Breaking the Chain by Maggie Makepeace Page B

their garden and she was at the back door. Phoebe often thought that even were she to play the bagpipes at full blast between screams, he would still be happily oblivious, pottering about absorbed in his own affairs, with his ears turned off. She was being unfair, she knew she was. No one in the other rooms of the big house would hear anyone calling in the kitchen. The walls were too thick; the distances too great. She went on with her mental list: chestnut stuffing already elegantly prepared by Fay. Forcemeat stuffing for the neck still to be done. Bread sauce to start. Christmas pudding waiting on its trivet all set to steam … sprouts and leeks could be done later. Spuds (two sorts) first, and parsnips, then carrots. Fay had brought her own home-made brandy butter. The clotted cream was in the fridge. We need some actual brandy later, Phoebe thought, to flame the pudding, and a sprig of holly with berries to go on top. Perhaps the boys could find me one.
    ‘Did you shout? We were just out in the hall,’ Fay said, coming in with a sulky-looking Jack, doll in hand. She looked harassed.
    ‘I haven’t got a watch,’ Phoebe said. ‘I was hoping to borrow Duncan’s.’
    ‘Have mine,’ Fay said, slipping her hand through the gold bracelet and handing it to Phoebe.
    ‘Are you sure?’ Phoebe asked. ‘It looks dangerously expensive. What if I splash it with gravy?’
    ‘I want to watch TV!’ Jack demanded in a shrill whine. It was clearly not the first time he had made his wishes known.
    ‘Darling,’ Fay said patiently, ‘I told you just now, Granny hasn’t got a telly this year. I’m very sorry but there it is.’
    ‘She had one last week,’ Phoebe said surprised, putting the watch on.
    ‘She
says
it broke down the day before yesterday, so she got rid of it,’ Fay said, pursing her lips sceptically. ‘I think it’s a plot to force the young to, quote, “do something more intelligent”.’
    ‘At Christmas?’ Phoebe was scandalized.
    ‘Wonderful timing as ever,’ agreed Fay.
    ‘NOW!’ shouted Jack.
    ‘How about opening some presents?’ Phoebe suggested to him.
    Fay frowned a warning. ‘No,’ she said, ‘he’s already opened all but the major ones. Hope seems to have a new rule this year, expounded at great length last night. She says that they shouldn’t be opened until after lunch, because
presents are not the most important part of Christmas.’
She put on a Hope-like voice to convey her disgust.
    ‘She hasn’t suddenly got religion?’ Phoebe asked.
    ‘No, she’s just being bloody-minded. It’s a sort of power game with her; keeping us on tenterhooks until
she
gives us the go-ahead, and not before.’
    ‘Terrific,’ Phoebe said.
    ‘I’m bored!’Jack said crossly.
    ‘How about playing with some of the toys you got in your stocking?’ Fay suggested, looking down and ruffling his hair affectionately, ‘upstairs in your bedroom.’
    ‘You come too!’ Jack ordered, pulling at her hand.
    ‘Just a minute and I will. I must just talk to your Auntie Phoebe first.’ She looked up again. ‘Have you got the bird in yet?’
    ‘Already? It’s …’ Phoebe glanced at Fay’s watch, ‘… only seven o’clock. God, I feel as though I’ve been here for hours, but it’s only been one so far!’
    ‘I don’t know about you, but I always give a turkey a bit extra. It can sit in the oven and wait if it’s done too soon, but if it’s underdone, it’s a disaster. Stop it, Jack! Mummy’s coming now.’
    ‘Right,’ Phoebe said, turning the oven on. ‘You’re the expert. I’ll get the brute stuffed straightaway then, and shove it in.’
    ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Fay asked. ‘I feel so guilty, letting you do most of the work. Please, Jack, don’t keep on doing that! Sorry, Phoebe, I’d better go and amuse this tyrant.’
    Phoebe smiled down at Jack. He gave her a cunning look and dragged his mother off in triumph. Mmmm, thought Phoebe, I shan’t let mine order me