Philip and Gloria Shepherd were going away for Christmas, leaving their house containing a large dog, three pet rats and a lot of glossy potted palms to the care of Thea Osborne, house-sitter.
‘But, Mum, youcan’t,’ protested Jessica, her daughter, when she heard about it. ‘You can’t spend the whole of Christmas in a strange house by yourself.’
Thea’s first reaction had been the same. ‘It does seem rather awful,’ she agreed. ‘But when I thought about it, I decided it would be quite nice in some ways. I can go to the local carol service, and maybe there’ll be some sort of happening at the pub. There’s a very characterful pub on top of a hill at the end of the street.’
‘What aboutme? Where am I supposed to go?’
‘You could probably come and join me in Stanton,’ Thea offered doubtfully. She had not asked the Shepherds whether a second person would be acceptable. It had been hard enough to convince them to allow her spaniel to spend ten days in their house. ‘Except—’
‘What?’
‘They’ve got rats. Nice friendly pet ones.’ Jessica’s rat phobia was legendary in the family, thanks to an unforgettable incident when she was seven and had come face to face with a dying one on the front lawn.
‘That clinches it,’ she said decisively. ‘I’ll go to Auntie Jocelyn’s. She’ll take me in.’
Thea felt a pang of envy and remorse. Her younger sister had five children, making Christmas at their house a wild orgy of traditional celebrations. The Osbornes had never managed anything approaching such wholehearted zest. Jocelyn made scores of mince pies, filled five stockings with magical goodies and cooked a vast turkey with all the trimmings. Even when Carl had been alive and Jessica an enchanting six-year-old it had all been slightly flat. Carl had deplored the materialism and Thea had never been much of a cook.
‘I’m sure she will. You’ll have a
