‘He does seem to be her shadow, I can’t think what’s got into him,’ Jude said, staring at his dog. ‘So, Holly Brown, you’ve wormed your way into the heart of the family in a very short space of time, haven’t you? You seem to be a very dangerous, Becky Sharp sort of woman to me. And I’m still positive I know you from somewhere.’

Having read Vanity Fair, I wasn’t too keen on being likened to Becky Sharp — and I certainly wasn’t a fortune hunter out to marry him!

‘We all thought she looked familiar too,’ Noël said, ‘but I expect it’s only that she has the Martland look — the dark hair, height and light olive skin. So not only does she feel like a member of the family already, she also looks like one and fits right in!’

‘I suppose that could be it,’ Jude agreed.

‘But I get my light grey eyes and dark hair from my grandmother,’ I put in quickly. ‘In fact, apart from being tall and dark, I don’t really look like any of you.’

‘You’re much prettier than Jude, that’s for sure,’ said Guy, eyeing me thoughtfully. ‘Though pretty isn’t really the right word — you’re beautiful, in an unusual way.’

‘What, me?’ I said, astonished. After years of bullying about my height and looks, not to mention Gran’s repeated assertion that I had no reason to be vain, I found this hard to believe.

‘Yes — even George looked smitten with you — and if he didn’t kiss you under that handy bunch of mistletoe in the porch before you brought him in, why were you blushing?’

‘It was nothing, he just took me by surprise. I hadn’t even noticed the mistletoe hung in the porch until he grabbed me.’ I could feel myself going pink again, because there was no mistaking that George fancied me!

‘Becca and I hung that up,’ Noël explained. ‘There’s always a bunch of mistletoe there.’

Behind me, Coco’s piercing voice could be heard saying to Michael, ‘Guy said that housekeeper woman was beautiful — but she’s not, is she? And I mean, she might be tall enough to be a model, but she’s way too fat!’

I turned round and snapped, ‘If you think being a healthy weight is fat, then you’re sick! In any case, I’d rather be fat than so skinny I rattled when I walked! Excuse me: if no-one’s leaving, I’d better go and do something about lunch.’

I went out to the kitchen since clearly I hadn’t got much option but to stay, unless the roads miraculously cleared and this now seemed unlikely. Lunch was only going to be soup and sandwiches and I would lay it in the sitting room. I was getting tired of having so many people underfoot in my kitchen. There were some nice pale blue two-handled soup cups with saucers and stacks of paper napkins. I’d found a stash of real linen ones in the downstairs cupboard, but as far as I was concerned they could stay there until Jude had managed to find a handy skivvy willing to wash and iron them for her lord and master after use.

A few minutes later Jude followed me in and closed the door, then stood there with his arms folded, looking at me in a frowning, puzzled sort of way. I ignored him, as much as you could ignore something that size glowering at you, while I put the soup on the stove and got out some little oval tins of expensive game pâté I’d discovered in one of the cupboards. The use-by date was the end of December, so they needed eating.

‘I wish you’d sit down and stop looming about,’ I snapped eventually. ‘Cooking isn’t a spectator sport, you know.’

He pulled out the sturdiest of the wheelback chairs and sat on it and it protested, but weakly: I think it knew its place.

‘My mother liked to cook and I loved to watch her,’ he said unexpectedly.

‘I envy you that, because I never knew mine: she died when I was born. Gran told me lots about her, but it’s not the same thing,’ I said, softened by this picture of him as a child, hard though it was to imagine now. ‘Perhaps some of the cookery books on the shelf are hers?’

‘I expect they are, but she was just an amateur, while you, as you told me on the phone, are a highly-paid cook.’

‘Chef.’

‘Whatever.’ He fixed his treacle-dark eyes on me and I noticed for the first time that they had disconcertingly mesmerising flecks of gold in them. .

I wrenched my gaze away with an effort and carried on with what I was doing and he said, ‘Look, Holly, I don’t understand what game you’re playing, though it’s pretty clear you’re up to something; but since we need your help over Christmas, I’ll pay you whatever you want. It seems as if you’re going to be stuck here with us, anyway.’

‘Unless I go and stay in the lodge? But I’m not up to anything and nor did I offer to look after your family for money. I did it because I felt sorry you’d spoilt their Christmas — and also, I really like them.’

‘So, are you saying you were just winding me up when you told me your charges were astronomical and that I couldn’t afford them?’ He scowled blackly at me.

‘My cooking charges are astronomical, but I didn’t actually say I was going to bill you for them at any point, did I? I told Ellen not to.’

‘You let me assume you were!’

‘Only because you annoyed me by assuming I was totally mercenary.’

‘I don’t know what’s the matter with you — I got on fine with Jim and Mo! And surely you can’t be this rude to all your clients?’

‘I only give back as good as I get! In fact, I’m a perfectly calm, competent and reasonable person.’

‘Oh yes, perfectly reasonable: after all, you only implied I’d neglected my elderly relatives and then got me so worried that you wouldn’t look after them properly that I got on the first plane back from America. Then I found you’d filled my house full of people.’

‘I filled your house? Whose family, ghastly ex-fiancée, free-loading brother and refugee actor are they anyway, may I ask?’ I demanded. ‘And did anyone ask me if I wanted to double the number of people I was cooking for? Or offer to help me — apart from Michael, who isn’t part of your family at all!’

We glared at each other. He was looking a bit rough, which was probably equal parts bad temper and jet lag. . or maybe he always looked like that?

‘If your uncle and aunt wouldn’t mind, perhaps it would be best if I removed myself down to the lodge,’ I said after a minute. ‘I’ll leave you detailed instructions for cooking dinner tomorrow and tonight’s is really quite simple. I can show you the menu plans and Tilda will tell you—’

‘Just stop right there!’ he snarled, then wearily rubbed a hand across his tired face and gave a long sigh. ‘Look, Holly, I think perhaps we’ve simply got off on the wrong foot. Couldn’t we put the past behind us and start again? If I apologise in fifteen different positions and not mention money, will you please stay over Christmas and do the cooking?’

There was a slight element of gritted teeth about this apology and proposal and I said suspiciously, ‘What, as general skivvy?’

‘As a house guest who has kindly offered to do the cooking.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ I said, ‘perhaps you are right, and we should let bygones be bygones and start over again. But meanwhile, if your vacuous ex-fiancée demands another egg-white omelette, I might just oblige and then rub her silly face in it.’

He grinned suddenly with genuine amusement and I blinked at the transformation: he looked younger — perhaps not much older than me — and if he wasn’t handsome, he was still interestingly attractive. . if you liked the strong-featured, hard-jawed type, that is.

‘She has elderly parents who’ve spoiled her rotten, but she’s not usually quite this bad.’ He paused and added, ‘Was it my imagination or was she turning the charm on me at breakfast?’

‘Only in a general way, I think,’ I said, considering this. ‘She’s all over Michael like a rash, of course, but then, he’s apparently a well-known actor and she’s met him before, so it isn’t really surprising.’

‘I got the impression he was just soothing her down, because it’s you he seems to be getting on with like a house on fire. In fact, if you’ve been snogging George as well, you seem to have managed to get off with two total strangers in no time at all.’

‘I wasn’t snogging George and I haven’t “got off”, as you put it, with either of them,’ I said with dignity. ‘They’re just both very nice men.’

‘Well, my brother isn’t and he seemed to be eyeing you up a bit, too.’

‘What, saying I was beautiful?’ I laughed. ‘Oh, that’s silly, he was just winding Coco up. I think he’s being a bit cruel to her, because he must have led her on to think they were going to get married, or she wouldn’t have sent off the announcement and told her parents, would she?’

‘You’ve met her now: you tell me.’ He got up, narrowly missing the lamp suspended over the kitchen table. ‘So, do we have an agreement? You’ll stay and do the cooking?’

‘I suppose so,’ I agreed reluctantly. ‘But I’m doing it for Jess, Noël, Tilda and Becca — and for Old Nan and Richard.’

‘Richard?’ He raised a thick dark eyebrow. ‘Another man you’re on first-name terms with already?’

‘Don’t be so daft, you great streak of nowt,’ I said crisply, which had been one of my grandmother’s favourite put-downs to uppity men, and he grinned again and got up, clearly taking my agreement for granted.

But by then I’d realised that flouncing off to the lodge and being a hermit really wasn’t an option anyway, not when there was a Christmas dinner to cook, and people I was fond of who would be disappointed if it wasn’t right.

‘I’ll stay until after Boxing Day, at least, then see what the roads are like. But until then, this is my kitchen and I won’t have any interference with my cooking — is that understood?’