The Golden Oldies Guesthouse (ARC) Read online

  ‘Simon says Damien’s thinking of going solo,’ Tess said. ‘So who knows?’

  ‘Sure, nobody’s perfect,’ said Orla.

  * * *

  When everyone returned some time later they’d all had drinks and crisps and, Simon said, he’d even had the forethought to line them all up at the pub toilets before they came back, ‘Knowing our limited facilities,’ he added.

  As they gathered in the makeshift sitting room, Ellie asked anxiously, ‘Will Father Christmas know that we’re here and not at home?’

  ‘Of course he will,’ said Matt. ‘Father Christmas knows everything.’

  Ellie still looked doubtful, a frown appearing under her blonde fringe.

  ‘In fact,’ Matt went on, ‘it’ll be easier for him here because he can come straight down the chimney and not have to battle his way round the log burner like he would at home.’

  This seemed to satisfy the six-year-old Ellie, but both children remained in a state of feverish excitement, willing the hours away so they could hang up their stockings. Lisa explained that Santa would probably unload most of his goodies in the hall, around the tree, but that they could each have a stocking upstairs beside their bed, and he’d leave a few things up there for them, too, so that they’d have something to open first thing.

  Tess prepared an early supper of a lamb casserole with mountains of vegetables and potatoes, washed down with great quantities of wine, and followed by mince pies. Everyone was ready for an early night, after they formed a stately queue to visit the toilet and have a quick wash.

  As they settled down to sleep in Windsor Castle, Simon said, ‘I wonder what it’ll be like in the morning?’

  ‘Probably chaotic!’ Tess said happily, excited for the first time in years at the prospect of a family Christmas.

  9

  A CORNISH CHRISTMAS DAY

  At seven o’clock on Christmas morning, as Tess pulled back the curtains in Windsor Castle, she espied Orla roaming around outside in her nightie and dressing-gown. She opened the outside door and called out, ‘Orla?’

  ‘Merry Christmas!’ Orla shouted cheerfully. ‘Just trying to find somewhere to pee!’

  ‘Do you mean to say,’ Tess said, stifling a yawn, ‘that the bathroom is permanently occupied at this hour?’

  ‘No,’ Orla said, as she came in, ‘it isn’t. But your dear little grandson decided to swing backwards and forwards on the pull-chain which has, of course, broken off. It’s a holy miracle he didn’t bring the whole cistern down. Now no one can flush the damned thing.’

  ‘What’s all the fuss?’ asked a bleary-eyed Simon as he shuffled along from the bedroom.

  ‘Merry Christmas to you, too,’ Orla said. ‘Please can I use your chemical toilet?’

  While Orla used their makeshift conveniences Tess explained the problem to Simon.

  ‘Dear Lord,’ he sighed.

  Josh had had a Guardians of the Galaxy costume in his stocking which, at the crack of dawn, he’d insisted on putting on because he wanted to see if he could fly. With his parents both half asleep he’d launched himself at the chain dangling in the bathroom and, on one of his more daring manoeuvres, the chain had collapsed on top of him, causing some wailing on his part, and a lot of swearing from everyone else.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ Matt muttered when Simon, still in his pyjamas and dressing-gown, appeared with a stepladder and a length of rope. ‘The little devil sneaked through unbeknown to us. Ellie was supposed to be keeping an eye on him.’ At this Ellie started wailing, too.

  Tess watched as Simon climbed up the steps with the rope. And then Orla appeared. ‘No need to go hanging yourself!’ she said cheerfully.

  ‘Very funny,’ said Simon from the top of the ladder as he attached the rope to what remained of the chain and directed his gaze at a still blubbering Josh. ‘Do not as much as touch this rope, Josh! Do you understand?’

  Josh nodded while hiding his face in the folds of his mother’s dressing-gown. Tess looked with disbelief at the trail of toys, games and wrapping paper strewn across every floor.

  ‘He woke us up at half past four,’ Matt informed his mother, ‘to show us what Father Christmas had brought.’

  ‘He’s always been trouble,’ Lisa said, ‘ever since he arrived in the middle of Amber’s wedding.’

  Tess headed towards the kitchen, wading her way through the hallway, the floor of which was already covered in half-opened presents and toys, some of them amazingly large. The plan was to have a massive fry-up for breakfast, accompanied by Buck’s Fizzes and then aim on having lunch mid-afternoon. As she plugged in the convector heater she heard the toilet flush upstairs, so Simon’s rope must have done the trick. And both children were now running round the hallway and opening yet more presents, scattering wrapping paper with gay abandon.

  Simon appeared, still in his pyjamas. ‘I’m going to wash at the kitchen sink,’ he announced, ‘so that the bathroom is free for our visitors.’

  Tess sighed as she prepared the turkey for the oven. ‘Simon, you’ll have to get out of my way because I need to stuff this bird,’ she said.

  Lisa had come down to oversee the chaos in the hallway and to help Josh unwrap his main present: a small blue tricycle, which caused screams of delight. ‘He asked Father Christmas for that,’ Ellie informed Tess, ‘and I was worried he might not be able to get it down the chimney. ’Cos it’s quite big.’

  ‘It certainly is,’ Tess agreed, wondering how much further chaos he might manage to create on three wheels. Ellie was sitting on the hall floor playing with a large doll’s house which Matt and Simon had spent the previous evening fitting together with a great deal of brandy and swearing. Tess went back into the kitchen to finish stuffing the turkey, and found Simon was standing naked at the sink.

  Then Orla arrived on the scene. ‘Oh my God!’ she exclaimed, sighting Simon.

  ‘Cover your eyes, Orla! I think we might need Buck’s Fizz,’ Tess said. ‘Can you do the honours?’ She directed Orla to the glasses on the shelf and the relevant bottles positioned in the fridge.

  Simon tied his towel round his waist to protect his modesty and grinned at Orla. ‘Let me wish you Merry Christmas, my treasure!’

  ‘Not until you’ve put your clothes on,’ Orla retorted as she opened a bottle of Moët. ‘Am I supposed to be impressed or something?’

  ‘Yes,’ Simon replied, ‘you are. But try to control your lust because my dear wife is here watching us.’ He gently smacked Tess’s bottom, stuck his feet into his mules, and set off for Windsor Castle.

  As Lisa came back into the kitchen she said, ‘Apparently we’re flushed with success upstairs. I’ve had a quick shower with that hand-held attachment in the bath, and now Matt’s doing the same. Is that a Buck’s Fizz I see?’

  ‘It is,’ said Orla, handing her a glass.

  Half an hour later, Amber Skyped. ‘Hi, everyone! Happy Christmas!’ said this suntanned vision in a bright pink bikini, clutching what appeared to be some sort of exotic cocktail.

  ‘Wish you could be here,’ Tess said sincerely. Then, looking round the kitchen, added, ‘You might not agree.’

  ‘Well, that would be nice,’ said Amber, ‘but it’s cocktail time here and I’ve just had a lovely swim. The sea is like a warm bath. How’s it with you?’

  ‘Freezing!’ Simon hollered. ‘Sea’s freezing, we’re freezing and your nephew has just buggered up our one and only loo.’

  ‘Sorry I’m missing all the excitement,’ Amber said, raising her glass, ‘but I’d still like to be with you.’

  It was about ten o’clock before everyone was dressed and congregated round the kitchen table. Tess and Simon were cooking batches of bacon, sausages and eggs, Orla was in charge of baked beans and mushrooms, and Lisa was making a pile of toast. Almost everyone was on their second Buck’s Fizz by the time they sat down to eat.

  Josh refused to be parted from his tricycle and Lisa attempted to spoon some food into him each time he circumnavigated the
table. Ellie wanted to help, and was allowed to remove the empty plates, one by one, and stack them in the dishwasher.

  Simon had got the fire going in the room across the hall, and had placed a fireguard in front of it, fearful of Josh’s apparent lack of any sense of danger. ‘Time to open presents,’ he announced hopefully.

  Orla came into the kitchen, having been upstairs, and said, ‘That daughter-in-law of yours has been in that bathroom for a good ten minutes.’

  ‘Some things take time,’ Tess said, checking on the turkey.

  ‘Not this much time,’ snapped Orla. ‘I bet she’s beautifying herself in there in front of the one and only mirror.’

  Tess realised she hadn’t thought of that. The mirrors were still wrapped in cardboard and stacked away somewhere, and she should really have thought to lean one against the wall in each of the bedrooms. Perhaps she’d do it later, if she ever had a moment to herself. When Lisa eventually emerged from the bathroom Orla hotfooted it in there with exaggerated sighs of relief. In the meantime, Simon and Matt were conferring as to whether or not they should organise everyone to have a walk – after they’d opened their presents.

  ‘Spectacular views from the top of the cliff,’ Simon said. ‘It’s worth the climb, and at least it’s not raining. Not sure about the kids.’

  ‘Well, I can carry Josh on my shoulders,’ Matt said, looking around. ‘Where is he anyway?’

  Somehow or another Josh had managed to open the door to the rear sitting room and was merrily riding at speed round the piled-up furniture and boxes.

  ‘Dear God,’ Simon said, ‘if he knocked that lot over he’d be squashed to bits.’ With some difficulty Josh was persuaded to abandon this new race track, and threatened with removal of the tricycle altogether if he went anywhere near these rooms again.

  ‘I’ll take him outside,’ Matt said. ‘He can whizz around on the terrace.’

  Simon sighed. ‘Just don’t let him topple over that wall!’

  Present opening was sporadic with everyone coming and going and then discovering something else labelled for them and coming back in again. Tess had a beautiful black cashmere sweater from Simon, which she was desperate to wear there and then, but didn’t dare in case she spilled something on it. She’d given Simon the electric drill he’d been going on about, and she gave Orla a year’s subscription to Vogue.

  Orla presented her with a length of beautiful bronze-coloured raw silk. ‘That’s for you to make something lovely for yourself,’ she said, ‘so you don’t waste all your expertise on curtain making.’

  ‘It’s beautiful, Orla, thank you.’ Tess held up the silk and wondered briefly if she’d ever have the time again to make anything for herself. Perhaps next winter, when there was no sanding down to be done, no painting, no decorating, no curtain making. Would that day ever come?

  * * *

  An hour later they all straggled their way up Penhennon cliff.

  ‘Wish we hadn’t eaten so much breakfast,’ Matt remarked as, with Josh astride his shoulders, he made his way carefully up the steep path.

  It was a dry day, mostly cloudy but with occasional appearances from the sun. And when the sun did appear the sea glittered, the birds sang, and it could almost have been spring. Tess and Orla brought up the rear of the little procession, Ellie swinging between them.

  ‘You didn’t tell me this was so steep,’ bleated Orla.

  ‘You get used to it,’ Tess replied. ‘Anyway, if you’d known it was steep I’d never have got you out of the house, would I? And you need fresh air.’

  ‘It’s all right for you, you’ve kept the weight off after our stint at Slim Chance,’ Orla puffed. ‘And this view had better be good.’

  Each time Tess made it to the top she was enchanted again by the panorama of rocky coastline with cliffs stretching all the way from Hartland Point in the north – with the silhouette of Lundy Island on the horizon – and right the way down to Trevose Head in the south. Fortunately, today it was clear enough to see most of it: the Atlantic rollers crashing against the overhanging cliffs, the coves with their stretches of sand, the crying of the ever-circling seagulls. Even Orla said, ‘Wow!’ and grudgingly admitted that it was probably worth her aching legs and gasping lungs. ‘Another few yards and I’d be needing an oxygen tent,’ she informed everyone.

  ‘I believe Jed’s open today,’ Simon said, looking round at everyone hopefully. ‘I could murder a pint of Doom Bar, just,’ he added hastily, ‘so we have an excuse to use their loo.’

  There were murmured agreements as they all began their descent. Tess had never, in her entire life, seen so many people so obsessed with finding a toilet. For decades one bathroom per family had been the norm for the lucky families who didn’t have to troop down to some makeshift privy at the foot of the garden. She could well remember her sister monopolising their bathroom when they were teenagers and her father hammering at the door shouting, ‘What in the name of goodness are you doing in there?’

  Jed had boasted that he opened up every day of the year, including Christmas Day, and sure enough he’d opened up. The fire in The Portmerryn Arms was blazing merrily, Annie had positioned an artificial tree close to the window, liberally adorned with tinsel, and Jed was even offering mulled wine, ‘for the ladies, like.’ The normal four domino players rattled away in the corner, with their pints of beer, as they did every day of the year. Simon and Matt had their pints of Doom Bar, the ladies sipped the mulled wine, and everyone used the toilet. They then headed back up the hill to continue their festivities at home.

  * * *

  It was almost four o’clock when they sat down to Christmas lunch. There was a smoked salmon starter followed by the turkey, which was succulent and delicious, with all the trimmings: roast potatoes, roasted winter vegetables, pigs-in-blankets and sprouts. Nobody really liked sprouts very much but all agreed it wouldn’t be Christmas without the damned things. And Orla’s Christmas pudding went down a treat. Even Josh was persuaded to sit at the table for a short time before demanding to be reunited with his precious tricycle, amid strict instructions to stay in the hallway, not to open any doors, keep away from the fire, and not scoot around the kitchen colliding with everyone’s chairs while they were trying to eat.

  It was while they were in the middle of Christmas pudding, in a state of great merriment fuelled by gallons of alcohol, that the crash occurred.

  A very, very loud resounding crash. Followed by howling.

  ‘What the…?’ Matt and Lisa both rushed out into the hallway, followed closely by Tess and Simon.

  The Christmas tree had crashed onto the floor, tinsel and baubles scattered from one end of the hall to the other. And, lying on the floor, the tricycle having fallen over, was Josh, yelling at full volume, ‘Naughty tree!’

  As Simon and Matt heaved the tree back up into some sort of upright position, Lisa attended to her tiny screaming son. There was chaos as everyone rushed to retrieve some of the scattered baubles.

  ‘How could a tiny boy like this knock over a thundering great tree like that?’ Simon asked. ‘I had it firmly in the pot.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Matt said. ‘He’s a one-man demolition squad. I’m so terribly sorry.’

  ‘Perhaps he needs to have a nap?’ Orla asked hopefully.

  As Lisa wiped the last of his tears away she said, ‘I think it might be better all round if he were to skip his nap and go to bed early so we can have some sort of civilised evening.’

  Matt insisted on tidying up the hall, clearing the floor of spilled earth, assorted toys and torn wrapping paper. Both children – having exhausted themselves with their new toys and having been up since the early hours – were persuaded to go to bed at seven o’clock, Josh demanding that the precious tricycle was positioned near his bed so he could see it. As Lisa came downstairs she reported that both had fallen asleep almost immediately and she’d brought the tricycle downstairs again just in case Josh might wake up and take off on the wretched thing to do furt
her damage.

  Tess had laid out a cold food table, including seafood, a large ham and assorted salad, in the kitchen, and invited everyone to help themselves as and when they felt like it. Orla, carried away by the success of her pudding, now insisted on making Irish coffees. ‘Shall we play charades?’ she asked. There were groans all round.

  ‘Listen, if it’s good enough for the Queen it’s good enough for us,’ she persisted.

  With that she began to make some weird arm movements, after informing everyone it was a book.

  ‘Why are you making L-signs and V-signs and crosses?’ Simon asked.

  Orla shook her head and began again, ending up with pointing at the ceiling.

  ‘We give up,’ Lisa said wearily. Everyone agreed with much nodding.

  ‘Fifty Shades of Grey!’ Orla said triumphantly.

  ‘How could that be Fifty Shades of Grey?’ Tess asked.

  ‘Because you’re all thick as planks,’ said Orla. ‘Now, look…’ She made some more elaborate V-signs and Xs. ‘Five multiplied by ten, Roman numerals, equals fifty. Or L, which I think also stands for fifty. Honestly! It’s so easy! And I’m looking up at the grey sky.’

  ‘You’re looking up at a white ceiling,’ said Matt.

  ‘Which I’ve just painted,’ added Tess.

  ‘You have no imaginations,’ said Orla. ‘I’ll do another one. A song.’ She then began to prance round the room waving her arms, followed by pointing at her bottom, and then grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl.

  ‘That’s cheating,’ said Simon. ‘You’re not allowed to use props.’

  ‘I’m not cheating!’ Orla roared.

  ‘So, it’s something to do with an apple?’ Tess asked.

  Orla nodded and made a large circle with her hands.

  ‘A round apple?’ Lisa suggested.

  Orla shook her head and re-enacted the entire ritual.