‘I suppose it won’t be the same as having Christmas, or are you going to have presents and a tree?’ Julia grinned.
‘It’ll be bloody cold for a start,’ Connie said forcefully. ‘But we can have lots of fires—I love fires, don’t you? Central heating’s so soulless. And I refuse to be done out of the little time we have every year to be together as a real family. I had to brow-beat the lot of them; threaten to kidnap Steven but I refuse to be deprived. Charles is getting out of school a week early and we’ll have an entire month. Could you stand us for that long?’
‘I’d love it,’ said Julia warmly. ‘But surely Mrs Brabbage could cope if it’s just family.’
‘Housekeeping’s her limit at the moment,’ Connie’s voice softened in affection. ‘She finally persuaded that stubborn husband of hers to have his hip operation. He’s out of the hospital but still not very mobile, and won’t be for a while yet. Jean will come in every day to do a bit of cleaning—”to take her out of herself” as she puts it—but she won’t be able to cook for us. Hence you!’
‘Thanks for thinking of me,’ said Julia, feeling sorry for Jack Brabbage. He was a tiny, wiry man, in contrast to his massive wife, and the sort who would jibe at a long period of inactivity. ‘Or wasn’t I first choice?’
Connie gave her a look of wide-eyed innocence, then laughed, the clear, joyous sound that was her trademark. ‘Actually I hadn’t anyone in mind until I saw Phillip on opening night. When he told me he was going away it was like a sign from the gods.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t ring you straight away, but he didn’t tell me about the offer until yesterday.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Connie shrugged her apology away, ‘I know how these businessmen are. And don’t worry that you might get snowed under with work, I’ve issued dire threats to anyone who turns up with hangers-on. And I’ve told everyone to keep their mouths shut, a necessity these days I’m afraid.’ She displayed a gamine grin. ‘Richard and Ros have collected quite a fan club over these television series of theirs, and Steven is constantly pursued by weirdos— pink hair and safety pins, and that’s only the boys!’ The last was said on a rising note of outrage but the green eyes glittered like jewels in amusement. Connie had the broadmindedness of her profession and in her case this extended to a patient and generous tolerance of all except the most unrepentantly evil people.
‘Pursuit is an occupational hazard for rock stars,’ Julia replied in the same vein. ‘I seem to remember you with safety pins and pink hair at one time.’
‘That was acting darling, these people are real life. Anyway, you agree then, do you?’ Connie named a very fair figure and Julia nodded. ‘Believe me, darling, you’ll earn every penny, the family is bigger and hungrier than ever. You should see Charles now, he’s getting on for six foot! He was in the school play this term, you know. Has the makings of a fine actor. I thought I might see if Michael can pull some strings while we’re down in Wellington and get him an audition at the Drama School.’ This was all said on one breath but it was Julia, not Connie, who was left gasping.
They discussed terms and Julia agreed to travel down to Craemar a few days ahead of the family to prepare for their arrival. The nearest store was quite a distance from the bush-clad valley in which Craemar nestled so there would be no nipping out to the shops if she ran out of anything essential.
‘Now business is settled, why don’t we go inside and get a cup of coffee?’ suggested Connie, looking up at the lowering sky. ‘I think it’s going to rain at any moment.’
They reached the french doors of the lounge just as the torrent began and Julia brushed off the heavy drops before settling comfortably on the sagging grey couch. While Connie fetched the coffee Julia looked around the slightly shabby room. It was a very much lived-in room, the kind that Julia felt at home in.
‘Julia Fry, by all that’s holy! Light of my life, where have you been hiding these last few months?’
‘Hello, Richard,’ Julia jumped up to offer a light kiss, and receive an enthusiastic one in exchange from the tall, handsome, red-headed young man who had materialised before her. He dropped beside her on the couch and threw an arm over her shoulder.
‘You’re looking ravishing, sweetheart. Coming to slave for us are you?’
‘I couldn’t resist the chance to be close to my favourite TV star,’ Julia batted her eyelashes at him and they grinned at each other. She had known Richard on and off since they had met in London, Julia working as a cook at the New Zealand embassy and Richard going to RADA. They had the kind of friendship that survived gaps of months, even years, in which they never saw each other. ‘I hear you’ve made it to the big time. Which crowd scene are you going to be in? Or have you actually got a speaking part in this movie?’
‘Wretch!’ howled Richard. ‘It’s the lead, as well you know. And what about my Festival coup, aren’t you going to congratulate me on that?’
‘I think you’ll make a fantastic Romeo,’ she said sincerely, having read about it in the papers.
‘With Dad directing I couldn’t really miss, could I,’ said Richard modestly. Both of them knew that Michael Marlow was ruthless as a director; nepotism didn’t get a look in. On the other hand he didn’t give a damn about rumours of favouritism, if his son was the best for the part, it was his.
‘And Connie’s playing the nurse. How come Ros wasn’t picked for Juliet?’
‘That would have been a bit too incestuous.’ He winked, ‘Besides, Dad’s discovered this perfect gem of a sixteen-year-old. Gorgeous little thing, and madly in love with me, of course,’ he hammed outrageously.
‘Aren’t we all.’ Richard’s ridiculous megastar act never failed to bring Julia out in the giggles.
‘I thought I heard sounds of violent over-acting.’ Connie entered carrying a tray with three cups on it. ‘Don’t you have a rehearsal this morning, young man?’ Richard was currently on stage,
doing readings of seventeenth-century poetry.
‘They let me off for good behaviour. I’m free to autograph a fan or two.’ He ruffled Julia’s blonde, shoulder-length curls and leered wickedly at her.
Julia sipped her coffee and listened to the by-play between mother and son, wondering why she had never fallen in love with Richard. She had certainly had the time and opportunity, and he was extremely attractive. Lack of challenge, perhaps? Or the conviction that a sudden, tempestuous love awaited her somewhere?
‘Why didn’t you come backstage and see me!’ cried Richard, on learning that Julia had seen his current production.
‘Couldn’t be bothered fighting my way through the panting hordes at the stage door,’ said Julia mildly.
‘Isn’t it incredible,’ agreed his mother. ‘If only they knew what a moody, slovenly, emotionally immature beast he was, they’d be fighting to get away.’