I Cannot Think of a Christmas-y Phrase That Allows Any Play on the Title When Two Paths Meet

I shall keep trying to think of a festive tie-in for the title of our final finalist for the 2012 Best Betty Christmas vote, but doubt I’ll get there.  The candidates, for the last time – second-to-last, really, as I’ll list them again when I post the voting link – are:

Damsel in Green (1970)

Caroline's Waterloo  (1980)

A Girl to Love (1982)

When Two Paths Meet  (1988)

The Mistletoe Kiss  (1997)

A Christmas Romance  (1999)

So our final re-cap is for When Two Paths Meet, recently reprised with Betty Debbie’s brilliant review.  The setting is romance as geography: Katherine and Jason court in Salisbury (the only city in Wiltshire, apparently), in and around the cathedral famous for the beauty of its architecture and setting, as captured in the glorious paintings of John Constable – and, more vaguely, on the cover of the original Harlequin edition of this novel.

So we open in October, and in jig time Katherine has her first job, thanks to Jason, living quite close to the cathedral and companioning the elderly Graingers.  She looks forward to deploying her salary in service of amassing a more flattering wardrobe by Christmas.  She sets aside some money to buy presents for her vile brother and his almost-as-vile wife and their two unloving and unlovely children; whether that’s true-spirit-of-Christmas or get-yourself-to-a-shrink-and-deal-with-that-martyr-complex is in the eye of the beholder.

By chapter five, Katherine is a nursing aide at the hospital, and we are drawing closer to the holiday.  Sister is pressing every able-bodied patient into paper-chain construction, and the ward is further bedecked with paper flowers and “coloured crepe-paper mats for the bed tables and locker tops.  They would be the very devil to keep tidy and clean, observed Andy, but Sister, who considered herself artistic, always got carried away at Christmas.”  Needless to say, the visit to Katherine’s family is a complete bust – “She had been stupid to come” – let us draw the veil.

An evening out with Jason’s fun and friendly young cousin, Edward, does Katherine a bit of good, as do the mince pies back at Mrs. Potts’s boarding house, and the promise of turkey on Christmas.  Mildly heartened, Katherine has a bit of a spree on a snowy Christmas Eve, as she’ll be working Christmas and Boxing days.  She buys herself a new wool crepe dress and plain black leather shoes, and after boiled ham with parsley sauce at Mrs. Potts’s, and then heads out to the cathedral for the midnight service.  Exiting that uplifting event, she’s waylaid by the doctor and Edward and a steaming-mad Dodie Veronica, who drag her back to the doctor’s for steaming-hot chocolate and salmon (this does not sound a perfect match to me).  She also gets an invitation to the Fitzroy New Year’s Eve party, which should be a doozy.  Jason drives her home and kisses her cheek.  Happy Christmas indeed!

Christmas day dawns early and chilly, and we’re off to work, where three RTAs in the night will keep us busy.  However, there’s also a bran tub of presents; Katherine draws the last one.  “notelets — so useful, Staff Nurse pointed out kindly, for writing thank-you notes for presents.

“Only Katherine hadn’t had any presents.”  One could weep.

Still, the ward is genuinely festive, “the consultant surgeon, Mr. Bracewaite, arrived with the turkey and, suitably aproned and crowned with a chef’s cap, carved with the same precision he exhibited in the theatre.” (yuk)  There are crackers (the bang-prize kind, not the cheese-and kind), paper hats, and a bottle of plonk (cheap wine), which the nurses drink on duty(!).  Katherine gets to tour the other wards, adding another two glasses of hooch to her count for the afternoon.  The alcohol content does not, fortunately, cause her to drop a patient, but she does bump into Jason in Paediatrics and drop a clanger – calling him by his first name.  Oh, dear.

 So that’s Christmas, but remember, it’s England – so Katherine’s early dismissal by Sister on Boxing Day counts as part of the holiday, especially as she once again gets scooped up by Jason and borne off to his house for tea ‘round the fire, with fruitcake.  The witch Dodie appears, tosses out a few shockingly unkind insults, and then vanishes in a puff, leaving the Fitzroy boys and Katherine to enjoy Dover sole and trifle and poker lessons.  I wish I could make a case for the 27^th being part of Christmas – the snow’s still crisp and white and even – because the three of them hie off to Stourhead, and it’s just the loveliest outing ever.  But I don’t see how I can advance that argument.  So that’s it for Christmas When Two Paths Meet.  (But New Year’s...)



Salisbury Cathedral Christmas card





Elaine Hodgson



It’s beginning to look a lot like A Christmas Romance

Those finalists, again, for TUJD Best Christmas Ever (2012 version) are:
  

Damsel in Green (1970)

Caroline's Waterloo  (1980)

A Girl to Love (1982)

When Two Paths Meet  (1988)

The Mistletoe Kiss  (1997)

A Christmas Romance  (1999)

Let us recall a few highlights of that latest-published volume, in which dietician’s assistant Theodosia Chapman manages to meet senior medical consultant Professor Hugo Bendinck, fall for him, adopt a dog with him, lose him (the doctor, not the dog), and win his undying love forever in a mere 103 pages in my 2001 Mills & Boon “Betty Neels Collector’s Edition.”

The story opens just five weeks before Christmas, when it’s cold and wet and dark outside, but cozy and warm in Theodosia’s London studio flat, with its bright cushions and handsome ginger cat, Gustavus.  Theodosia lives alone but plans to spend the holiday with her remaining family:  two elderly and rather unloving great-aunts in a chilly cottage in Finchingfield.  Much of the book’s four chapters concern various preparations for Christmas, greatly enlivened by the assistance of Hugo, whom Theodosia meets at the hospital where she works as a typist.

There’s also an awfully lot of mention of cold:  cold weather, Great-aunt Mary’s face “held little warmth,” cold cottage, underdone beef, cold supper, “not quite hot” bath water, cold feet (literal), chilly church, cold lunch, shivering one’s way to the bathroom, cold sleet, a brief mention of her parents’ deaths, five years earlier, of ’flu.  I am curling my toes and hunching my shoulders just typing about it.  But Theodosia has ginger hair – a bit of fire – and a ginger cat, and the professor’s car and home are blissfully warm, and Christmas is coming...

So off we go to the hospital ball, in a nipped and tucked dove-grey dress from Oxfam, to dance with the professor and ride luxuriously home in his Bentley.  And then it’s time to dash out to Fortnum & Mason’s to do the aunts’ shopping – but wait, the professor is there again, driving us (luxuriously) to that emporium to hand over the shopping list to the food-department experts and spring for a lunch of (hot) omelette and a glass of wine, and resisting “a wish to kiss the tip of her nose.”

And the following weekend, in the Christmas spirit of loving and giving, Theodosia succors an old lady hit by a car.  The professor, coincidentally and fortuitously driving by, ties off gushing arteries and whatnot whilst our heroine chats with the plucky survivor:

“She went and knelt by the old lady, who was still conscious but very pale.  ‘Bit of bad luck,’ she said in a whisper. ‘I was going to me daughter for Christmas...’  ‘Well, you will be well again by then,’ said Theodosia.  ‘The doctor's here now and you're going to hospital in a few minutes.’  ‘Proper Christmas dinner, we was going ter 'ave.  Turkey and the trimmings—I like a bit of turkey...’  ‘Oh, yes, so do I,’ said Theodosia, her ears stretched for the ambulance.  ‘Cranberry sauce with it...  and a nice bit of stuffing.’  The old lady's voice was very weak.  ‘And plenty of gravy.  Sprouts and pertaters and a good bread sauce.  Plenty of onion with it.’  ‘Your daughter makes her own puddings?’ asked Theodosia, and thought what a strange conversation this was—like a nightmare only she was already awake.”

You’ve got to love that, right?  She’s kneeling on the sidewalk, speckled with elderly blood, queasy at the site of the “awful mess” a speeding car can make of a stranger’s leg, and chatting about pudding recipes.  Perhaps not traditionally Christmassy, and perhaps adopting an unloved mutt out of the dogs’ home (which they do that afternoon) isn’t either, but the spirit is certainly right.

Sadly, by Christmas Eve we’re in a fine muddle, the prof having told Theodosia he plans to marry, and neglecting to mention, from some misplaced modesty or inappropriate sense of the dramatic, the you bit – I plan to marry you.  So of course when she sees him laughing with a lovely woman who kisses his cheek, she doesn’t think, “Must be his sister,” but instead grabs the nearest path lab assistant and pretends they’re dating.  And then off home to the sometimes cozy, sometimes chilly bedsit to pack the great-aunts’ gifts and catch the late train.  Except landlady Mrs. Towzer, “Aving a bit of a party this evening; must get meself poshed up,” drops off a letter from those fickle aunts, dis-inviting Theodosia for Christmas! in preference to an elderly archdeacon and his wife recently returned from South America.  A moment’s despondency for Theodosia, and then:

“...she got up, counted the money in her purse, got her shopping bag from behind the door, assured Gustavus that she would be back presently and left the house.”

She lays out her train-ticket funds on three days’ groceries, plus a discounted turkey leg, a small Christmas pudding and a plastic tree.

“...‘We are going to have a happy Christmas together,’ she told Gustavus.  ‘You'll be glad, anyway, for you'll be warm here, and I've bought you a present and you've bought me one, too.

“...The room looked welcoming and cheerful; the holly and the Christmas cards covered the almost bare walls and the Christmas tree, viewed from a distance, almost looked real. The cat food, wrapped in coloured paper, and the box of chocolates were arranged on each side of it and she had put the apples in a dish on the table. ‘Quite festive,’ said Theodosia to Gustavus, who was washing himself in front of the gas fire. ‘Now I shall have a cup of cocoa and you shall have some milk, and we'll go to bed.’”

But Hugo has been busy disentangling lies and grilling great-aunts, and swoops in to bear his love away to his warm Regency house, rendered less quiet than usual by the arrival of family.  Take it away, Betty:

“‘You are spending Christmas with me at home.’  ‘I'm not. I have no intention of going anywhere.... It is most kind of you,’ began Theodosia, and put a hand on his arm.  This was a mistake, for he took it, turned it over and kissed the palm.  ‘Oh, no,’ said Theodosia in a small voice as he wrapped his great arms round her.  She wriggled, quite uselessly, and he said gently, ‘Keep still, my darling; I'm going to kiss you.’  Which he did at some length and very thoroughly.

“‘I have been wanting to do that for a long time.  I've been in love with you ever since we first met.  I love you and there will be no reason for anything I do unless you are with me.’ 

“He gave her a swift kiss.  ‘Now come along.’  He swept her downstairs and as they reached the hall Mrs. Towzer came to see who it was.  ‘Going out, Miss Chapman?  At this time of night?’ She eyed the professor. ‘You've been here before; you seemed a nice enough gent.’  She stared at him severely.  ‘No ’anky-panky, I ’ope.’  The professor looked down his splendid nose at her. ‘Madam, I am taking my future wife to spend Christmas at my home with my sister and her family... ‘Oh, well, in that case... ’Appy Christmas to you both.’

“‘I promise I will never be stern with you.’  He turned to look to her as he started the car. ‘Or our children.’  She smiled and wanted to cry, too, for a moment.  From happiness, she supposed. ‘What a wonderful day to be in love and be loved.  I'm so happy.’  As they reached his house, the first strokes of midnight sounded from the church close by, followed by other church bells ringing in Christmas Day. ... He closed the door behind him, set Gustavus in his basket on the table and swept Theodosia into his arms. ‘This is what I have wanted to do—to wish you a happy Christmas in my own home—your home, too, my dearest.’  Theodosia, after being kissed in a most satisfactory manner, found her breath.  ‘It’s true, it’s all true?  Dearest Hugo, Happy Christmas.’  She stretched up and kissed him and then kissed him again for good measure.” 

The end.

Christmas - still coming [Damsel in Green]

So the finalists for TUJD Best Christmas Ever (2012 version) are:

Damsel in Green (1970)

Caroline's Waterloo  (1980)

A Girl to Love (1982)

When Two Paths Meet  (1988)

The Mistletoe Kiss  (1997)

A Christmas Romance  (1999)

I think it might be helpful to refresh your memories of the various wonderments each of these slim volumes holds, so I shall, over the next few days, post some summaries.  We begin with the story of Staff Nurse Georgina Rodman and Professor in Anaesthetics Julius van den berg Eyyfert, festively studded with her aunt and his many young cousins.

“'Are you using your own money for this Christmas job, Georgina?’” Karel asks, and indeed she is.  Her parcels enable the young van den berg Eyyferts to create paper chains and other decorations well in advance of the holiday – in fact, they’re almost done by St. Nicholaas Day.  Given the family’s Dutch roots, we get to celebrate that event as well, with “real gifts” supplementing their chocolate letters including watches, a Domiplan F2.8/50 camera, pearl earrings and a Meissen figurine for Georgina; coincidentally, one she’s admired for months in a Saffron Walden shop window.

Drawing closer to Christmas, Georgina takes a day for a London shopping spree that includes “a long-skirted dream of a dress, of a dark green velvet...”  The handmade decorations have been sorted into boxes, ready to be put up on Christmas Eve, and “Mrs. Stephens sent up vast quantities of mince pies each teatime.”  There is wet-haired carol-singing by the fire, piano-moving to enhance same, and “Christmas cards festooning the Balkan frame over Cor's bed,” in preparation.  Cousin Karel takes Georgina to visit Aunt Polly (who always spends Christmas with friends since her niece is unlikely to have the day off from her hospital duties) and brings along “a large square box of his own, which, when Georgina queried it, she was told was none of her business.”  It is a gift from Julius to Aunt, and contains six bottles of the best champagne.

And then there’s Christmas Eve:  Georgina has a chance to remind the Prof that his “bad luck” in having to work that day is “nicely cushioned.”  Once that’s out of the way, we begin decorating, “and  as  everyone  had  their  own  ideas  as  to  what  looked  best  the results  were  unique  and  startling;  only  in  the  hall  and  drawing  room  did Dimphena  and  Georgina  get  their  way.    They  had  put  their  heads  together  days before,  and  now  proceeded  to  fill  the  vases  with  charming  arrangements  of holly  and  Christmas  roses  and  coloured  baubles  and  the  silvered  pine  cones they  had  collected  on  their  walks.  They  twined  holly  and  evergreens  around  the  great  fireplaces,  and  arranged the  elaborate  centrepiece  they  had  all  had  a  hand  in  on  the  dining  table.  There  was  a  small  tree  for  Cor's  room,  which  they  had  put  as  close  to  him  as possible,  so  that  he  could  help  with  its  decoration,  and  while  they  did  that, Karel  and  Franz  blew  up  the  balloons  which  they  insisted  were  an indispensable  part  of  the  decorations.    Karel  hung  them  in  great  colourful bunches  all  over  the  house--he  hung  the  mistletoe  as  well,  and  then  refused to  tell  them  where.”

Georgina marches through the snowy lane to fetch a last few tags and wrapping paper, singing of snow.  Her Christmas wishes come partially true when Julius gives her a warm ride home in the Rolls, interrupted only to exchange gifts with the Leggs at the lodge, and requests, with an avuncular kiss, that she wear her prettiest dress to dinner.  Then there’s that whole mother’s-diamond-ring thing, largely forgotten over smoked salmon, roast goose, chestnuts, cranberry sauce, haricots verts, potatoes noissette and zabagloine – and claret, and champagne.

We have a confab in the Professor’s bedroom(!), a sneaky foray to leave Christmas socks by the younger children’s beds, heady compliments and liqueurs by the fire, much, much too late for someone planning to attend 7:00am service.

I’ll let Betty take it from here:  “It was cold when she left the house the next morning and made her way to the garage.  She was in the Mini and had just switched on the ignition when Julius said out of the darkness, ‘Good morning, Miss Rodman, and a Happy Christmas.  Move over--if we are to risk life and limb on these appalling lanes, I might as well be responsible for the damage.’  She moved over without a word, her heart beating a rapid tattoo which she felt sure he could hear.  It seemed not; he got in beside her and shut the door with the air of a man fitting himself into a too tight coat.  It was a good thing that she was a normal-sized girl; as it was, it would be impossible for them to be any closer.”

“The little church was full, its early morning chill scented with holly and chrysanthemums; Georgina enjoyed the service and said so on the way home. ... It was still very dark, but there were lights at some of the windows of the rambling old house, and the clear frosty sky made the stars seem very close.  Georgina, her head thrown back, stood gazing upwards.  ‘I do like Christmas--it's a wonderful time.’  She felt his hand tighten on her arm.

“‘Full of the Christmas spirit, I hope, Miss Rodman.’  She brought her gaze down from the sky to the level of his face above hers.  ‘You mean loving and giving?’ she asked simply, like a child.  He said slowly, ‘Yes, that's what I mean--loving and giving.’  He loosened his hold on her arm and added matter-of-factly, ‘Look out for the steps, they're slippery.’  The day promised to be a wholly happy one.”

“Her own presents she carried to her own room; they made quite a large pile, for they had all given her something, from Beatrix's lop-sided pincushion to the Professor's silver Valentine mirror, an exquisite trifle which must have cost a pretty penny...  Much later, in bed, she ... reminded herself that it had been one of the best Christmases she had ever known, and went determinedly to sleep.”

Decorating With Betty

It's no secret that Betty Debbie and I let pretty much everything in our lives go to pot when we embarked on our Betty World Tour.  So, it's been really interesting to take my nose out of a book and look around the house for once.  Eek.  It needs refreshing.
One of my current obsessions is design blogs (here's one I follow) and as I was cruising around the inter-web-nets this morning I saw a rug that I didn't just love a little.  But...was it Betty-worthy?

Not this rug but like this rug

On one hand it was referencing a classic element (sort of a wicker caning) but on the other hand, it was clearly contemporary.  So, what do you think?  Would The Great Betty have given this a pass on it's classical merits or would she scorn it as unworthy due to its obviously non-Aubusson origins?

I usually adore the world that The Venerable Neels decorates in my mind's eye: Shabby-cozy for the cottages and Grandly-traditional (but no less cozy) for the castles which is also echoed in a smaller manner for any RDD's pied a'-terre.

My question is: Using two words, what is your decorating style and how does it part ways with La Neels?

Betty and the Real World

Wish With the Candles:

Emma wonders if Damocles's Sword has fallen when she crashes into the Professor's Rolls Royce, her door sticks and the police show up:

The Damocles of the anecdote was an obsequious courtier. Pandering to his king, Damocles exclaimed that, as a great man of power and authority, Dionysius was truly fortunate, as it was "good to be the king." Realizing the folly of this courtier, Dionysius offered to switch places with him for a day, so he could taste first hand that fortune, albeit without the real authority of being king. (That is, Damocles could not start wars, etc.) The King required only that Damocles sit in the king's throne for the entirety of the day. Damocles could think of no other place he would rather be and quickly accepted the King's proposal....(One the day they switched, Damocles) realized there was a huge sword hanging above the throne, and his head, held at the tip only by the single hair of a horse's tail. Damocles immediately stood up and moved away from the throne. The king, standing nearby, quickly reminded Damocles of the contingency that he agreed to remain on the throne for the full day.

On Emma's return from Holland, she is kept awake by a group of older travelers singing Knees Up, Mother Brown--It was also the inspiration for the song "Step in Time" written by the Sherman Brothers for the Walt Disney film Mary Poppins.

Justin's home has a couple of ugly Late Louis Seize--Gouthere vases. (Accent over that first e in Gouthere.) Google Image search failed me utterly which is a pity because The Great Betty has Justin say, 'We are used to them, but people seeing them for the first time are rather taken aback.'


An Apple From Eve:
Our heroine owns a Moorfields rug with a hole in it that our hero suggests she might have patched.

Moorfields (1752–1806, owned by Thomas Moore, 5 extant carpets) (Does this mean that all the others are knock-offs or that the 5 are just from the original factory or that our heroine is walking all over a priceless antique?)

Exeter and Moorfields were both staffed with renegade weavers (!) from the French Savonnerie and, therefore, employ the weaving structure of that factory and Perrot-inspired designs. Neoclassical designer Robert Adam supplied designs for both Moorfields and Axminster carpets based on Roman floor mosaics and coffered ceilings.

I'll be honest. They're just alright for me...

Heaven Around the Corner--Discussion Thread

In Heaven Around the Corner, Louisa's 'Frank' is a self-important, rather short fellow with loads of money, a gorgeous car AND a villa in Spain. No, I will not not start singing Elton John songs. But seriously, if you put 'villa in Spain' on one end of the scale, one wonders how much self-importance one would tolerate on the other side to even things out satisfactorily. [Betty Debbie] I don't think I could handle a "self-important" husband at any price. Not even for a villa in Spain.

Miss Savage sends Louisa to Harrods to get some new uniforms. If that doesn't scream 'been at the whisky bottle' then I don't know what does. Harrods is one of the most famous luxury department stores in the world--holder (according to Neels) of innumerable ball gowns, silken undies and leather handbags. But I hope by now I have gleaned enough Brit culture to know that Marks and Spencer would be a better place.


The flat that the ladies stay in is described as 'well-furnished in the modern Scandinavian style'. Fine enough if it's Dania--sleek squared-off leather couches and flat-fronted consoles. But, of course, there's the other end of the spectrum with IKEA. I wonder if they have a working knowledge of Allen wrenches and the time to assemble a dresser in their idle hours...or gypsy bookcases. I am imagining bare wood floors, without fitted carpets - just a plush throw rug or two. There's a reason for all those thick wool socks.


Eva (cook/housekeeper in Bergen) works from 8am to 7pm each day with 2 hours off in the afternoon. Eh. What a sucky schedule. In the winter it's probably pitch black by 4 and in the summer you're missing all that lovely sunshine. I don't know what they're paying her but the cooking sherry keeps going missing and Miss Savage eats like a bird. It sounds like Eva could use a little visit from a plucky Sally Fields. On the other hand, she does have a six month contract and will get paid whether the Savage clan are in residence or not.

Claudia is described as bone idle (there are many times that I am also bone idle...but you won't find any empties under my mattress). Here's a partial list of physical symptoms of alcoholic dependency:

• Anxiety or jumpiness
• Shakiness or trembling
• Sweating
• Nausea and vomiting
• Insomnia
• Depression
• Irritability
• Fatigue
• Loss of appetite
• Headache

Alright, it's clear that 'bone idle' is a synonym for 'fatigue'. Betty also has her eating next to nothing, being irritable and moody...There's everything but a bright neon sign hanging over her head. Do you suppose they covered alcoholic spotting in nursing school? If not, why not?

When Louisa goes skiing, she is told that they can borrow equipment for free. Betty Debbie and I are separated by enough years so that she did not come from a skiing family and I did. Dad didn't get the equipment for free but, if you are willing to be an unglamorous skier, a few productive trips to Goodwill can seriously mitigate the cost of such an expensive sport. You'll know us when you see us. We're the ones with the creative approach to alpine fashion. There doesn't seem to be much of the après ski culture in the few Western U.S. ski resorts that I have been to...so I think you're good.

Bluebells of Scotland

Into each relationship a little kitsch must fall. In Grasp a Nettle when Oliver presents his mother with the infamous Bluebells of Scotland Dutch-girl lamp you just know he'll be crushed to find that it's made its way to the vicar's jumble sale. Some things a relationship can withstand but the wanton abandonment of cherished possessions is not one of them. They are nothing less than the linchpins of affection.

Meet the van Voorhees linchpins:
"Happy Birthday Alien Head" was purchased at Deseret Industries (a sort of Utah Goodwill) in the late 90s for one dollar--we were robbed, I say. Originally meant to hold "Alien Pops" it comes hollow and with a lid--and even though he is stuffed on a shelf in the walk-in closet among the kids' swim suits and old junk mail, my husband's spirit would die a little if I sent it off into the jumble sale ether. Happy Birthday Alien Head currently holds letters and loose change.

"The Goodwill Map of Destiny" hangs in the ghetto at the top of the stairs. I bought it for $35 at Goodwill nearly eight years ago (and if you tabulate the Goodwill to Real Money conversion rate, you might argue that I really paid something like $200). It was covered in a thick layer of mud so of course I had to have it. My husband's been trying to offload it ever since the day I hung it in our last house but I keep telling him that if it goes, I go. Various of my sisters have attempted to carry it off and I even had an impromptu offer for it when a stranger bought my couches off of Craigslist. Everybody loves The Goodwill Map of Destiny--everybody but Mijneer van Voorhees.

But the kitsch stays and we do too. What in your house rises to the level of armed neutrality?

**Thanks to Betty JoDee for sending along a truly hideous Dutch-girl lamp. (There's an untapped market here.) Question: Does knowing it's an oil lamp make you like it more or less? Bettys in the Northeast have had a terrible winter, you know. Oil light might come in handy...