Somehow I could not imagine Marcia Martindale as mistress of the Hall. But it was no concern of mine and there was plenty at this time with which to occupy myself.
Cinderella was a continual source of panic and joy. Fiona had a pretty singing voice and we had found an exuberant wicked stepmother and two ugly sisters whose spirits were difficult to restrain, and who were determined to add touches of their own, to the despair of Eileen Eccles. Then Charlotte's costume didn't fit in a manner to please Miss Barston and there was pandemonium about that.
"For Heaven's sake!" cried Eileen. "It can't be worse at Drury Lane!"
There was the task of decorating the school and setting up a post box so that the girls could send Christmas cards to each other. On the morning before Cinderella was performed we had our postal delivery and two of the younger girls had postman's caps and very solemnly opened the box which had been set up in the refectory, and the cards were delivered to the various classes. There were gasps of oohs and ahs and much embracing and many expressions of heartfelt thanks.
A record number of parents came to watch Cinderella; they applauded wildly, declared it was charming and much better than last year's Dick Whittington, and it didn't matter in the least that one of the ugly sisters fell sprawling on the stage and her shoe went hurtling into the audience and that the second ugly sister forgot her fines and the prompter's voice was so loud that it could be heard all over the hall.
Everyone said it was delightful. Daisy was congratulated.
"Your girls have such beautiful manners," said one parent.
"I'm so glad you notice," replied Daisy smiling. "We are so insistent on deportment. More so I believe than in so many of these fashionable finishing schools."
It was triumph indeed.
The girls had gone and Teresa and I would be departing on the next day for Moldenbury. Another term was over. It had been a very interesting and pleasant one and it was partly due to the fact that Jason Verringer was absent. That fact gave a certain peace to the surroundings.
Christmas was a real success. Teresa had so looked forward to it that I feared she might have set her hopes too high and suffer disappointment.
But no, everything went perfectly.
We arrived a week before the Day and I was glad of that because it gave Teresa time to enjoy the anticipation of Christmas and all the preparations which I had often felt were more enjoyable than the feast itself.
She was able to help Violet with the pudding and the Christmas cake. All of which Violet said should have been done by this time. But there was Teresa sitting on a chair stoning raisins and shelling nuts, watching Violet like a dedicated priestess stirring the pudding and calling everyone in to have a stir, even the man who helped in the garden three times a week.
"Everyone must have a stir," said Violet mysteriously. "Otherwise ..."
She did not finish the sentence but the silence was more ominous than words could have been.
Then there was the smell which seemed to pervade the house while the puddings bubbled away in the copper in the little laundry room and Teresa was there when Violet, with the long stick which was used for pulling out clothes, expertly stuck the end through the loops in the pudding cloths and triumphantly lifted them out while we all looked on in wonder. There was the all-important little taster-a small basin with just enough for four in it. We would taste that after dinner and give our unbiased verdict.
It was wonderful to see Teresa's delight in these small happenings, and her face was very serious when her portion of the taster was placed before her. We tasted-all eyes on Violet, the connoisseur of Christmas puddings.
"A little too much cinnamon," she said. "I guessed it."
"Nonsense," said Aunt Patty. "It's perfect." "Could have been better."
"It's the best pudding I ever tasted," declared Teresa.
"You didn't taste last year's," said Violet.
"Well, I can't see anything wrong with it," insisted Aunt Patty. "I only hope next year's is half as good."
"So do I," said Teresa.
And there was a little silence which Aunt Patty quickly filled. Teresa had found a way into this home and she was welcome. I think both my aunt and Violet were gratified and delighted that she enjoyed being with us so much. But we had to admit that at any time she could be sent for by relations or even her parents.
I hoped Teresa did not notice the pause and we went on with the inquest on the taster.
Then there was the decorating. Aunt Patty had left this for us to do so that Teresa could share in it. We picked holly and ivy which was hung in the rooms and we made a wreath to hang on the door. We went carol singing with the church party and to Midnight Service on Christmas Eve after which we came back to hot soup at the kitchen table and, when we had finished it, Aunt Patty bustled us off to bed.
"You'll want to sleep late if you don't get off to bed," she said, "and that will shorten the great day."
In spite of our late night we were all up early on Christmas morning. The presents were lying under the tree and would be distributed after dinner which would be eaten at one o'clock. Aunt Patty, Teresa and I went to church; Violet stayed behind to cook the goose. After service many of us congregated in the porch to wish each other a happy Christmas and then Aunt Patty, Teresa and I walked home across the fields humming Come All Ye Faithful.
We all declared the goose was done to a turn, except Violet who insisted that it had been in the oven five minutes too long; the pudding lived up to the expectations established by the taster and the opening of presents began. Aunt Patty had woollen gloves for Teresa and Violet's offering was a scarf to match. I had bought her brushes and paints because rather to our surprise she had begun to improve with her art. She was not as good as Eugenie Verringer, Eileen had said, but her progress was remarkable. We were touched because she had painted pictures for us all and had had them framed in Colby. There was a bowl of violets for Violet very appropriate, we all declared; for Aunt Patty there was a garden scene with a girl seated on a chair wearing an enormous hat which covered her face, which was a mercy for I was sure that Teresa would never have managed anything so demanding; and for me a landscape with a house in the distance which looked a little like Colby Hall.
In the afternoon Aunt Patty and Violet dozed while Teresa and I went for a walk, skirting the woods where the pale wintry sunshine glinted through the bare branches of the trees and taking the path across the stubbly fields, revelling in the smell of the damp earth and watching the jackdaws and rooks looking for food on the broken soil.
We did not speak much but there was a contentment about us both.
In the evening there were visitors. Aunt Patty had made many friends in the village and we played childish games like In the Manner of the Word and Animal, Vegetable and Mineral, refreshing ourselves with sandwiches and Violet's parsnip and ginger wines.
Then there was Boxing Day when the postman and dustman came for their Christmas boxes, solemnly presented in sealed envelopes with Merry Christmas written on them; and visiting the vicarage in the afternoon for muffins and tea and Christmas cake with icing on top.
Violet, being a little gratified because the icing was a trifle hard, wondered whether she ought to tell the vicarage cook to put a drop-not much mind you-of glycerine in it next year to soften it.
This problem occupied her all the way home. Should she or shouldn't she? And we all took sides over this matter although I suppose none of us-except Violet - cared either way.
But that was how it was. There was so much delight and pleasure in the simple things. I watched Teresa's animated face and felt ashamed of myself. I had known so many Christmases like this but I had never really appreciated them before.