Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

‘HARK THE HERALD ANGELS SING! Glooooo-rrrry to the new born kiiiing.'

There's a round of applause as a lady in a fur-trimmed velvet gown stands up and bows to the small crowd and just like that I can say I've seen Jasper's grandmother's vibrato. I clap, trying to balance the cup of cranberry punch in my hands.

‘Canapé, miss,' a man in a tartan waistcoat asks me.

‘Don't mind if I do, thank you.' I try to act restrained but it's tiny Yorkshire puddings with what looks like horseradish and rare roast beef. In my opinion, these are the king of canapés. I'd gladly steal the whole tray and eat them myself, in my four-poster bed, wrapped in my heavy curtains. What is the etiquette here? Take more than one now or take the one and follow this man around? The canapé man stares at me for a moment, smiles and then wipes the corner of his mouth, handing me a cocktail napkin. It's so subtle, so kind.

I take the napkin, wiping at my lips. ‘Thank you…sorry, what's your name?'

He looks at me with wide eyes, unsure whether to reveal such information .

‘I'm Charles. You are very welcome, Miss Maggie.'

Yet he knows me. He looks down at the tray urging me to take another one. This is a way to secure a good and lasting friendship with me, Charles, it really is. He bows his head and walks away. In the corner of my eye, I see Jasper's grandmother still receiving praise for her grand festive solo, and the pianist kicks off another round of Christmas classics. I don't know how to describe this party but it feels like an event fit for some sort of embassy purpose. The kind you see in films where at the end of the night, a diamond auction will take place or they'll all gather around a roulette wheel. It extends into different rooms of the house, all elegantly lit and decorated with garlands and candles, with roaring fires. There is a bar set up where portly men swig at whisky and talk of their investments, and waiters dressed in seasonal tartan weave through the crowds with silver platters of smoked salmon and mince pies, or sit in the kitchen guarding what to me looks like a cheese buffet. Scrap following Charles around all night, maybe I'll just sit with the cheese.

‘Champagne?' a voice says next to me, pushing a glass into view.

‘I'm good with the punch,' I tell Jasper.

‘The punch was for the children, Maggie,' he tells me, looking down at the bits of fruit bobbing away in my glass.

‘Well, the Santa in the library was for the children and he invited me to sit on his knee.'

Jasper laughs, raucously, telling me that isn't his first glass of champagne. ‘That's Uncle Randall, I'd advise not sitting on the knee.'

Jasper has found me to be a huge amusement since that moment before when I emerged from those brocade curtains and fell into my bedroom. I don't really know why I hid or pretended to be a bird but I'm lucky he saw the funny side of it all and I feel especially lucky that the wonderful Miles also thought it hilarious .

‘I didn't tell you that you look very nice, by the way,' Jasper tells me, leaning against the stone fireplace in this hallway, festooned in garlands. I'm still getting used to this very unfamiliar side of him, the complimentary side that's not laced with sarcasm. ‘I'm glad you got another use out of that dress.' And there's the sarcasm.

‘How did you know?'

‘You showed me that selfie of you and Frank last night. It does suit you though, but what's that scent I'm getting…it's giving me patchouli, jasmine…' he smirks.

‘It's Febreze, you knob-end, and you know that,' I reply and he laughs again. He knows this because I asked one of the butlers and he had to retrieve some from the stables. Apparently, it's what they use to get rid of the smell of horse wee.

‘Well, if we are exchanging compliments then mine are genuine and I'd like to say you too look very swish. It's giving me 1940s smoking jacket meets international pimp,' I say, pointing my finger at him up and down. It's certainly a look. It's obvious Jasper has been told to wear a jacket tonight so he wears a very luxurious red velvet jacket with contrasting lapels over a T-shirt, suit trousers and trainers. ‘I feel like you need a cane.'

‘And big giant gold rings,' he jokes.

Secretly, I do like the colour co-ordination and the fact that we match.

‘JASPER!' a girl says, scurrying up to us with what looks like a Nintendo Switch hanging from her hands. The little girl is his niece and dressed in a deep green satin dress with a giant bow, white tights and patent-leather T-bar shoes. I met her father, Albert, briefly before. He looks like how you'd expect an older continental prince to look, one who is embroiled in scandal. ‘Look what Santa got me!'

Jasper smiles. I can't give this kid a Lindt reindeer now, can I? That is not a novelty gift you give at a party, that's a Christmas Day, under-the-tree sort of gift. I look over to Jasper, whose expression tells me he feels the same. ‘That's lovely, Fifi. Take care of it, yeah? Where's Cordy?'

She shrugs and runs off to show off her gift to another unsuspecting guest.

‘Fifi and Cordy?' I enquire.

‘Ophelia and Cordelia. Follows on from Cressida and her mother, Juliet.'

‘And the new baby? Is she called Lady Macbeth?' I ask.

Jasper snorts a bit of champagne through his nose though he seems impressed I know my Shakespearean tragedies. ‘No, that's little Hero, they went in another direction.'

‘Super posh,' I joke. ‘They don't call you uncle?' I enquire.

‘Oh, they've been trained well, that's why,' he says. ‘The grandmother with the vibrato, that's their maternal grandmother too. You should hear the words she calls me.'

‘To your face?' I ask, horrified. I watch as someone accompanies her through to the drawing room and deposits her on a Chesterfield. She's done her turn for the evening, she can now rest.

‘Oh, they always blame her age and alcohol intake but she never warmed to me,' he says. ‘You can imagine if she knew I was gay then she'd turn on me completely.'

‘Well, her loss. I think you're bloody great,' I say casually, and he turns to me, extracting the compliment in my words and half-smiling.

‘Miles!' Jasper suddenly yells and I turn to see him entering the room, a vision in a traditional tuxedo. He approaches us and his greeting with Jasper is not as physical as before, they keep their distance from each other and it makes me a bit sad to know they have to hide that from certain people in the room.

‘Maggie. Looking exquisite,' he tells me, smiling. I will forever be known as curtain girl to him, won't I?

‘I am so sorry about before. I feel like a prize idiot,' I tell him .

‘I found it a very original entrance,' he jokes.

‘Can we start again maybe?' I ask. ‘Hi! I'm Maggie. I work with Jasper.'

‘Miles. My dad is the groundsman here on the estate and I pretty much grew up with Jasper here.'

They grew up together. I love this story too much. And I don't quite know why I do this but I reach out to hug Miles which catches him slightly unawares. ‘It's really good to meet you,' I say with a bit too much enthusiasm. That was too much. ‘I mean, it's nice to meet everyone today. Jasper never talks about his family and acquaintances so this is lovely, all of it.' I really am giving off buffoon vibes, I can't even blame alcohol as I'm drinking out of the kids' punch bowl.

‘Well, you're very sweet and very kind,' Miles replies. There is something about him, a good energy in his smile which makes me instantly like him.

‘So tell me, what do you do?' I ask him.

‘Well, I'm a history teacher in London.'

‘And you and Jasper are housemates…' I say.

Jasper and Miles both smile, seemingly impressed that I am helping them maintain their charade.

‘In Golder's Green,' Jasper tells me.

‘Well, if you want, it would be good to hang out. I'm in Shepherd's Bush. That's what, sixteen stops away on the train, one line change?' Jasper gives me a look. How do you know how many stops it is? Why are you acting like some weird trainspotter? Luckily, Miles finds me amusing. ‘My dad worked on the Underground, that's how I know. I'm not weird.'

‘Well, that is good to know. And that sounds like a fantastic idea. How are you enjoying your Moormount experience?' he asks, knowing that all of this is way out of my zone of experience. When I was little, Christmas parties involved inviting my parents' friends round. We played charades, ate crisps and mini pizzas, and everyone drank wine until they fell over .

‘It is interesting. So, you grew up around this, none of this surprises you?' I ask him.

He looks around, laughing. ‘Oh, I know their stories, how it all fits together. Look out later when Cressida will get so incredibly drunk, we will have to wheelbarrow her back to her lodge.'

‘Speak of the devil,' Jasper mumbles out of the side of his mouth. We look over to the main door of the house where the doors have swung open and Cressida stands there in a cut-out slinky white dress surrounded by the four people who had been travelling with her before. She air-kisses a few people by the door, handing her coat and keys to one of the butlers without making eye contact and I see how that annoys Miles greatly. She makes a beeline for us.

‘Jasper, what on earth are you wearing?'

‘Clothes.'

‘I think he looks great,' Miles says, but his words go unheard.

Cressida shakes her head. ‘All, this is my youngest brother, Jasper. You're the bizarre girl who fell out of the curtains,' she says, eyeing me up.

I don't know why I do this, but I own up to this by putting my hand to the air, which makes Miles smirk. ‘I am Maggie. I'm sorry we met like that. It's good to meet you – Cressida, yes?' She looks me up and down, pretty much confirming that she finds me a bit odd. ‘And hello to you all, too.' I say waving at the assortment of men surrounding her, all of whom seem to like a tuxedo without socks and wanky loafers. Jasper and Miles don't extend them the same courtesy.

‘Are you skiing too?' she asks me.

‘No.'

‘Oh. Jasper, the children are skiing. I'm not impressed. I don't want to spend my Christmas hearing those maggots screaming for a week. '

‘Cressida is also known for her strong maternal instinct,' Jasper says.

‘Fuck off, Jasper.'

‘Gladly, bar's that way,' he says, pointing through to the next room. ‘I believe they're expecting you. They ordered in extra.'

She glares at him before looking around the room. ‘Oh boys, you must meet Benedict, his daddy is in shipping. Glorious house in Monaco,' she says, gliding over to said person, her entourage in tow.

We all stare at her curiously. ‘She's a delight,' I say to Miles and Jasper. ‘She didn't even acknowledge you, Miles.'

‘That's because I'm the help and she will always see me as the help. The help carry coats at the annual Christmas party, they are not guests,' he informs me. I can't help but look annoyed by this. ‘When Carmel realised Jasper and I were friends, she used to invite me into the house more to hang out with him. I started being a regular fixture for parties and the occasional holiday and Cressida hated it.'

I smile to hear how Carmel possibly understood Miles' role in Jasper's life, that she ensured he had someone to level out his isolation.

‘Are you going skiing?' I ask him.

‘Yeah. We should leave early, get there first so Cressida has to have the room right next to the kids, yes?' he tells Jasper.

‘I like that plan.' He smiles and shakes his hand. I smile back to see them plotting. Miles is nice and, though I'm mildly upset that Jasper kept him from me, seeing them together completely diminishes that.

‘MAGGIE!' a voice chimes behind me and it's Carmel, radiant in a long, sequinned wrap dress, big eighties-style curls finishing off the glamour. ‘You look so pretty!'

‘Likewise, you look amazing, Carmel,' I say, looking her up and down .

‘And beautiful Miles, how are you? So handsome.'

Carmel is not like her step-daughter, for which I'm glad. She's warm and invested in people and doesn't look down at Miles in any way; he's simply part of her family.

‘I'm good, Carmel. You look radiant.'

‘Don't be fooled, it's all these sequins refracting, giving me the good light. Did you forget a shirt, Jassy?'

Jasper sighs. ‘Are you saying I look terrible?'

‘I am saying you look interesting. You are lucky you have such an adorable face though, that pulls it all off.'

He tries not to react but leans in to kiss her on the cheek. ‘You look divine as always, Mum.'

I scrunch up my face to hear him being so sweet to his mum. He needs to bring that into work but I may not say that out loud. Over the way, Cressida's loud and crass tones can be heard, still harping on to five possibly complete strangers about the estate and how they should come in the summer so they can go swimming in the lake.

‘Has she said hello to you yet?' Jasper asks her mum.

‘Oh god, no. Leave her be,' Carmel says. I stand there sipping at my punch, not quite knowing where to look. Doesn't Carmel live here? ‘You?' Carmel asks.

‘Oh, she came to try and steal my room, looked Maggie up and down and complained to me about Albert's kids coming skiing.'

And for the first time since I've met her, I see a sadness there in Carmel's expression. You can sense she's someone who exudes a lot of light and Cressida is the sort of person who's mostly shade, who snuffs out flames.

Miles goes over and puts his hand out. ‘Come on, Miss Carmel. Let's get you a big drink.'

I see a glimmer of a smile from her, letting him know that's a very good idea. ‘Jasper, make sure you show Maggie the cheese, yes?' It's like she already knows me .

We both nod, watching as they link arms and head into the other room. I see Jasper smiling as he watches them.

‘Have they always been that close?' I ask him.

‘Always. She's like an aunt of sorts. He's equally as protective of her,' he tells me and I watch his continued gaze. I know that look, the way you search for someone in a room.

‘Jasper. I like him. He's very…'

‘Completely the opposite to me?' he jokes.

‘Well, there is that…' I laugh.

He takes a large sip of his drink, his face lit by the roaring fire next to us. ‘I am sorry I never told you about him. He's very precious to me and we work hard to preserve what we have, and sometimes that just means not letting people in,' he explains.

It's a rare moment of sensitivity from Jasper and I can't help but lean into him and give him a hug.

‘Don't be daft. I'm starting to understand how the complicated family dynamics make things difficult. But…' He stands there waiting, possibly for judgement. ‘Not that it means anything, really, but I think the both of you together is a magnificent thing. I want to say I'm an ally without it sounding trite. Just know I'm here.'

‘You stan,' he jokes.

I laugh and push his shoulder. ‘That. Always.'

He stops for a moment trying to contain his smile and I wish I could frame his face to see him so happy. ‘Well, that means more than you know.'

Don't cry, Maggie. Because Jasper has let you in. He has trusted you with something very private about him. It just aches that deep down I know I have to make a difficult decision, that maybe that trust and admiration he has for me is misplaced. Maybe I should tell him.

‘Actually. I wanted to talk to you about something,' I say tentatively .

But before I can get the words out, a loud clanging metallic toot sounds around the hallway and I jump a little in my skin.

‘For fuck's sake. I thought we'd hidden Albert's trumpet,' Jasper moans.

‘Is he going to play some music?' I ask.

‘Music is not the term for the sound that comes out of that thing. I've heard elephants pass wind more melodically,' he grumbles.

He glares across the room. ‘Come on. Let's go get some grapes from the cheese table and we can throw them at him.'

‘Really?'

‘Well, I'm not wasting the good brie on him…' he jokes, and he puts an arm out so he can lead me away. ‘Did you want to ask me something?'

I did have something to ask him. But maybe now's not the time.