Christmas at the Farmhouse - Rebecca Boxall Page 0,34

me invitingly. How indulgent would it be to have an afternoon nap? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done that. I quickly took off my slippers, shut the bedroom door, and snuggled under the duvet with a new novel, trying not to worry too much about the phone call from the evening before.

When I woke up, I felt quite disorientated. I stretched, then climbed out of bed and peered out of the window. The sky was a colour somewhere between peach and midnight blue. It was stunning. I heard a clunk as the radiators turned themselves on and knew it must be five o’clock.

I decided, next, to have a bath. I went through to the bathroom and ran the old tub as deep and hot as I could bear, liberally squeezing in bubble bath. I lit a row of candles, then turned off the main light, and lay in the hot, lemon-scented water listening to the comforting sounds of family life going on beneath the bathroom.

I could hear Magnus’s deep voice in the kitchen below and the laughter of our children; Percy having a momentary tantrum before being soothed or bribed; the sound of a chair scraping on the kitchen floor as someone got up from the table; the radio being switched on – the burble of the presenter’s voice, followed by some Christmas tune or other blaring from the machine. There was something really very luxurious about listening to life go on beneath you while you lay in the bath in a state of relaxation.

Eventually, as the water cooled, I let the plug out and hauled myself up. As the water gurgled down the plughole, I wrapped my bathrobe around me then blew out the candles. I went back through to the bedroom, where for the first time in a long while I looked at myself in the long mirror. I scrutinised my body first – the skin pink from the hot bath. Definitely plump now, which I didn’t mind a bit. But perhaps the skin was getting a little loose. Maybe I should at least do a bit more exercise to try to prevent my skin ageing beyond its years.

Then I stood closer to the mirror and inspected my face. It wasn’t too bad, really. The plumpness had done my face a favour, as I wasn’t terribly lined, and my features seemed much the same as always. It was a face that could no longer be described as beautiful, but which looked friendly and content. I was happy enough with that. The hair, though, I had to concede, did not look great. It was in dire need of a cut and there was definitely now more silver than auburn. There was no doubt that the hair was ageing me the most. Oh well, I thought to myself, I’ll just tie it back and try to forget about it.

Dressed, I went downstairs, where lovely smells were oozing out of the kitchen. I bumped into Magnus in the hallway and he took me through to the sitting room, sat me down, and poured me a sherry.

‘Lucas and Astrid are just going to bath the kids and get them into bed, Freja is having a little nap and Heidi’s getting changed. So, for ten minutes or so, it’s just us.’

‘How lovely,’ I said, taking the sherry and helping myself to some peanuts from the bowl beside the sofa. The fire was blazing and all the Christmas lights twinkled cosily.

‘I wanted to give you something, actually,’ Magnus said, clearing his throat. He looked a bit nervous. ‘You know I said I have two surprises for you? Well, I wanted to give you the first one now. Here,’ he said, handing over an envelope.

I smiled as I took it and put down my drink to open it. It was a voucher for somewhere called ‘Elizabeth Grace.’

‘What’s this?’ I asked.

‘I hope you won’t be offended… it’s just that the girls suggested it. It’s a hair stylist’s in St Peter’s. I’ve booked you in to have your hair done tomorrow morning – cut, colour, the works. Freja told me what to book. Do you mind? I hope it’s not offensive to arrange something like this…’

I could have jumped for joy. ‘Oh, Magnus!’ I said, getting up from the sofa and hugging him. ‘It’s perfect! I was just beating myself up about the state of my hair. I’ll look all young and glamorous for Christmas!’

‘You’re beautiful, whatever, you know that. But it’ll be a treat,