Deadlight Hall (Nell West/Michael Flint #5)(14)
She said they would have to ask a few neighbours to eat Christmas dinner with them, because it was expected. Mr Hurst supposed they would have to ask that Mr Porringer again, but he gave his sister fair warning that if he started his airs and graces like last year, not to mention his suggestive remarks, he, personally, would show Mr Porringer the door. He was nothing but a shopkeeper, said Mr Hurst with a rare display of uncharitable feeling towards his neighbour.
‘A dispenser,’ said Miss Hurst. ‘It’s a chemist’s shop, Simeon. An old family firm.’
‘Lot of nonsense.’
There was a special church service, which they all attended, and the neighbours came to eat the dinner Miss Hurst had cooked, including the vicar and his sister. Mr Porringer came as well. He did not say very much, but he ate a great deal. The guests were still there by teatime, and Leo had been allowed to invite the twins for this part of the day. There were turkey sandwiches, a cream trifle and mince pies. Farmer Hurst was watchful that they did not eat too much and make themselves ill, but Miss Hurst, who had been drinking elderflower wine with the vicar all through dinner, was more indulgent and said they could have as much as they wanted.
After her fourth glass of wine, Miss Hurst told Leo that sin was everywhere and it was necessary to always be on guard against it. There had been sin in their own family, said Miss Hurst in a very solemn voice. Her face was red and her eyes were blurry, and once she slopped some of the elderflower wine on the table, which Leo found deeply embarrassing. After the wine had been mopped up, she began to tell the vicar about her family. There had been someone who had been wild and godless – a black sinner, said Miss Hurst, oh yes he was, they had proof of it, here in this very house. It had been their own great-uncle, or maybe it was great-great, she was not exactly sure.
Mr Porringer, who had a doughy face and small eyes like a watchful pig, said that would be Mr John Hurst would it, ah yes, he thought so, the man had been a byword in the area, there was no other term for it. Folk still remembered John Hurst – why, his own grandfather, that had started the family chemist’s business, used to speak of John Hurst, and in no flattering way, said Mr Porringer, tucking his chins righteously into his stiff Sunday collar.
‘It’s the shame of it that hurts,’ said Miss Hurst. ‘Simeon and I have worked all our lives to atone for the wickedness of that man. For the sins of the fathers visit on the children, even unto the third and fourth generation. That’s so, isn’t it, Vicar?’
The vicar, who appeared to be having some difficulty in focusing on Miss Hurst or, in fact, on anything else, mumbled that it was necessary to be vigilant about sin. He had three attempts to say the word vigilant, and gave it up in favour of watchful.
Miss Hurst said she would not dream of criticizing the Bible or saying this particular text was unfair, but it made you think. After this pronouncement she succumbed to a fit of hiccups, and the vicar’s sister finally helped her up to her bed. Mr Porringer wandered round the house looking at things and once Leo saw him open the sideboard drawer, but he closed it when he realized Leo had seen him. He told Leo he had a nephew about Leo’s age, but Leo did not think this could be right, because nobody at school had an uncle called Porringer. It was not a name you would forget. Sophie said Porringer Pigface was just making an excuse to snoop around. Susannah thought he might really be a burglar, whether he had a nephew or not.
Left to their own devices, Leo and the twins finished up the mince pies and carried plates and cups out to the scullery, which was what Leo had been taught to do at home, and which the Hursts liked him to do here. The twins came out to help so as to avoid Mr Porringer, and then Sophie discovered there was still some elderflower wine in the bottle, so they tried it before going back to the sitting room. Susannah said it was awful, like drinking turpentine, and spat it out in the sink, but Sophie and Leo drank an entire glass each. It did not really taste like turpentine, but it tasted peculiar, and it gave Leo a headache.
It snowed hard all night, and when Leo woke up his room was filled with white light. He still had the headache from yesterday, and by this time it was a very bad headache, but he thought it might be from the white glare of the snow rather than the elderflower wine. It was making him feel quite sick, so he could not eat any breakfast, but Miss Hurst, who appeared to have got over her hiccups and blurred eyes, said that was because he had eaten too much yesterday. It was a pity that everywhere was snowbound, or she would have suggested a good brisk walk in the fresh air, she said. But the road was practically impassable already, and the wireless had said more snow was on the way. Still, Leo could help Mr Hurst to clear the paths, which ought to blow the cobwebs away, and then they would have cold turkey and vegetable soup for lunch.
The snow-clearing did not cure Leo’s headache at all, and by the middle of the afternoon he had started to be very ill indeed. There was a throbbing pain in his head, a red mist kept coming down over his eyes, and sudden uncontrollable sickness sent him running blindly to the privy just outside the scullery to be painfully sick.
He began to think he was inside a nightmare, because everything was starting to seem distorted. Miss Hurst and the farmer stood at his bedside, and their faces seemed to swell then shrink, and their voices came booming down a long tunnel, so that Leo was not sure what they were saying. But there seemed to be some kind of argument going on – something to do with Miss Hurst wanting to ask somebody to come to the farm, to which the farmer was objecting, saying something about God’s will, and snow chains. But in the end Miss Hurst stumped angrily down the stairs and Leo heard the ping of the telephone. He pulled the sheets over his head then, because the bedroom light was hurting his eyes.