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my baby. I find it hard to wait until April.’
    ‘I hope it’s a girl,’ I said. ‘I want a girl.’
    ‘Jeremy wants a boy.’
    ‘Men always want boys. They want to see themselves born again.’
    ‘Dear Clarissa, you have been such a joy to me and Jeremy.’
    ‘I know.’
    She laughed again. ‘You always say what you mean, don’t you?’ she said.
    I thought for a moment and answered; ‘Not always.’
    So we went to Eversleigh and there were the usual Christmas celebrations. Benjie came on Christmas Eve and was delighted to see me.
    On Christmas Eve we went as we always did to Eversleigh Church for the midnight service. That had always been to me one of the best parts of Christmas—singing the Christmas hymns and carols and then walking across the fields to the Court, where there would be hot soup and toasted bread and mulled wine and plum cake waiting for us. We would discuss the service and compare it with the previous year’s and everyone would be merry and wide awake. In the past we had all been discussing the parts we would play in Harriet’s charades. She had always arranged them and given us our parts and presided over them. We would all remember that.
    In our bedrooms fires would be blazing in the grates and there would be warming-pans in our beds. Anita and I had to share a room, for although there were numerous rooms, the east wing of the house was shut up and dust-sheeted.
    We didn’t mind that in the least and we lay awake on the night of Christmas Eve, late as it was, because the day had been too stimulating to induce sleep. Anita told me of Christmases in the rectory with an old aunt who had come to stay with them and how there was so much cheeseparing that she did enjoy being in a household where there was plenty. She had been terrified when she had thought she might have to go and live with the old aunt, and had chosen to attempt to earn a living instead.
    ‘Dear Anita,’ I said, ‘you will always have a home here.’
    She replied that it was kind of me to console her, but her position was precarious, as it must necessarily be, and if she were to offend certain people she could be dismissed.
    ‘Damaris would not easily be offended,’ I reassured her, ‘And she would never turn you away if you had nowhere to go. You’re creating a situation which might never arise.’
    Anita laughed because that was what she had once told me I was doing.
    So we talked of pleasant things, but I did realize that fear was lurking in Anita’s mind and I wished there was something I could do to comfort her.
    Christmas morning was bright and sparkling with the frost glistening on the grass and branches of the beech and oak trees making it like a fairy-tale scene. The ponds were frozen but as the sun was rising that would soon be altered. The carol singers came in the morning and there was the traditional custom of inviting them in while they sang especially for us and afterwards ate plum cake and drank punch mixed for the purpose in the great punchbowl. Anita and I were set to fill goblets and it was just like other Christmases which I remembered since I came to England.
    Then there was the great Christmas dinner with various meats—turkey, chicken, ham and beef, with so many pies made in all sorts of shapes, that the table was weighed down with food. There was plum pudding and plum porridge—this last I had not seen before. It was like a soup made with raisins and spices.
    Afterwards we played all sorts of games including hide-and-seek all over the house. We did charades too, but that was a mistake because it reminded us of Harriet. Priscilla quickly suggested another game. We danced to the fiddlers and some of us sang. Several of our neighbours had joined us and we were a large party, but I was sure some of the family were greatly relieved when the day was over.
    ‘Christmases after a bereavement must necessarily be shadowed by sadness,’ said Anita.
    We lay awake again that night and I told her more