Christmas Gift: A Family

‘But you’ll be all on your own. At Christmas.’

Jo could tell where this was heading, but it would look a bit weird if she suddenly leapt to Hugh’s rescue by insisting that he would be fine at the pub.

‘And you’re so far from home,’ her mother said. ‘No, Mr Strickland, I won’t hear of it. You must join us tomorrow. I know we’re not flash, but at least there’s a crowd of us. You won’t feel lonely here and we’re going to have plenty of food. I hate to think of anyone being alone at Christmas.’

Hugh’s expression was circumspect—a polite mask—and Jo waited for him to excuse himself with his characteristic, well-mannered graciousness.

But to her amazement, he said, ‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs Berry. Thank you, I’d love to come.’

Hugh arrived punctually at noon the next day, bearing two beautifully chilled bottles of champagne.

Jo’s dad, who drank beer, eyed them dubiously, but her mum was effusive.

‘Nothing like a glass of bubbles to make the day special,’ she said, beaming at him. ‘But don’t let me have any till I’ve got all the food on the table or I’ll forget to serve something. Nick,’ she called to her eldest son, ‘can you find a bucket and fill it with ice? We don’t want to let these bottles warm up and there’s not a speck of room in the fridge.’

Jo had given herself several stern lectures while getting ready that morning. She’d chosen a cool summery dress of fine white cotton edged with dainty lace, and she’d applied her make-up with excruciating care. But, in spite of her efforts to look her best, she was determined to stay calm and unaffected by Hugh’s visit.

She was so busy helping her mother to get all the food out of the kitchen and on to the table that she had to leave Hugh to the tender mercies of her father and brothers, but she heard snatches of their conversation as she went back and forth.

‘Hugh Strickland,’ said her dad. ‘Your name rings a bell. Should I have heard of you?’

‘I shouldn’t think so.’

‘What line of work are you in?’

‘I’m in business—er—transport.’

‘In the UK?’

‘That’s right.’

Her dad mumbled knowingly. ‘I almost got a job in transport once—driving buses—but I wasn’t fit for it. My chest was crushed, you see. Mining accident. Lungs punctured, so they pensioned me off.’

Hugh made sympathetic noises.

Jo chewed her lip and wondered if she should try to butt in and change the conversation. Her dad tended to carry on a bit.

But if Hugh was bored, he showed no sign. He was fitting in like a local. Clutching his beer in its inelegant Styrofoam cooler, he relaxed in a squatter’s chair and looked surprisingly comfortable.

The family always gathered for Christmas lunch on a screened-in veranda shaded by an ancient mango tree. This was the cool side of the house, but Jo wondered if an Englishman would realise that. It was still very hot, even in the shade.

‘Now, Hugh,’ said Mum after everyone had found a place to sit and the family had been through the ritual of pulling crackers and donning unbecoming paper hats. ‘You’ll see we don’t have a hot dinner.’

‘That’s perfectly understandable.’ Hugh smiled bravely from beneath a pink and purple crêpe paper crown, which should have made him look foolish but somehow managed to look perfectly fine.

Her mum waved a full glass of champagne towards the table. ‘There’s four different kinds of salad and there’s sliced leg ham, cold roast pork and our pièce de résistance is the platter of prawns and bugs.’

‘Bugs?’ Hugh looked a tad worried.

‘Moreton Bay bugs,’ Jo hastened to explain, pointing to the platter in the table’s centre. ‘They’re a type of crayfish. If you like seafood, you’ll love these.’

Hugh did like them. Very much. In fact he loved everything on the table and ate as much seafood and salad as her brothers, which was saying something. And then he found room to sample the mince pies.

And, not surprisingly, he was an expert dinner party guest, an interesting conversationalist, who also encouraged Nick and Brad to regale them all with hilarious accounts of the antics of the ringers on the cattle stations where they worked. And he enjoyed listening while the younger children chimed in with their stories too.

Knowing how tense Hugh had been yesterday, Jo was surprised by how relaxed he seemed now. No doubt he was charming her family to ensure her commitment to helping him.

She decided to relax. She’d been working hard all year in the city and had put in long hours in the shop during the past week and now she decided to let go a little and to enjoy the fine icy champagne. How in heaven’s name had Hugh unearthed such lovely French champagne in the Bindi Creek pub?

Everyone raved about Jo’s Christmas pudding of brandy-flavoured ice cream filled with dried fruit, nuts and cherries and afterwards her mum announced that she was going to have a little lie down. And everyone agreed that was exactly what she deserved.

‘Jo, you take Hugh out on to the back veranda for coffee,’ she suggested, ‘while this mob gets cracking in the kitchen.’

With coffee cups in hand, Jo and Hugh retired to the veranda. They leant against the railing, looking out over the tops of straggly plumbago bushes to the sunburnt back paddock and it was good to stand and stretch for a while; Jo felt she had eaten and drunk too much.

The air was warm and slightly sticky and it hung about them like a silent and invisible veil. Jo would have liked to run down to the creek, to shed her clothes and take a dip in the cool green water. She’d done it often before, in private, but she found herself wondering what it would be like to skinny-dip with Hugh. The very thought sent her heartbeats haywire.

They didn’t speak at first and she felt a bit self-conscious to be alone with him again after sharing him with her noisy family. The slanting rays of the afternoon sun lit up the dark hair above his right ear, lending it a gilded sheen and highlighting his cheekbone and one side of his rather aristocratic nose.

Eventually he said, ‘Your family are fascinating, aren’t they?’

‘Do you really think so? It must be rather overpowering to meet them all in one fell swoop.’

He smiled as he shook his head. ‘I think you’re very lucky to have grown up with such a happy brood. They’re so relaxed.’

She shrugged. ‘They have their moments. Christmas is always fun.’

‘I’m impressed that they’ll take in a stranger, knowing next to nothing about him.’

Too true, she thought. Hugh had shared rather personal details about Ivy in his bid to enlist her help, but she knew next to nothing about the rest of his life.

‘You don’t come from a big family?’ she asked.

‘Not in terms of brothers and sisters. I’m an only child. I guess that’s why I’m always fascinated by big families.’

‘Sometimes I envy only children. It would be nice, now and then, to have that kind of privacy. Then again, I spend most of my time these days working in the city.’

His right eyebrow lifted, forming a question mark, but, unlike her, he didn’t give voice to his curiosity, so there was an awkward moment where they were both aware that the rhythm of their conversation had tripped.

Hugh stood staring into the distance.

‘Are you thinking about Ivy?’ Jo asked.

At first he seemed a little startled by her question, but then he smiled. ‘How did you guess?’

‘Feminine intuition.’ She drained her coffee cup. ‘Seriously, it must have come as a shock to have a five-year-old dropped into your life.’

‘It was a shock all right.’ Taking a final sip of coffee, he set his empty cup and saucer on a nearby table and, with his usual gentlemanly manners, he took Jo’s cup and set it there too.