![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : The Green Knight, Part 1 of 2
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Claudia/Ryan, Nicky Brown, Lester/OC, OCs
Disclaimer : Not mine (except the OCs) , no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 14,500 in two parts.
Summary : When Lester is invited to spent Christmas at Inglestone Hall with the Browns and Ryan, he’s hoping for a peaceful time, but life can’t always be relied on to cooperate.
A/N : 1) Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
louise_dennis for the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
primeval_denial Secret Santa for the prompts: Patterns in the Ice, The Giant under the Snow, It was at Christmas that the Green Knight came to King Arthur's Hall, Snow Queen 2) This takes place in the same series as The Devil’s Knell and Twelfth Night.
“Do you mind if I ask if you have any plans for Christmas, James?” Claudia asked, setting a mug of tea down on Lester’s desk.
“Thank you.” Lester cradled the mug in his hand and pushed his chair back from the desk, debating whether to tell the truth or fob her off with some platitude or other. He came down on the side of truth. Claudia Brown could see through a lie at 20 paces and would not hesitate to point out the error of his ways. “My wife is taking the children away somewhere with her new boyfriend for the weekend. Apparently his brother owns a stately pile in the country. My invitation appears to have gone astray in the post.”
“Is there no chance of a reconciliation?” There was no mistaking the sympathy in her warm brown eyes.
He shook his head. “I received the decree nisi yesterday. All that remains now is to agree the financial settlement and the arrangements regarding the children.”
Claudia perched on the arm of the black leather sofa. “I really am sorry, James.”
“So am I.” He smiled ruefully. “All I can do now is keep things civilised and continue to do my best to be a good father to my children.”
“Come to Inglestone Hall with Tom and I for Christmas. The anomalies have been quiet for nearly a month. Joel Stringer and his team are on shift and Stephen says he’ll make sure Cutter behaves himself.”
Lester was touched by her concern. “That’s very kind of you, but I couldn’t possibly impose. I’ve got several books to read, and I intend to get some healthy exercise for once and take some long walks.”
“Bring the books with you,” a fresh voice said from the doorway. “And there’s some good walking in Essex.”
Lester looked up in surprise at the good-looking dark-haired man with a close-cropped beard who was now lounging in the doorway. He wore a dark green Rohan jacket, a green sweater that had definitely seen better days, a pair of scruffy black jeans and an even more battered pair of walking boots that made him look like a hiker who’d dropped in on the off chance of a mug of tea and a bacon butty.
“Nicky!” Claudia jumped up and enveloped the visitor in hug.
Nicky Brown kissed her on both cheeks then sauntered over to the desk and extended his hand. Lester shook it warmly. He wasn’t surprised to see that his red silk tie was now sporting a haughty-looking Arctic fox, who was casting a baleful eye at Lester’s laptop and the pile of papers overflowing his in-tray. The fox always took a dim view of his work ethic at this time of year.
“You need a break, James,” Nicky declared. “And we’re short of someone to play King Arthur in the Inglestone Christmas performance of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.”
Lester allowed a look of total horror to settle on his face. “Tell me you’re not serious or I’ll have a quiet word with the Transport Minister and get your haulage contracts revoked.”
Nicky’s smile radiated innocence. “Would I lie to you? And don’t waste your time. When the minister fucked up by forgetting his kids’ birthday presents last week, I bailed him out with a special delivery.”
The Arctic fox grinned, showing just a hint of white teeth and the tip of a pink tongue lolling out of one side of his long muzzle.
Lester glanced down at his vulpine companion and sighed loudly.
The fox winked.
“I’d be delighted to accept,” Lester said, and meant it.
****
“How on earth did you manage to persuade him?” Ryan asked, not bothering to disguise his incredulity.
“Nicky used his charm. You don’t mind, do you, Tom?”
Ryan shook his head. “Not in the slightest. The divorce has hit him hard. There aren’t many marriages that can survive keeping this many secrets.”
Claudia slipped her arm around his waist. “I’ve never liked to ask, but was that what happened to you?”
Ryan rested his head on her shoulder, more thankful than he could ever put into words that he had Claudia Brown in his life now. “I was young and having the time of my life. She was stuck in Hereford with the rest of the wives and girlfriends. I’d either come back from an op high as a kite on adrenaline and get pissed with the lads or it would have all gone to ratshit and I’d still get pissed with the lads. Either way, I couldn’t talk about it with her. So yeah, the secrets didn’t help, but mostly I was too fucking young for a serious relationship. Married at 21, divorced at 25.”
She hugged him harder. “I’m sorry, Tom.”
“So was I. But it’s a long way in the past now. She’s married to an investment banker in Maidenhead, with a big house, two kids and a Labrador. And I’ve got you.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “Thanks for putting up with me.”
“You two are seriously adorable.”
“You’re meant to knock first, Nicky.” Claudia threw her brother an exasperated look. “The big round brass thing on the outside door. Or better still, use the bell, or is that a bit modern for you?”
“You’ve got a holly wreath on the door. That’s a standing invitation, isn’t it?”
“Could have been worse, he could have come down the chimney,” Ryan pointed out.
“Don’t encourage him,” Claudia said. “Although it does need sweeping …”
Nicky waved a casual hand at the fireplace. “Not any more it doesn’t.”
“Beer?” Ryan asked.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
“You’re looking shifty, Nicky,” Claudia commented as Ryan lobbed her brother an open bottle of beer.
Nicky plucked it out of the air without spilling a drop. “We need a Gawain and a Guinevere as well as an Arthur,” he admitted. “It’s Inglestone’s turn to provide the main players and Neil and Nessa say it’s your turn to do the honours.”
Claudia groaned. “I hate you. And I’m not too keen on mum and dad, either.”
Ryan looked from his girlfriend to her brother in mounting horror. “I do not do am-dram!”
“You do now,” Nicky said. “Sorry, mate, it goes with the territory. You’ll make an excellent Gawain. All dashing, reckless bravery and honour …”
“You do it!”
“Can’t. I’m the Green Knight.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Nicky’s smiled bordered on a smirk. “Because you’ve been going out with my sister for two years.”
“There’s not been any am-dram before.”
“Only happens once every three years. Old Inglestone village tradition. Goes back donkey’s years.”
“And you always play the Green Knight?”
Nicky glanced down at the dark green sweater that has just replaced the red one he’d arrived in. “Green suits me.”
****
Lester stared out of the window of his flat, watching as fat flakes of snow danced on a light breeze. The odds on a white Christmas had just dropped through the floor. The Daily Express was in such a paroxysm of delight that had, for once, pushed the latest conspiracy theory about the death of Princess Diana off the headlines.
He’d woken early, as he always did, and had been halfway into his work suit before remembering that – barring dinosaur-related apocalypses – he wasn’t dure back at work until the New Year. He didn’t even have to worry about driving his Mercedes to Essex, as he would be travelling to Inglestone Hall with Claudia and Ryan.
His bags were packed and ready, including the presents he’d chosen for his hosts and his colleagues, sitting ready in the hallway, together with a case of wine as his contribution to the festivities.
The butterflies in his stomach were dancing as cheerfully as the snowflakes swirling around outside the windows by the time his doorbell rang.
Nicky Brown smiled widely. “Your carriage awaits, Cinders, it’s time to go to the ball.”
“Is it drawn by white mice?”
“Nope. They’re on a work to rule and you’ve spent too long watching Disney films. I’ve brought the Range Rover. The roads are going to be treacherous tonight. Claudia and Ryan left an hour ago, but I had a meeting in Horseferry Road, so I said I’d be your driver.”
The gleaming red Range Rover parked on double yellow lines outside Whitehall Court was already covered in a light dusting of snow. A traffic warden walked past as they were loading the baggage into the back. The man smiled at them and walked on.
“Isn’t there some unwritten rule about only using your powers for good?” Lester said as he clipped his seatbelt into place.
“If there is, no one’s ever told me,” Nicky replied cheerfully. “But there is an exchange system for favours. The package he’s been waiting for that actually went astray in Dusseldorf will be on his mat by the time he gets home.”
The journey out of London was easier than Lester had expected, despite the now thick covering of white snow blanketing the roads and pavements. Every traffic light quickly turned green to accommodate them as the Range Rover smoothly made its way through the tail end of the rush hour traffic and made slow but steady progress along a bewildering procession of the highways and byways of Greater London, with Nicky avoiding the congestion on the main roads and motorways as around them the world turned steadily whiter.
“Can you call for the sleigh if we run aground in a snowdrift?” Lester asked, as Nicky dropped the vehicle into a lower gear to take them up a rise in the ground that had already defeated half a dozen cars.
“Oh ye of little faith … You’re out of luck, it’s Rudolf’s night off. He’s already sneakily exceeded the European Working Time Directive by several hours, so I’ve had to ground him until Monday.”
“You really do have reindeer called Rudolf?”
“Absolutely not. He’s a Megaloceros and his name’s Cian. And I don’t have him, it would probably be more accurate to say he has me. Or we have each other.”
“I look forward to meeting him,” Lester said, wondering quite how strange the visit was going to be.
Nicky laughed. “You deal with dinosaurs and rips in time on a daily basis. One megaloceros is hardly likely to be the strangest thing you’ve encountered.”
“Probably not,” Lester conceded.
“Go on then, we’ve a way to go yet, trot out some of your best dinosaur stories …”
****
“They’re here, mother!” Claudia called.
She pulled a shawl around her shoulders and slipped her feet into a pair of Wellington boots before hurrying down the wide stone steps and across the gravel driveway to where Nicky had parked the Range Rover.
Ryan followed at a slightly more sedate pace, watching as she threw her arms around Nicky in an unrestrained hug that nearly bowled him over, then subjected Lester to a slightly more restrained embrace. He smiled and kissed her on both cheeks.
The Arctic fox on Lester’s dark blue cashmere sweater looked on with its customary haughty expression. Nicky had clearly decided it was time Lester graduated from Christmas ties to Christmas sweaters.
With a resigned expression, Ryan looked down at his own sweater. When he’d walked down the steps, he’d been wearing an old grey jumper that had just about survived numerous team barbecues and had the scars to show for it, now he had on a soft black fleece sporting an entire flock of line-dancing penguins. Nicky had provided matching socks, too.
Ryan pulled the man into a one-armed hug. They’d fought together and nearly died together. That took them well past the stage of vague manly awkwardness. “Couldn’t I have had something butch like a grey wolf?”
“Sssh, you’ll hurt their feelings!”
Ryan automatically stroked the front of his sweater and the penguins gazed up at him adoringly.
“Nicky always insists on Christmas sweaters,” Claudia said apologetically.
“That’s fine, I like penguins.”
One of them promptly fainted with happiness.
“And I like foxes,” Lester added,
The white fox looked positive smug.
Lester was warmly welcomed by Vanessa and Neil Brown, then Ryan showed him to the guest room just across the corridor from Ryan and Claudia’s bedroom. A fire burnt brightly in the hearth and warm blankets had been piled on the bed in case the thick quilt wasn’t warm enough.
“The plumbing’s a tad eccentric at times,” Ryan said. “But there’s usually plenty of hot water.”
Two large windows looked out onto the inner courtyard. The thick covering of snow on the low box hedges gleamed brightly in cold silvery moonlight interspersed with the warm yellow glow from some of the windows. In the middle, stood a huge brown stag with impossibly large, branching antlers. A light dusting of snow flecked the creature’s thick, shaggy coat.
“I thought he was a statue when I first came here,” Ryan said.
“He’s magnificent. Does he really pull a sleigh?”
“Oh yes, Nicky’s a great believer in clichés. This’ll be the most cliché-ridden Christmas you’ll ever experience. You’ll have to help lug the Yule log in later. New guest’s privilege.”
Lester laughed softly. “Fucking hell, Ryan, I honestly used to think dinosaurs were the strangest thing that could happen to me, but this all takes some beating.”
“Claudia advised me not to over-think things. Just go with the flow. Life around here is easier that way. Drinks in the library are usually at 6pm. Casual dress. No one stands on ceremony in Inglestone. There’s tea and coffee stuff on the desk, and milk and booze in the fridge. The password for the wifi is Yuletide, capital Y, and there’s normally a decent mobile signal, so text me know if you need anything.”
Down in the courtyard, the stag threw his head back and let out a deep, rumbling cry, staring up at the pale moon.
“Welcome to Inglestone Hall,” Ryan said softly. “You’ll like it here.”
****
Lester made himself a mug of tea laced with scotch and took a relaxing shower then pulled on a pair of warm corduroy trousers, a fresh shirt and his Christmas sweater. The white fox gave him a knowing grin. The fox cubs on his socks chased themselves around and around his ankles before hiding in his sheepskin slippers.
On his way down to the library, the lack of dead things staring down at him from the wood-panelled walls made a refreshing change from the sort of thing he’d had to endure all too often at ministerial country house parties. Lester hated blood sports, something he’d always had in common with his soon-to-be-ex-wife. For all her upper-class background, Ophelia detested the sort of hooray thug who got their kicks killing for fun. When they’d gone to Buckingham Palace for his knighthood, she’d ended up in a passage of arms with Phil the Greek over the National Trust banning stag hunting (he’d been unimpressed and had said so at length). The honours in an unrestrained verbal battle had gone to her, but Lester had managed to separate them before she’d got onto his hypocritical patronage of the World Wildlife Fund.
He smiled at the memories. There had been plenty of good times, but the anomalies had been the final straw that had broken the camel’s back, coming on top of years of over-work as he’d fought to stay at the top of a cut-throat game. Now they had to keep things civilised for the sake of the children. At 14-going-on-40, Jo pretended to be taking it all in her stride, but ten-year-old Eddie had been hit hard by first the separation then the divorce.
Lester shook the thoughts off. He would speak to the children tomorrow. He’d made sure they had their presents to open even though he wouldn’t be with them, and theirs to him were now laid out on the window seat.
Warmth, laughter, and the smell of woodsmoke greeted him as he opened the door to the library. The sight that greeted him was his idea of heaven, with floor to ceiling bookcases and wooden ladders on a rail that ran around the top of the highest shelves. Leatherbound volumes jostled for space with modern books, everything from history to knitting. A huge stone fireplace dominated the room and a pile of logs crackled brightly on top of two massive iron firedogs.
Three large leather sofas and two equally inviting armchairs formed a half circle around the fireplace, with small, polished wood tables beside each one. The room was softly lit by half a dozen standard lamps with William Morris patterned shades, and several table lamps, all casting a warm glow. The wood-panelled walls – or what could be seen of them between the bookshelves – were decked with wreaths of red-berried holly and winter foliage, interspersed with trailing ivy tumbling from hanging stoneware containers. One corner of the room was dominated by an enormous Christmas tree in a large red glazed pot. The tree was festooned with silver and gold tinsel and hung with countless baubles and other trimmings in a riot of colour, tiny lights twinkling like multi-coloured stars. The effect was utterly chaotic and absolutely beautiful. Wrapped presents in all different shapes and sizes sprawled in haphazard piles around the tree.
Lester was pleased he’d thought to bring a gift for everyone. Claudia had tried to tell him it was unnecessary, but he’d politely over-ruled her. When time allowed, he enjoyed buying presents, and a flat in central London left him with plenty of choice on his doorstep. He felt reasonably confident in his choices.
Vanessa Brown welcomed him with a warm smile and a glass of excellent sparkling wine from Barkham Manor in Kent, close to the site of the famous Piltdown Man hoax. Lester regularly stocked up his own cupboard with their wine. Ness, as she insisted he call her, was wearing a russet sweater decorated with autumn leaves surrounding a red fox, curled up in a sleepy ball.
Claudia’s father, Neil, was wearing a deep blue jumper adorned with a otter, The creature favoured Lester with a knowing look and seemed to nod to the white fox. A stunningly beautiful barn owl stared at him from Claudia’s long grey cashmere sweater for a long moment, then winked at him. In his limited experience, the sweater creatures liked winking at him. Ryan’s penguins were currently engaging in a riotous attempt to recreate Happy Feet, much to everyone else’s amusement.
“Were you serious about a Christmas play?” Lester asked Nicky over their second round of pre-dinner drinks.
“’fraid so. As I said, old Inglestone tradition.”
“Will it involve learning lines?” Lester was conscious of the fact that he was probably looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights at the prospect.
“We usually just make it up as we go along,” Neil told him.
If he meant that to be comforting, the man was sorely mistaken. Lester shot his host a rueful glance. “My improvisation skills are strictly limited to fractious meetings with ministers.”
“The WI did the whole thing as a rap musical last time,” Ness said. “That’s going to be a hard act to follow.”
“I thought Mrs Leverhulme was going to have my head off for real,” Nicky complained, rubbing his neck. “I swear she’d been sharpening that bloody axe.”
“She’d been sharpening it again.” Neil looked amused. “I saw her beheading her roses a few weeks ago. You know she takes her job as props mistress seriously.”
Nicky winced. “And I thought she liked me.”
“She does. You should have seen what she did to Colonel Thompson’s dahlias.”
“It’ll be fine, James,” Claudia said, topping up his glass. “We’ll have a very forgiving audience. No one will want next year’s presents to mysteriously go missing.”
“How much of an open secret is it round here?” Lester asked.
“I run a respectable haulage business in Slough!” Nicky said indignantly.
“Yes, dear. Villages like this have long memories,” Ness said. “The area is still staunchly Parliamentarian.”
“Unlike that bloody Hooray Henry who’s bought Dearham Hall,” Neil Brown commented, his words dripping with disgust dripping. “Fred Pickett told me Marchant’s going to put on a drag hunt on Boxing Day, and we all fucking well know what that’s going to involve.”
The fox on his wife’s sweater stirred and looked unhappy. Ness stroked the creature until it settled back down. The expression on the face of Lester’s fox could have cooled Hell by several degrees.
“Have you told him that our lands are off limits?”
“We traded a few pleasantries,” Neil admitted.
“I’m sure he deserves it, dad, but try not to thump him. He’s the sort of litigious little shit who’d only be too happy to sue.” Claudia poured some more wine into her father’s glass.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t resort to that, anyway there’ll be so much aniseed on his land that the hounds he’s borrowing will be running in circles for a week.”
Nicky stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Come on, Ryan, let’s introduce James to the bees and fetch that bloody Yule log before I eat so many snacks that I fall asleep before dinner.”
“I thought the Yule log was brought in on Christmas Eve?” Lester commented.
“Not around here. Besides, we’ll still be burning the damn thing at Easter.”
Lester followed Nicky and Ryan out into the snowy courtyard as the two men took a short cut to the old stable yard on the far side. The huge stag was standing in the archway that led out to the stables, looking out across the distant fields. The creature turned as they approached and let out a low rumble. Nicky stroked the animal’s velvety muzzle and murmured some words in a language that Lester didn’t recognise.
The Megaloceros gazed at Lester out of fathomless dark eyes then head-butted his chest. Lester wasn’t sure if the greeting was aimed at him or the fox.
“Cian says you’re welcome to the Hall,” Nicky told him. “But if you ask him why his nose isn’t red, he says no one will ever find your body.”
“I wouldn’t be so crass.”
The stag let put a low, throaty rumble.
“He says he likes you.”
“I’m honoured,” Lester said, and meant it.
The bees appeared to approve of him as well, and Lester stood there by the hives, utterly entranced at the lilting melody that rose up into the night air around him. According to Nicky, the bees were practising for Christmas Eve when traditionally they would hum the 100th Psalm. Then Lester noticed a subtle shift in the melody and found himself humming along with them.
At his side Ryan looked puzzled, but Lester hadn’t spent years bringing up a daughter who started playing Christmas songs in September.
“A Spaceman Came Travelling,” Lester said. “Chris de Burgh. Come on, Ryan, you must know it.”
With the bees as a backing group, Lester and Nicky pulled off a creditable duet and were still laughing when they staggered into the library, weighed down by the Yule log.
In response to Claudia’s raised eyebrows, they gave her a beeless chorus in several different keys.
Claudia groaned. “Have you been encouraging the bees? They’ll be humming Merry Christmas Everybody next.”
“They’re bored with the 100th Psalm,” Nicky said, as between them they manoeuvred the Yule log onto the fire. A bright shower of sparks danced up the chimney as the huge chunk of wood settled onto the firedogs.
“When I first met the bees, you told me they were traditionalists,” Ryan commented.
“New generation. Anyway, it’s better than bloody Jingle Bells. I swear if I hear that once more, no one will get any presents.”
By the time Lester went up to his room, he couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so relaxed. Good wine, good food and, more importantly, good company had banished the stress of a bad week that had descended on him on top of an intolerable month, leaving him pleasant tired and, for the first time in a long while, looking forward to the next few days without the spectre of petty politics hanging over his head.
As he drew the heavy brocade curtains closed, he saw the stag, still standing in the middle of the courtyard like a graven statue, staring up at an almost full moon as the snow settled lightly on its back.
With the melody of the 100th Psalm running through his mind, Lester quickly drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep.
****
“How do you feel about a midnight carol service?” Claudia asked, as Lester was tucking in to one of her mother’s spectacular breakfasts.
“Will there be mince pies and mulled wine?”
“Inglestone WI, never knowingly under-catered. You’ll be begging for time off for good behaviour after your tenth mince pie and a gallon of mulled wine.”
“Sounds splendid.” At Ness’ insistence, Lester helped himself to the last sausage, while Nicky and Ryan scrupulously divided the remaining bacon and mushrooms between them. “So, what constitutes traditional Christmas Eve activities while cut off by snow in Essex?”
“We usually go for a walk, eat too much at lunchtime, fall asleep in front of the fire then get woken up when one of the roast chestnuts explodes,” Neil replied. “Then it’s lunch leftovers for a snack and a snowy walk to the church for 10 o’clock, then carols and the obligatory religious bit then home for a nightcap and bed.”
“Some of us have work to do,” Nicky announced. “I’ll be with you by midnight. It’ll be all over by the shouting at that point, and I won’t want to see another mince pie for a year.”
Claudia rolled her eyes. “Liar, you’ll be gorging them all day tomorrow. You always do. Mum had to bake another batch last year.”
“There are another 50 in the freezer. I saw them earlier.”
“Seventy, actually, dear,” Ness commented. “Now bugger off, Nicky, you’ve got deliveries to make.”
Nicky kissed her on the cheek, waved to everyone else, and sauntered out. A few moments later, his Range Rover, now ivy green, drove off, winter tyres easily gripping the thick snow.
After breakfast, Claudia changed into outdoor clothing, as did Ryan, and they made their way down to the courtyard, paying their respects to the bees, who were still humming the melody to a Spaceman Came Travelling. At least it was better than Merry Christmas Everyone or Jingle Bells.
Lester joined them, wearing warm, padded trousers, a black ski jacket and a pair of well-worn leather walking boots. She’d never imagined him as an outdoor type, but it seemed first impressions could be wrong.
“Phillie and I used to do a lot of walking before the kids were born,” he said, clearly noticing the direction of her glance. “Her aunt has a house on the North York Moors.”
The snow crunched under their boots as they made their way out of the courtyard and onto a track leading towards a distant wood. White flakes were still swirling in the air obscuring the view but for a moment, Claudia thought she saw a tall stag standing near the treeline, wide antlers branching out, a white coverlet over its strong body. She turned and saw Cian standing in the archway to the courtyard, staring out across the fields.
The Megaloceros lifted his head and produced a deep, rumbling bellow that ended in a series of coughing barks.
Claudia had known the giant deer long enough to recognise a warning call.
She turned and the other stag had gone.
Ryan looked at her, a question in his steady grey eyes.
She shrugged but couldn’t manage to shake off a sense of nagging unease on their walk.
****
After the best night’s sleep Lester had experienced in years – a six-mile tramp along snowy lanes followed by the walk to the church and the carol service had left him pleasantly tired – he took a quick shower, made himself a welcome mug of coffee and settled down on the window seat to enjoy the sight of the early morning light sparkling on the frost on the outside of the mullion windows. The ice formed myriad shapes, no two the same, each one complex and beautiful.
He’d been fascinated by snowflakes since childhood, spending hours painstakingly drawing them in his sketchbooks. His own children had inherited his fascination with them and had always insisted on stories about Jack Frost and his adventures in a winter wonderland peopled by villainous goblins ready to prey on the unwary. Jack Frost had been helped by various creatures, including a talking badger called Montgomery (Eddie’s creation) and his friend, Montmorency, a sarcastic stoat invented by Jo. Lester had drawn their exploits and the children still had the sketchbooks. He wondered if they ever looked at them now.
At Claudia’s insistence, he’d placed the children’s presents to him under the tree with all the others, to be opened after lunch.
He wondered if the children were awake yet. They’d gone past the stage of trying to stay awake all night and neither of them tended to be early risers, but it was Christmas morning …
His phone pinged with the tone for the WhatApp group he shared with the children.
Eddie: Happy Crimblemas, Dad!
Before he had time to reply, one came in from Jo. A close-up photo of the inside of a window even more frosty than his, almost certainly taken with the macro lens for her camera phone that had been one of her presents from him. The definition on the crystals was superb. Jo loved taking photos on her phone and was building a very respectable following on Instagram.
He’d never mastered the art of typing on a phone screen with both thumbs, but he had learnt to swipe as a technique, much to the amusement of his tech-savvy children. Morning, you two, Happy Crimble! Have you got snow?
Eddie: Masses!!! going 2 make a snowman
Jo: Snowperson, you sexist brat! Stop perpetuating the patriarchy with generalisations!
Like father, like daughter. Jo was meticulous when it came to punctuating texts. She was equally keen on capital letters and had once, while visiting him in Marsham Street, caused a senior civil servant to go an unnatural shade of puce by looking over his shoulder, pointing out a missing capital letter in a memo and painstakingly explaining the importance of proper capitalisation by reference to the example of assisting Uncle Jack to dismount from his horse.
Jo had already declared her intention of becoming photojournalist and writer. Eddie was equally determined to be a comic book artist.
Have a great day, you two! Lester typed, when the exchange of pleasantries had run their usual course. The children bickered constantly, but would immediately unite in the face of a common foe should the need arise. For their sake, Lester was determined to keep his relationship with his soon-to-be-ex-wife as cordial as possible. He’d not quibbled any of the details of the financial settlement, or the arrangements for the children. All that was needed now was the court to approve everything and his lawyer had assured him that was now nothing more than a formality.
The Arctic fox on his chest gave him a sympathetic look.
Lester smiled and snapped a selfie, sending it to the kids before he could change his mind.
Jo and Eddie both replied with laughing emojis. They’d been on at him for years to get a Christmas sweater.
They arranged to message again in the afternoon after opening the rest of their presents. Phillie had allowed them one each in the morning. Jo’s had been the macro lens, Eddie’s had been a new drawing tablet. Both presents had been a hit.
By the time Lester arrived downstairs, the smell of frying bacon was mingling happily with the warm aroma of turkey cooking in the enormous cast iron range.
Nicky, dressed in scruffy black jeans and a red sweater covered in cartoon reindeer, broke an egg open over a sizzling pan. “Bacon and egg butty coming up. Who’s next?”
Ryan stuck his hand up and Claudia promptly hauled it down again. “James is next in line, you’ve already had two.”
“Finished work for the day?” Lester asked, grabbing a seat at the table and accepting the mug of tea Ryan pushed over to him.
“All done,” Nicky announced cheerfully, flipping the egg over with practised ease. “Now I can concentrate on the important business of stuffing myself with food. Busy day yesterday. Now it’s bacon and egg for breakfast, smoked salmon for brunch and the rest about three o’clock. I’m off duty after breakfast.”
“I do the smoked salmon,” Claudia commented. “Lunch is mum and dad’s domain.”
“I roast the chestnuts in the afternoon,” Ryan said, casting a hopeful glance at the bacon and egg butty Lester had just accepted.
Claudia rolled her eyes. “And make sure you cut a slit in all of them this time…”
“If I do, how will we wake up to open the presents if none of them explode?”
Lester tucked into his breakfast, enjoying the free flow of banter around the table.
Breakfast segued into brunch in the library and by the time an enormous turkey feast and the trimmings had been consumed, Lester had some sympathy with Ryan’s ploy of using an exploding roast chestnut to force everyone out of the inevitable food coma.
The Queen’s Speech passed by unnoticed. From the snippets of conversation Lester had caught, it was obvious that the Browns as a family had always favoured parliament over royalty, although Ness did admit to having binge-watched all four series of The Crown, much to her daughter’s amusement.
At 4pm, Lester’s phone binged with an incoming WhatsApp.
Eddie: PRESNTS PLZ!
Jo: The brat means, “Dad, may we please open our presents?”
Is it 4pm yet?
Jo: Dad, if you needed a watch for Christmas, you should have said…
All right, brats, it’s pressie time!
A moment later, his phone rang with an incoming WhatsApp video call and he found himself looking at the presents he’d bought for the children, with Jo’s phone being used to record the event. They dived in like a couple of toddlers, with wrapping paper flying everywhere.
Ten minutes later, the children were surrounded by piles of opened presents and were both grinning from ear to ear. In the background, Lester caught sight of his now soon-to-be-ex-wife smiling fondly at the pair of them.
“Your turn!” Eddie yelled, loudly enough to be heard at the North Pole.
“Which one?”
“Small square one!” Eddie ordered.
Lester reached for the neatly wrapped parcel (Jo’s work, not Eddie’s) and opened it carefully. He smiled as two CDs of medieval carols were revealed.
These were followed by a pair of bright red socks with a matching silk tie and pocket square.
The Arctic fox on his chest nodded approvingly.
“Cool sweater, dad!” Eddie grinned. “Have you got one with reindeer as well?”
“I do the snark, remember?” Lester reached for the second package. This was larger, but equally flat, and felt like a thin, hard-backed book. He ran his hands over it carefully as his two children watched with an air of suppressed excitement. As he opened the paper with equal care, a hand-bound book appeared, filled with what looked to be handmade paper.
His eyes widened as he took in the cover – a beautifully drawn painting of a winter scene, showing a Neolithic chambered tomb surrounded by standing stones. In one corner, a large black and white badger stared at the mound, a thoughtful expression on its whiskered face. Beside the badger, a tawny coloured stoat with a white chest stood up on its hindlegs, looking excited and mischievous.
Careful lettering announced: The Further Adventures of Montgomery and Montmorency – In Search of the Ice Queen.
Lester ran his hands over the cover, taking in every aspect of the scene before opening the book. The title page inside was a preliminary ink sketch of the cover scene, with the words For the best dad in the world, lots of love from Jo and Eddie with a Christmas tree made up of kisses beneath their signatures. He turned to the next page and the next, tears pricking at his eyes. Every single one contained superb illustrations, in Eddie’s distinctive style, the two main characters easily recognisable. Montgomery’s solemn, knowing expression; Montmorency’s eager grin and twitching whiskers, the light of mischief in his small, dark eyes.
The layout carried all Jo’s distinctive style and flair, the careful lettering in her neat writing complemented each lively drawing and hand-painted panel. The book told the story of the two friends’ search for the mysterious Snow Queen, a hare who held the secret of the mound. The book represented many, many hours of collaborative work between the children. Lester had never expected anything like that and found that the words he wanted to say simply wouldn’t come out past the lump in his throat and the wholly unashamed tears in his eyes. He couldn’t have imaged or hoped for a bigger display of love from his children. They’d not only remembered the two animal friends he’d created and drawn for them but had gone on to bring their own story so vividly to life.
The haughty fox on his chest winked into the camera and said aloud, “He loves it.”
Eddie’s eyes widened. “Dad! How did you do that?”
Lester and the fox winked in unison. “Christmas secret. He’s right, I love it very much. I can’t even begin to imagine how long it took you both."
Jo's bright smile was as much of a present as the book. “We started at Easter.”
Easter had coincided with the opening salvoes in the legal process initiated by Ophelia on the basis of the irretrievable breakdown of their marriage. The fact that his children had started on a project like the book so long ago and had continued through all the final troubled stages of their marriage told him that maybe he hadn’t been quite as bad at the whole parenting thing as he’d come to believe. And the fact that they’d returned to the world of Montgomery and Montmorency to express that love was something very special indeed.
“And don’t read the end first!” Eddie yelled. “It’s meant to be a surprise.”
They talked for another five minutes and promised to chat again the following day.
Lester ended the call and looked up to find the Browns and Ryan talking quietly beside the fire, careful not to intrude on his private time with his children. He smiled at them and held out the book to Claudia.
She looked at the first few pages, a smile growing on her face. “They did this themselves? It’s beautiful, James. You must be very proud of them.”
He smiled and nodded, unable to speak.
“He is,” the fox said, with a wink and a smirk.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Claudia/Ryan, Nicky Brown, Lester/OC, OCs
Disclaimer : Not mine (except the OCs) , no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 14,500 in two parts.
Summary : When Lester is invited to spent Christmas at Inglestone Hall with the Browns and Ryan, he’s hoping for a peaceful time, but life can’t always be relied on to cooperate.
A/N : 1) Written for
louise_dennis for the primeval_denial Secret Santa for the prompts: Patterns in the Ice, The Giant under the Snow, It was at Christmas that the Green Knight came to King Arthur's Hall, Snow Queen 2) This takes place in the same series as The Devil’s Knell and Twelfth Night.“Do you mind if I ask if you have any plans for Christmas, James?” Claudia asked, setting a mug of tea down on Lester’s desk.
“Thank you.” Lester cradled the mug in his hand and pushed his chair back from the desk, debating whether to tell the truth or fob her off with some platitude or other. He came down on the side of truth. Claudia Brown could see through a lie at 20 paces and would not hesitate to point out the error of his ways. “My wife is taking the children away somewhere with her new boyfriend for the weekend. Apparently his brother owns a stately pile in the country. My invitation appears to have gone astray in the post.”
“Is there no chance of a reconciliation?” There was no mistaking the sympathy in her warm brown eyes.
He shook his head. “I received the decree nisi yesterday. All that remains now is to agree the financial settlement and the arrangements regarding the children.”
Claudia perched on the arm of the black leather sofa. “I really am sorry, James.”
“So am I.” He smiled ruefully. “All I can do now is keep things civilised and continue to do my best to be a good father to my children.”
“Come to Inglestone Hall with Tom and I for Christmas. The anomalies have been quiet for nearly a month. Joel Stringer and his team are on shift and Stephen says he’ll make sure Cutter behaves himself.”
Lester was touched by her concern. “That’s very kind of you, but I couldn’t possibly impose. I’ve got several books to read, and I intend to get some healthy exercise for once and take some long walks.”
“Bring the books with you,” a fresh voice said from the doorway. “And there’s some good walking in Essex.”
Lester looked up in surprise at the good-looking dark-haired man with a close-cropped beard who was now lounging in the doorway. He wore a dark green Rohan jacket, a green sweater that had definitely seen better days, a pair of scruffy black jeans and an even more battered pair of walking boots that made him look like a hiker who’d dropped in on the off chance of a mug of tea and a bacon butty.
“Nicky!” Claudia jumped up and enveloped the visitor in hug.
Nicky Brown kissed her on both cheeks then sauntered over to the desk and extended his hand. Lester shook it warmly. He wasn’t surprised to see that his red silk tie was now sporting a haughty-looking Arctic fox, who was casting a baleful eye at Lester’s laptop and the pile of papers overflowing his in-tray. The fox always took a dim view of his work ethic at this time of year.
“You need a break, James,” Nicky declared. “And we’re short of someone to play King Arthur in the Inglestone Christmas performance of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.”
Lester allowed a look of total horror to settle on his face. “Tell me you’re not serious or I’ll have a quiet word with the Transport Minister and get your haulage contracts revoked.”
Nicky’s smile radiated innocence. “Would I lie to you? And don’t waste your time. When the minister fucked up by forgetting his kids’ birthday presents last week, I bailed him out with a special delivery.”
The Arctic fox grinned, showing just a hint of white teeth and the tip of a pink tongue lolling out of one side of his long muzzle.
Lester glanced down at his vulpine companion and sighed loudly.
The fox winked.
“I’d be delighted to accept,” Lester said, and meant it.
****
“How on earth did you manage to persuade him?” Ryan asked, not bothering to disguise his incredulity.
“Nicky used his charm. You don’t mind, do you, Tom?”
Ryan shook his head. “Not in the slightest. The divorce has hit him hard. There aren’t many marriages that can survive keeping this many secrets.”
Claudia slipped her arm around his waist. “I’ve never liked to ask, but was that what happened to you?”
Ryan rested his head on her shoulder, more thankful than he could ever put into words that he had Claudia Brown in his life now. “I was young and having the time of my life. She was stuck in Hereford with the rest of the wives and girlfriends. I’d either come back from an op high as a kite on adrenaline and get pissed with the lads or it would have all gone to ratshit and I’d still get pissed with the lads. Either way, I couldn’t talk about it with her. So yeah, the secrets didn’t help, but mostly I was too fucking young for a serious relationship. Married at 21, divorced at 25.”
She hugged him harder. “I’m sorry, Tom.”
“So was I. But it’s a long way in the past now. She’s married to an investment banker in Maidenhead, with a big house, two kids and a Labrador. And I’ve got you.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “Thanks for putting up with me.”
“You two are seriously adorable.”
“You’re meant to knock first, Nicky.” Claudia threw her brother an exasperated look. “The big round brass thing on the outside door. Or better still, use the bell, or is that a bit modern for you?”
“You’ve got a holly wreath on the door. That’s a standing invitation, isn’t it?”
“Could have been worse, he could have come down the chimney,” Ryan pointed out.
“Don’t encourage him,” Claudia said. “Although it does need sweeping …”
Nicky waved a casual hand at the fireplace. “Not any more it doesn’t.”
“Beer?” Ryan asked.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
“You’re looking shifty, Nicky,” Claudia commented as Ryan lobbed her brother an open bottle of beer.
Nicky plucked it out of the air without spilling a drop. “We need a Gawain and a Guinevere as well as an Arthur,” he admitted. “It’s Inglestone’s turn to provide the main players and Neil and Nessa say it’s your turn to do the honours.”
Claudia groaned. “I hate you. And I’m not too keen on mum and dad, either.”
Ryan looked from his girlfriend to her brother in mounting horror. “I do not do am-dram!”
“You do now,” Nicky said. “Sorry, mate, it goes with the territory. You’ll make an excellent Gawain. All dashing, reckless bravery and honour …”
“You do it!”
“Can’t. I’m the Green Knight.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Nicky’s smiled bordered on a smirk. “Because you’ve been going out with my sister for two years.”
“There’s not been any am-dram before.”
“Only happens once every three years. Old Inglestone village tradition. Goes back donkey’s years.”
“And you always play the Green Knight?”
Nicky glanced down at the dark green sweater that has just replaced the red one he’d arrived in. “Green suits me.”
****
Lester stared out of the window of his flat, watching as fat flakes of snow danced on a light breeze. The odds on a white Christmas had just dropped through the floor. The Daily Express was in such a paroxysm of delight that had, for once, pushed the latest conspiracy theory about the death of Princess Diana off the headlines.
He’d woken early, as he always did, and had been halfway into his work suit before remembering that – barring dinosaur-related apocalypses – he wasn’t dure back at work until the New Year. He didn’t even have to worry about driving his Mercedes to Essex, as he would be travelling to Inglestone Hall with Claudia and Ryan.
His bags were packed and ready, including the presents he’d chosen for his hosts and his colleagues, sitting ready in the hallway, together with a case of wine as his contribution to the festivities.
The butterflies in his stomach were dancing as cheerfully as the snowflakes swirling around outside the windows by the time his doorbell rang.
Nicky Brown smiled widely. “Your carriage awaits, Cinders, it’s time to go to the ball.”
“Is it drawn by white mice?”
“Nope. They’re on a work to rule and you’ve spent too long watching Disney films. I’ve brought the Range Rover. The roads are going to be treacherous tonight. Claudia and Ryan left an hour ago, but I had a meeting in Horseferry Road, so I said I’d be your driver.”
The gleaming red Range Rover parked on double yellow lines outside Whitehall Court was already covered in a light dusting of snow. A traffic warden walked past as they were loading the baggage into the back. The man smiled at them and walked on.
“Isn’t there some unwritten rule about only using your powers for good?” Lester said as he clipped his seatbelt into place.
“If there is, no one’s ever told me,” Nicky replied cheerfully. “But there is an exchange system for favours. The package he’s been waiting for that actually went astray in Dusseldorf will be on his mat by the time he gets home.”
The journey out of London was easier than Lester had expected, despite the now thick covering of white snow blanketing the roads and pavements. Every traffic light quickly turned green to accommodate them as the Range Rover smoothly made its way through the tail end of the rush hour traffic and made slow but steady progress along a bewildering procession of the highways and byways of Greater London, with Nicky avoiding the congestion on the main roads and motorways as around them the world turned steadily whiter.
“Can you call for the sleigh if we run aground in a snowdrift?” Lester asked, as Nicky dropped the vehicle into a lower gear to take them up a rise in the ground that had already defeated half a dozen cars.
“Oh ye of little faith … You’re out of luck, it’s Rudolf’s night off. He’s already sneakily exceeded the European Working Time Directive by several hours, so I’ve had to ground him until Monday.”
“You really do have reindeer called Rudolf?”
“Absolutely not. He’s a Megaloceros and his name’s Cian. And I don’t have him, it would probably be more accurate to say he has me. Or we have each other.”
“I look forward to meeting him,” Lester said, wondering quite how strange the visit was going to be.
Nicky laughed. “You deal with dinosaurs and rips in time on a daily basis. One megaloceros is hardly likely to be the strangest thing you’ve encountered.”
“Probably not,” Lester conceded.
“Go on then, we’ve a way to go yet, trot out some of your best dinosaur stories …”
****
“They’re here, mother!” Claudia called.
She pulled a shawl around her shoulders and slipped her feet into a pair of Wellington boots before hurrying down the wide stone steps and across the gravel driveway to where Nicky had parked the Range Rover.
Ryan followed at a slightly more sedate pace, watching as she threw her arms around Nicky in an unrestrained hug that nearly bowled him over, then subjected Lester to a slightly more restrained embrace. He smiled and kissed her on both cheeks.
The Arctic fox on Lester’s dark blue cashmere sweater looked on with its customary haughty expression. Nicky had clearly decided it was time Lester graduated from Christmas ties to Christmas sweaters.
With a resigned expression, Ryan looked down at his own sweater. When he’d walked down the steps, he’d been wearing an old grey jumper that had just about survived numerous team barbecues and had the scars to show for it, now he had on a soft black fleece sporting an entire flock of line-dancing penguins. Nicky had provided matching socks, too.
Ryan pulled the man into a one-armed hug. They’d fought together and nearly died together. That took them well past the stage of vague manly awkwardness. “Couldn’t I have had something butch like a grey wolf?”
“Sssh, you’ll hurt their feelings!”
Ryan automatically stroked the front of his sweater and the penguins gazed up at him adoringly.
“Nicky always insists on Christmas sweaters,” Claudia said apologetically.
“That’s fine, I like penguins.”
One of them promptly fainted with happiness.
“And I like foxes,” Lester added,
The white fox looked positive smug.
Lester was warmly welcomed by Vanessa and Neil Brown, then Ryan showed him to the guest room just across the corridor from Ryan and Claudia’s bedroom. A fire burnt brightly in the hearth and warm blankets had been piled on the bed in case the thick quilt wasn’t warm enough.
“The plumbing’s a tad eccentric at times,” Ryan said. “But there’s usually plenty of hot water.”
Two large windows looked out onto the inner courtyard. The thick covering of snow on the low box hedges gleamed brightly in cold silvery moonlight interspersed with the warm yellow glow from some of the windows. In the middle, stood a huge brown stag with impossibly large, branching antlers. A light dusting of snow flecked the creature’s thick, shaggy coat.
“I thought he was a statue when I first came here,” Ryan said.
“He’s magnificent. Does he really pull a sleigh?”
“Oh yes, Nicky’s a great believer in clichés. This’ll be the most cliché-ridden Christmas you’ll ever experience. You’ll have to help lug the Yule log in later. New guest’s privilege.”
Lester laughed softly. “Fucking hell, Ryan, I honestly used to think dinosaurs were the strangest thing that could happen to me, but this all takes some beating.”
“Claudia advised me not to over-think things. Just go with the flow. Life around here is easier that way. Drinks in the library are usually at 6pm. Casual dress. No one stands on ceremony in Inglestone. There’s tea and coffee stuff on the desk, and milk and booze in the fridge. The password for the wifi is Yuletide, capital Y, and there’s normally a decent mobile signal, so text me know if you need anything.”
Down in the courtyard, the stag threw his head back and let out a deep, rumbling cry, staring up at the pale moon.
“Welcome to Inglestone Hall,” Ryan said softly. “You’ll like it here.”
****
Lester made himself a mug of tea laced with scotch and took a relaxing shower then pulled on a pair of warm corduroy trousers, a fresh shirt and his Christmas sweater. The white fox gave him a knowing grin. The fox cubs on his socks chased themselves around and around his ankles before hiding in his sheepskin slippers.
On his way down to the library, the lack of dead things staring down at him from the wood-panelled walls made a refreshing change from the sort of thing he’d had to endure all too often at ministerial country house parties. Lester hated blood sports, something he’d always had in common with his soon-to-be-ex-wife. For all her upper-class background, Ophelia detested the sort of hooray thug who got their kicks killing for fun. When they’d gone to Buckingham Palace for his knighthood, she’d ended up in a passage of arms with Phil the Greek over the National Trust banning stag hunting (he’d been unimpressed and had said so at length). The honours in an unrestrained verbal battle had gone to her, but Lester had managed to separate them before she’d got onto his hypocritical patronage of the World Wildlife Fund.
He smiled at the memories. There had been plenty of good times, but the anomalies had been the final straw that had broken the camel’s back, coming on top of years of over-work as he’d fought to stay at the top of a cut-throat game. Now they had to keep things civilised for the sake of the children. At 14-going-on-40, Jo pretended to be taking it all in her stride, but ten-year-old Eddie had been hit hard by first the separation then the divorce.
Lester shook the thoughts off. He would speak to the children tomorrow. He’d made sure they had their presents to open even though he wouldn’t be with them, and theirs to him were now laid out on the window seat.
Warmth, laughter, and the smell of woodsmoke greeted him as he opened the door to the library. The sight that greeted him was his idea of heaven, with floor to ceiling bookcases and wooden ladders on a rail that ran around the top of the highest shelves. Leatherbound volumes jostled for space with modern books, everything from history to knitting. A huge stone fireplace dominated the room and a pile of logs crackled brightly on top of two massive iron firedogs.
Three large leather sofas and two equally inviting armchairs formed a half circle around the fireplace, with small, polished wood tables beside each one. The room was softly lit by half a dozen standard lamps with William Morris patterned shades, and several table lamps, all casting a warm glow. The wood-panelled walls – or what could be seen of them between the bookshelves – were decked with wreaths of red-berried holly and winter foliage, interspersed with trailing ivy tumbling from hanging stoneware containers. One corner of the room was dominated by an enormous Christmas tree in a large red glazed pot. The tree was festooned with silver and gold tinsel and hung with countless baubles and other trimmings in a riot of colour, tiny lights twinkling like multi-coloured stars. The effect was utterly chaotic and absolutely beautiful. Wrapped presents in all different shapes and sizes sprawled in haphazard piles around the tree.
Lester was pleased he’d thought to bring a gift for everyone. Claudia had tried to tell him it was unnecessary, but he’d politely over-ruled her. When time allowed, he enjoyed buying presents, and a flat in central London left him with plenty of choice on his doorstep. He felt reasonably confident in his choices.
Vanessa Brown welcomed him with a warm smile and a glass of excellent sparkling wine from Barkham Manor in Kent, close to the site of the famous Piltdown Man hoax. Lester regularly stocked up his own cupboard with their wine. Ness, as she insisted he call her, was wearing a russet sweater decorated with autumn leaves surrounding a red fox, curled up in a sleepy ball.
Claudia’s father, Neil, was wearing a deep blue jumper adorned with a otter, The creature favoured Lester with a knowing look and seemed to nod to the white fox. A stunningly beautiful barn owl stared at him from Claudia’s long grey cashmere sweater for a long moment, then winked at him. In his limited experience, the sweater creatures liked winking at him. Ryan’s penguins were currently engaging in a riotous attempt to recreate Happy Feet, much to everyone else’s amusement.
“Were you serious about a Christmas play?” Lester asked Nicky over their second round of pre-dinner drinks.
“’fraid so. As I said, old Inglestone tradition.”
“Will it involve learning lines?” Lester was conscious of the fact that he was probably looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights at the prospect.
“We usually just make it up as we go along,” Neil told him.
If he meant that to be comforting, the man was sorely mistaken. Lester shot his host a rueful glance. “My improvisation skills are strictly limited to fractious meetings with ministers.”
“The WI did the whole thing as a rap musical last time,” Ness said. “That’s going to be a hard act to follow.”
“I thought Mrs Leverhulme was going to have my head off for real,” Nicky complained, rubbing his neck. “I swear she’d been sharpening that bloody axe.”
“She’d been sharpening it again.” Neil looked amused. “I saw her beheading her roses a few weeks ago. You know she takes her job as props mistress seriously.”
Nicky winced. “And I thought she liked me.”
“She does. You should have seen what she did to Colonel Thompson’s dahlias.”
“It’ll be fine, James,” Claudia said, topping up his glass. “We’ll have a very forgiving audience. No one will want next year’s presents to mysteriously go missing.”
“How much of an open secret is it round here?” Lester asked.
“I run a respectable haulage business in Slough!” Nicky said indignantly.
“Yes, dear. Villages like this have long memories,” Ness said. “The area is still staunchly Parliamentarian.”
“Unlike that bloody Hooray Henry who’s bought Dearham Hall,” Neil Brown commented, his words dripping with disgust dripping. “Fred Pickett told me Marchant’s going to put on a drag hunt on Boxing Day, and we all fucking well know what that’s going to involve.”
The fox on his wife’s sweater stirred and looked unhappy. Ness stroked the creature until it settled back down. The expression on the face of Lester’s fox could have cooled Hell by several degrees.
“Have you told him that our lands are off limits?”
“We traded a few pleasantries,” Neil admitted.
“I’m sure he deserves it, dad, but try not to thump him. He’s the sort of litigious little shit who’d only be too happy to sue.” Claudia poured some more wine into her father’s glass.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t resort to that, anyway there’ll be so much aniseed on his land that the hounds he’s borrowing will be running in circles for a week.”
Nicky stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Come on, Ryan, let’s introduce James to the bees and fetch that bloody Yule log before I eat so many snacks that I fall asleep before dinner.”
“I thought the Yule log was brought in on Christmas Eve?” Lester commented.
“Not around here. Besides, we’ll still be burning the damn thing at Easter.”
Lester followed Nicky and Ryan out into the snowy courtyard as the two men took a short cut to the old stable yard on the far side. The huge stag was standing in the archway that led out to the stables, looking out across the distant fields. The creature turned as they approached and let out a low rumble. Nicky stroked the animal’s velvety muzzle and murmured some words in a language that Lester didn’t recognise.
The Megaloceros gazed at Lester out of fathomless dark eyes then head-butted his chest. Lester wasn’t sure if the greeting was aimed at him or the fox.
“Cian says you’re welcome to the Hall,” Nicky told him. “But if you ask him why his nose isn’t red, he says no one will ever find your body.”
“I wouldn’t be so crass.”
The stag let put a low, throaty rumble.
“He says he likes you.”
“I’m honoured,” Lester said, and meant it.
The bees appeared to approve of him as well, and Lester stood there by the hives, utterly entranced at the lilting melody that rose up into the night air around him. According to Nicky, the bees were practising for Christmas Eve when traditionally they would hum the 100th Psalm. Then Lester noticed a subtle shift in the melody and found himself humming along with them.
At his side Ryan looked puzzled, but Lester hadn’t spent years bringing up a daughter who started playing Christmas songs in September.
“A Spaceman Came Travelling,” Lester said. “Chris de Burgh. Come on, Ryan, you must know it.”
With the bees as a backing group, Lester and Nicky pulled off a creditable duet and were still laughing when they staggered into the library, weighed down by the Yule log.
In response to Claudia’s raised eyebrows, they gave her a beeless chorus in several different keys.
Claudia groaned. “Have you been encouraging the bees? They’ll be humming Merry Christmas Everybody next.”
“They’re bored with the 100th Psalm,” Nicky said, as between them they manoeuvred the Yule log onto the fire. A bright shower of sparks danced up the chimney as the huge chunk of wood settled onto the firedogs.
“When I first met the bees, you told me they were traditionalists,” Ryan commented.
“New generation. Anyway, it’s better than bloody Jingle Bells. I swear if I hear that once more, no one will get any presents.”
By the time Lester went up to his room, he couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so relaxed. Good wine, good food and, more importantly, good company had banished the stress of a bad week that had descended on him on top of an intolerable month, leaving him pleasant tired and, for the first time in a long while, looking forward to the next few days without the spectre of petty politics hanging over his head.
As he drew the heavy brocade curtains closed, he saw the stag, still standing in the middle of the courtyard like a graven statue, staring up at an almost full moon as the snow settled lightly on its back.
With the melody of the 100th Psalm running through his mind, Lester quickly drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep.
****
“How do you feel about a midnight carol service?” Claudia asked, as Lester was tucking in to one of her mother’s spectacular breakfasts.
“Will there be mince pies and mulled wine?”
“Inglestone WI, never knowingly under-catered. You’ll be begging for time off for good behaviour after your tenth mince pie and a gallon of mulled wine.”
“Sounds splendid.” At Ness’ insistence, Lester helped himself to the last sausage, while Nicky and Ryan scrupulously divided the remaining bacon and mushrooms between them. “So, what constitutes traditional Christmas Eve activities while cut off by snow in Essex?”
“We usually go for a walk, eat too much at lunchtime, fall asleep in front of the fire then get woken up when one of the roast chestnuts explodes,” Neil replied. “Then it’s lunch leftovers for a snack and a snowy walk to the church for 10 o’clock, then carols and the obligatory religious bit then home for a nightcap and bed.”
“Some of us have work to do,” Nicky announced. “I’ll be with you by midnight. It’ll be all over by the shouting at that point, and I won’t want to see another mince pie for a year.”
Claudia rolled her eyes. “Liar, you’ll be gorging them all day tomorrow. You always do. Mum had to bake another batch last year.”
“There are another 50 in the freezer. I saw them earlier.”
“Seventy, actually, dear,” Ness commented. “Now bugger off, Nicky, you’ve got deliveries to make.”
Nicky kissed her on the cheek, waved to everyone else, and sauntered out. A few moments later, his Range Rover, now ivy green, drove off, winter tyres easily gripping the thick snow.
After breakfast, Claudia changed into outdoor clothing, as did Ryan, and they made their way down to the courtyard, paying their respects to the bees, who were still humming the melody to a Spaceman Came Travelling. At least it was better than Merry Christmas Everyone or Jingle Bells.
Lester joined them, wearing warm, padded trousers, a black ski jacket and a pair of well-worn leather walking boots. She’d never imagined him as an outdoor type, but it seemed first impressions could be wrong.
“Phillie and I used to do a lot of walking before the kids were born,” he said, clearly noticing the direction of her glance. “Her aunt has a house on the North York Moors.”
The snow crunched under their boots as they made their way out of the courtyard and onto a track leading towards a distant wood. White flakes were still swirling in the air obscuring the view but for a moment, Claudia thought she saw a tall stag standing near the treeline, wide antlers branching out, a white coverlet over its strong body. She turned and saw Cian standing in the archway to the courtyard, staring out across the fields.
The Megaloceros lifted his head and produced a deep, rumbling bellow that ended in a series of coughing barks.
Claudia had known the giant deer long enough to recognise a warning call.
She turned and the other stag had gone.
Ryan looked at her, a question in his steady grey eyes.
She shrugged but couldn’t manage to shake off a sense of nagging unease on their walk.
****
After the best night’s sleep Lester had experienced in years – a six-mile tramp along snowy lanes followed by the walk to the church and the carol service had left him pleasantly tired – he took a quick shower, made himself a welcome mug of coffee and settled down on the window seat to enjoy the sight of the early morning light sparkling on the frost on the outside of the mullion windows. The ice formed myriad shapes, no two the same, each one complex and beautiful.
He’d been fascinated by snowflakes since childhood, spending hours painstakingly drawing them in his sketchbooks. His own children had inherited his fascination with them and had always insisted on stories about Jack Frost and his adventures in a winter wonderland peopled by villainous goblins ready to prey on the unwary. Jack Frost had been helped by various creatures, including a talking badger called Montgomery (Eddie’s creation) and his friend, Montmorency, a sarcastic stoat invented by Jo. Lester had drawn their exploits and the children still had the sketchbooks. He wondered if they ever looked at them now.
At Claudia’s insistence, he’d placed the children’s presents to him under the tree with all the others, to be opened after lunch.
He wondered if the children were awake yet. They’d gone past the stage of trying to stay awake all night and neither of them tended to be early risers, but it was Christmas morning …
His phone pinged with the tone for the WhatApp group he shared with the children.
Eddie: Happy Crimblemas, Dad!
Before he had time to reply, one came in from Jo. A close-up photo of the inside of a window even more frosty than his, almost certainly taken with the macro lens for her camera phone that had been one of her presents from him. The definition on the crystals was superb. Jo loved taking photos on her phone and was building a very respectable following on Instagram.
He’d never mastered the art of typing on a phone screen with both thumbs, but he had learnt to swipe as a technique, much to the amusement of his tech-savvy children. Morning, you two, Happy Crimble! Have you got snow?
Eddie: Masses!!! going 2 make a snowman
Jo: Snowperson, you sexist brat! Stop perpetuating the patriarchy with generalisations!
Like father, like daughter. Jo was meticulous when it came to punctuating texts. She was equally keen on capital letters and had once, while visiting him in Marsham Street, caused a senior civil servant to go an unnatural shade of puce by looking over his shoulder, pointing out a missing capital letter in a memo and painstakingly explaining the importance of proper capitalisation by reference to the example of assisting Uncle Jack to dismount from his horse.
Jo had already declared her intention of becoming photojournalist and writer. Eddie was equally determined to be a comic book artist.
Have a great day, you two! Lester typed, when the exchange of pleasantries had run their usual course. The children bickered constantly, but would immediately unite in the face of a common foe should the need arise. For their sake, Lester was determined to keep his relationship with his soon-to-be-ex-wife as cordial as possible. He’d not quibbled any of the details of the financial settlement, or the arrangements for the children. All that was needed now was the court to approve everything and his lawyer had assured him that was now nothing more than a formality.
The Arctic fox on his chest gave him a sympathetic look.
Lester smiled and snapped a selfie, sending it to the kids before he could change his mind.
Jo and Eddie both replied with laughing emojis. They’d been on at him for years to get a Christmas sweater.
They arranged to message again in the afternoon after opening the rest of their presents. Phillie had allowed them one each in the morning. Jo’s had been the macro lens, Eddie’s had been a new drawing tablet. Both presents had been a hit.
By the time Lester arrived downstairs, the smell of frying bacon was mingling happily with the warm aroma of turkey cooking in the enormous cast iron range.
Nicky, dressed in scruffy black jeans and a red sweater covered in cartoon reindeer, broke an egg open over a sizzling pan. “Bacon and egg butty coming up. Who’s next?”
Ryan stuck his hand up and Claudia promptly hauled it down again. “James is next in line, you’ve already had two.”
“Finished work for the day?” Lester asked, grabbing a seat at the table and accepting the mug of tea Ryan pushed over to him.
“All done,” Nicky announced cheerfully, flipping the egg over with practised ease. “Now I can concentrate on the important business of stuffing myself with food. Busy day yesterday. Now it’s bacon and egg for breakfast, smoked salmon for brunch and the rest about three o’clock. I’m off duty after breakfast.”
“I do the smoked salmon,” Claudia commented. “Lunch is mum and dad’s domain.”
“I roast the chestnuts in the afternoon,” Ryan said, casting a hopeful glance at the bacon and egg butty Lester had just accepted.
Claudia rolled her eyes. “And make sure you cut a slit in all of them this time…”
“If I do, how will we wake up to open the presents if none of them explode?”
Lester tucked into his breakfast, enjoying the free flow of banter around the table.
Breakfast segued into brunch in the library and by the time an enormous turkey feast and the trimmings had been consumed, Lester had some sympathy with Ryan’s ploy of using an exploding roast chestnut to force everyone out of the inevitable food coma.
The Queen’s Speech passed by unnoticed. From the snippets of conversation Lester had caught, it was obvious that the Browns as a family had always favoured parliament over royalty, although Ness did admit to having binge-watched all four series of The Crown, much to her daughter’s amusement.
At 4pm, Lester’s phone binged with an incoming WhatsApp.
Eddie: PRESNTS PLZ!
Jo: The brat means, “Dad, may we please open our presents?”
Is it 4pm yet?
Jo: Dad, if you needed a watch for Christmas, you should have said…
All right, brats, it’s pressie time!
A moment later, his phone rang with an incoming WhatsApp video call and he found himself looking at the presents he’d bought for the children, with Jo’s phone being used to record the event. They dived in like a couple of toddlers, with wrapping paper flying everywhere.
Ten minutes later, the children were surrounded by piles of opened presents and were both grinning from ear to ear. In the background, Lester caught sight of his now soon-to-be-ex-wife smiling fondly at the pair of them.
“Your turn!” Eddie yelled, loudly enough to be heard at the North Pole.
“Which one?”
“Small square one!” Eddie ordered.
Lester reached for the neatly wrapped parcel (Jo’s work, not Eddie’s) and opened it carefully. He smiled as two CDs of medieval carols were revealed.
These were followed by a pair of bright red socks with a matching silk tie and pocket square.
The Arctic fox on his chest nodded approvingly.
“Cool sweater, dad!” Eddie grinned. “Have you got one with reindeer as well?”
“I do the snark, remember?” Lester reached for the second package. This was larger, but equally flat, and felt like a thin, hard-backed book. He ran his hands over it carefully as his two children watched with an air of suppressed excitement. As he opened the paper with equal care, a hand-bound book appeared, filled with what looked to be handmade paper.
His eyes widened as he took in the cover – a beautifully drawn painting of a winter scene, showing a Neolithic chambered tomb surrounded by standing stones. In one corner, a large black and white badger stared at the mound, a thoughtful expression on its whiskered face. Beside the badger, a tawny coloured stoat with a white chest stood up on its hindlegs, looking excited and mischievous.
Careful lettering announced: The Further Adventures of Montgomery and Montmorency – In Search of the Ice Queen.
Lester ran his hands over the cover, taking in every aspect of the scene before opening the book. The title page inside was a preliminary ink sketch of the cover scene, with the words For the best dad in the world, lots of love from Jo and Eddie with a Christmas tree made up of kisses beneath their signatures. He turned to the next page and the next, tears pricking at his eyes. Every single one contained superb illustrations, in Eddie’s distinctive style, the two main characters easily recognisable. Montgomery’s solemn, knowing expression; Montmorency’s eager grin and twitching whiskers, the light of mischief in his small, dark eyes.
The layout carried all Jo’s distinctive style and flair, the careful lettering in her neat writing complemented each lively drawing and hand-painted panel. The book told the story of the two friends’ search for the mysterious Snow Queen, a hare who held the secret of the mound. The book represented many, many hours of collaborative work between the children. Lester had never expected anything like that and found that the words he wanted to say simply wouldn’t come out past the lump in his throat and the wholly unashamed tears in his eyes. He couldn’t have imaged or hoped for a bigger display of love from his children. They’d not only remembered the two animal friends he’d created and drawn for them but had gone on to bring their own story so vividly to life.
The haughty fox on his chest winked into the camera and said aloud, “He loves it.”
Eddie’s eyes widened. “Dad! How did you do that?”
Lester and the fox winked in unison. “Christmas secret. He’s right, I love it very much. I can’t even begin to imagine how long it took you both."
Jo's bright smile was as much of a present as the book. “We started at Easter.”
Easter had coincided with the opening salvoes in the legal process initiated by Ophelia on the basis of the irretrievable breakdown of their marriage. The fact that his children had started on a project like the book so long ago and had continued through all the final troubled stages of their marriage told him that maybe he hadn’t been quite as bad at the whole parenting thing as he’d come to believe. And the fact that they’d returned to the world of Montgomery and Montmorency to express that love was something very special indeed.
“And don’t read the end first!” Eddie yelled. “It’s meant to be a surprise.”
They talked for another five minutes and promised to chat again the following day.
Lester ended the call and looked up to find the Browns and Ryan talking quietly beside the fire, careful not to intrude on his private time with his children. He smiled at them and held out the book to Claudia.
She looked at the first few pages, a smile growing on her face. “They did this themselves? It’s beautiful, James. You must be very proud of them.”
He smiled and nodded, unable to speak.
“He is,” the fox said, with a wink and a smirk.
no subject
Date: 2021-12-30 07:50 am (UTC)