Maid Of Honour

When Tilly found herself cooking Christmas dinner alone, help came from an unexpected source...

TILLY raced across the fields. It was a faster route than going by the road.

Mud splashed on her dress, but she hoped her apron would cover the worst of the spatters.

It was still dark and nowhere near dawn. Only a pearly moonlight enabled her to see the way.

But she was late.

She pulled her shawl more tightly around her.

Arriving after five-thirty on Christmas Day - Mrs Cresswell would not be happy.

When Tilly tumbled into the kitchen at Millbrook

Hall, Mrs Cresswell, the presiding presence, was not there.

The kitchen was cold.

Tilly filled the wood box and got the oven going at a good high temperature.

She lit the fire in the dining-room, added some coal, and began preparing the family's breakfast.

When the tall clock in the hallway chimed seven, Tilly had a feeling of unease.

Where was Mrs Cresswell? The cook's quarters were sacrosanct and Tilly would never dare to disturb her.

She took the tea and coffee pots through to the sideboard servery in the dining-room.

She checked that butter and marmalade were on the table, then she placed bacon and scrambled eggs under silver covers on the bain-maries.

Leave the toast until last, Mrs Cresswell always said.

By now, Tilly was frantic.

There was still no sign of Mrs Cresswell, and the entire Christmas dinner had to be prepared and cooked.

She couldn't disappoint the family, who would be anticipating their traditional Christmas spread, with all the indulgences they looked forward to each year, served in the style to which they were accustomed.

Surely Mrs Cresswell would come bustling through the door at any moment, issuing orders as if nothing had happened.

It was one thing to work under guidance, but quite another to prepare an entire Christmas dinner for 12 people on her own.

The clock struck the half hour: seven-thirty. Things were not looking good.