After the Snow. Susannah Constantine. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Susannah Constantine
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Историческая литература
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780008219659
Скачать книгу
seat and onto his lap. He felt warm and safe, as did the steering wheel when she placed her hands on the black plastic, next to his. Her father never even let her sit in the front of the car, let alone on his knee to help drive. She had once got on his lap but he had told her to get off. ‘You’re not a dog, Esme.’

      ‘All right: lean forward, the car needs all the help it can get. Come on, old friend, you can do it. Push!

      He eased his foot down on the accelerator and they lurched forward, wheels spinning as the engine roared, heaving the car forward. With ox-like strength and almost human willpower, they made it over the brow of the hill and shot forward along the now-level road.

      ‘Well done, Esme! I couldn’t have done that without you.’

      Flushed with pride, she couldn’t wait to tell her father and Sophia how she had helped rescue their mother.

      ‘Now, you’d better hop back, what with being on a public road. It wouldn’t do for us to get stopped by the police. We’d all miss Christmas lunch and I’d be terrified to be on the end of Mrs Bee’s wrath if her turkey went to waste.’

image

      As they drove into the stable yard an avenue of noble horses peered out at them with a lazy interest. Jimmy’s livery was home to sixteen hunters and it always made Esme feel proud of him that four of them belonged to the Prince of Wales. Many people wondered why a Prince chose Jimmy’s place to keep his horses when he stayed at the nearby Balmoral, especially when it was so messy and chaotic. But Esme knew as well as the Prince that Jimmy was the best rough rider in the Highlands and when the horses were presented at the meet, their owners knew their horses’ coats would be gleaming and that they would gallop like machines because they had been ridden out every day of the week and schooled over natural fences. You couldn’t put a price on safety when hunting, and a bit of muck here and there was far better than a broken neck.

      Esme crossed her fingers and prayed that her mother was there. As they entered the main house, she could hear wild laughter coming from inside and one of the voices definitely belonged to a woman.

      Climbing over various dogs and high-top boots dull with unbuffed polish, the smell of wet fur and drying leather filled the small kitchen. She and the Earl walked into the living room to find Jimmy and Diana doubled up with mirth and holding tumblers – the ones Jimmy collected with his Green Shield Stamps from the petrol station. Esme was so relieved she felt like crying.

      ‘Oh darling, you’re here,’ said her mother, looking at the Earl, and for a moment Esme felt confused. She had expected to see her mother as she had been when they were separated; slow, confused and unsure.

      ‘I knew it wouldn’t take long for you to find me. Henry, you are far too clever. Will I never be able to hide from you?’

      ‘This is not a joke, Diana. Your daughter was extremely worried,’ said the Earl.

      ‘Esme, sweetheart,’ said her mother, ‘you know me: free as a bird and with a will of my own. I tell you, Henry, I could bloody kill my husband for leaving me alone in this weather. But then again, if he hadn’t I would have had to endure drinks with all your ghastly friends. Instead, Jimmy has been filling me in on all the gossip. Poor Mrs Polk was left for dead out hunting yesterday. Knocked clean out after a fall. When she came round she thought she was at a cocktail party and started offering the whips drinks. It’s too funny. Imagine: “Tim, would you like red or white?” while she’s covered in mud and blood pours from her nose. She’ll be mortified, should she remember. She does so love the importance of her position as chief gate-shutter, poor love.’

      It was a long time since Esme had heard her mother utter so many words at once.

      ‘Diana, I… We were worried. Esme and I have come to take you home.’

      ‘Yes, Mummy. I thought you were lost,’ said Esme, finding her voice.

      ‘Sweetie, I’m fine. And angel, you are adorable to come and rescue me. You care, I know you do, darling, and I’m sorry if I worried you. But look, everything has worked out perfectly. Come here and give me a kiss.’

      ‘You didn’t seem fine, Mummy, and if you were then why did you leave me on my own? Why didn’t you tell me you’d changed your mind and were coming here?’ All of a sudden Esme felt overcome with sadness, as if her mother really didn’t care about her at all.

      ‘Well, I didn’t think I was and when I lost you I got confused and went back to the church. And there, would you believe it, was darling Jimmy.’

      Esme looked at Jimmy for an explanation.

      ‘That’s right. I left my wallet and had to go back to fetch it,’ he said.

      ‘That’s not strictly true. Jimmy put five pounds in the collection box by mistake so he returned to take it back. Isn’t that right, Jimmy?’

      ‘Well, yes, but I replaced it with one pound. I’m not that much of a tight-arse.’

      ‘So there we go. Come, Esme, come and sit next to me. Am I forgiven?’ She looked at the Earl as she said this.

      Reluctantly, yet unable to resist, Esme went over to the sofa where her mother enfolded her in her arms.

      She kissed her and whispered, ‘Darling Esme, my darling, darling little squirrel.’

      ‘Oh, Your Lordship,’ said Jimmy, as the Earl let out a big sigh. ‘Just sit down and have a drink. It’s Christmas for goodness’s sake. Come on Esme, what would you like? There’s some ginger beer in the fridge or make something yourself with the soda siphon.’ Jimmy’s accent was as thick as the smell of alcohol in the room.

      The Earl accepted a glass filled with a golden liquid that shone through the crystal.

      ‘Happy Christmas, to us all. So nice to have the family together,’ Jimmy said, roaring with laughter.

      Esme left the room to fetch her drink. Jimmy’s kitchen was as familiar to her as her own. She had been going to the farm since she was four, when she first started hunting. Jimmy had taught her to ride and took her and her fat Shetland pony on the lead rein until she was confident enough to ride to hounds on her own. In those days her mother would drive her to the meet and follow the hunt, forever concerned that she might have an accident. Jimmy had no such qualms. As far as he was concerned Esme was made of rubber and would bounce if she took a fall.

      She wondered now how her mother could go from being so quiet and sad to being so cheerful. Her moods could change unbelievably quickly; in church, Esme had been scared she was going to faint. But anyway, at least she was happy now. She was always happy with Jimmy.

      Esme poured herself a pint glass of fizz, grabbed an apple from the chipped fruit bowl and, after grabbing her coat, went outside into the yard, causing a sleeping lercher to yelp as she accidentally stepped on its paw.

      ‘Sorry, Mumfie. Didn’t see you there.’

      From the stables, there came a collective whinny from horses always on the lookout for their next feed. A whiskery nose poked up, just visible above its door. It was Homer, standing on tiptoes to make himself noticed, Esme thought. He was pleased to see her. Suddenly she felt as if a balloon had been let out in her chest.

      Was Homer the only one in her family who was pleased to be with her? Even on Christmas Day it seemed her mother would rather be with Jimmy. Her father had been happy for her to go alone to find her mother and she hadn’t even seen Sophia at the castle. At least Lexi and the Earl had been kind to her.

      ‘Hello, fella. Happy Christmas. Did you miss me? Have you had a nice day? Did Jimmy give you extra oats? You good boy. You know that Father Christmas bought you some lovely things. A curry comb and a dandy brush to make your mane all silky. And you won’t have to have a cold saddle next to your skin now ’cause you have a brand new sheepskin saddle pad. Imagine that? Here’s a fella; a