and perhaps a boiled egg."
"Oh, lovely!" squealed the children. "Let's go and tell Robin!"
They fled, leaving Miriam to have the bathroom in peace.
***
At breakfast, Miriam broached the practical problem of catering for the household for four days. The basic things seemed to be in the house, and she knew that there were Brussels sprouts, cabbages, and carrots in the vegetable garden.
A Christmas pudding stood on the pantry shelf, but she would have to make mince pies and other sweets, and where was the turkey—or was it to be a round of beef?
Lovell was vague. He rather thought a friend of theirs was supplying the turkey, but he would have imagined it should have been delivered by now.
"Will it be dressed?" asked Miriam, with considerable anxiety. She might be Sir Barnabas's right hand, but she knew her limits. Drawing a fowl was not among her talents.
"Dressed?" queried Hazel, egg spoon arrested halfway to her mouth. "What in?"
Gales of giggles greeted this sally.
"A bonnet," gasped Jenny, "and shawl! Like Jemima Puddleduck. That's what turkeys dress in!"
The two little girls rolled about in paroxysms of mirth. Lovell cast his eyes heavenward, in mock disdain.
"Dressed means ready to put in the oven," explained Miriam, laughing.
"I know a boy at school who can pull out the tubes and smelly bits," said Hazel, recovering slightly. "Is that what you mean?"
"Exactly,"
***
How sharply it came back, thought Miss Quinn, that memory of thirty years ago! The shock of her enlightenment was some measure of the joy she had formerly felt in the myth of Father Christmas. She was glad that Jenny and Robin were still ardent believers, and she must try and make sure that Hazel, on the brink of knowledge, did not suffer as she had done as a child, and did not tarnish the glitter for the younger ones.
Somewhere, in some distant copse, a fox gave an eerie cry.
The scudding clouds parted briefly, and a shaft of moonlight fell across the bed.
The night was made for sleeping, said Miriam to herself, and tomorrow there was much to be done. There were children to be tended, Eileen to visit, provisions to organize, and all to be accomplished amidst the joyous frenzy of Christmas Eve.
Resolutely, she applied herself to sleep.
Chapter 7
CHRISTMAS EVE
S HE AWOKE , much refreshed, still with the memories of past Christmas times about her, and determined to make the present one happy for the children.
It was still dark, but she could hear children's voices. Perhaps they were already dressed? She put her warm feet upon the chilly linoleum and went to the door. The house felt icy.
Sure enough, the two little girls were scampering about the long passage half-dressed. They greeted her with cries of joy, and bounced into her room unbidden. Wails from Robin could be heard in the distance.
"Oh, he's all right," said Hazel casually. "Daddy's put him on his potty, and he doesn't want to go. That's all."
Jenny was fingering Miriam's hairbrush.
"I've asked Father Christmas for one like this," she said.
Hazel's lip began to curl in a derisory manner, and Miriam, recalling her nighttime memory, put a hand on her arm. There was no mistaking the alert glance that the child flashed at her. She knew all right!
Remembering Lovell's meaning shake of the head so long ago, she repeated the small gesture to his daughter. The child half-smiled in return, squeezed the restraining hand upon her arm, and remained silent.
That, thought Miriam thankfully, was one hurdle surmounted!
"What do you have for breakfast?" she enquired, tactfully changing the subject.
"Cornflakes, or shredded wheat," said Hazel.
"Sometimes toast, if there's time," said Jenny.
"What does Daddy have?" asked Miriam, secretly thinking that Eileen should surely cook a breakfast, if not for the children, then for a man off to his parish duties in the coldest part of England.
"The same," they chorused.
"Go and get dressed," said Miriam, "and I'll make toast for us all, and perhaps a boiled egg."
"Oh, lovely!" squealed the children. "Let's go and tell Robin!"
They fled, leaving Miriam to have the bathroom in peace.
***
At breakfast, Miriam broached the practical problem of catering for the household for four days. The basic things seemed to be in the house, and she knew that there were Brussels sprouts, cabbages, and carrots in the vegetable garden.
A Christmas pudding stood on the pantry shelf, but she would have to make mince pies and other sweets, and where was the turkey—or was it to be a round of beef?
Lovell was vague. He rather thought a friend of theirs was supplying the turkey, but he would have imagined it should have been delivered by now.
"Will it be dressed?" asked Miriam, with considerable anxiety. She might be Sir Barnabas's right hand, but she knew her limits. Drawing a fowl was not among her talents.
"Dressed?" queried Hazel, egg spoon arrested halfway to her mouth. "What in?"
Gales of giggles greeted this sally.
"A bonnet," gasped Jenny, "and shawl! Like Jemima Puddleduck. That's what turkeys dress in!"
The two little girls rolled about in paroxysms of mirth. Lovell cast his eyes heavenward, in mock disdain.
"Dressed means ready to put in the oven," explained Miriam, laughing.
"I know a boy at school who can pull out the tubes and smelly bits," said Hazel, recovering slightly. "Is that what you mean?"
"Exactly,"
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