Free God Rob Ye Merry Gentleman by Andrea Frazer Page A

well-known carol. Beauchamp Minor held up his hand to silence them and explained that he was not the master of the house, and should they care to wait a minute, the owner would be summoned.
    â€˜Your ladyship – carol singers, if you’d care to listen.’
    â€˜How delightfully nostalgic,’ she called out, with the inner thought that she would also have to cure him of shouting from the front door, as if they were living in a little semi.
    The light in the portico was on and, as she approached the door, having left Hugo muttering, ‘Wha … whass … whassup?’ and bestirring himself, she spied a group of children holding what she presumed to be carol sheets, a lone adult standing just out of reach of the illumination and, therefore, indiscernible. Two of them also held tea-light lanterns on sticks.
    â€˜How delightfully Dickensian,’ she uttered, clapping her hands, and realised that she was not now alone. All three members of the Beauchamp family had joined her, Enid shuffling like a fairground fat lady, and Hugo bringing up the rear, rubbing his eyes to clear his sight from sleep.
    â€˜Wotcher want, Missus? We’ve got the lot on ’ere,’ piped up one of the smaller children who, despite his size, was evidently the leader of this motley crew.
    â€˜How about “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen?”’ asked Lady Amanda, smiling horribly at him. None of this ‘Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ or ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’ for her, which is why she’d chosen something much more traditional. The size of the house might look like an easy touch, but she’d been caught like that before: one chorus of ‘We Wish You…’ and then off into the night with a fistful of coins.
    â€˜Right you are, missus,’ agreed the little scamp, followed by, ‘Give us the opening note, Sophe,’ and a small girl took a recorder out of her coat and blew a note. At this cue they were off, and sang all the verses, not just the first one.
    This was followed by a short round of applause from their audience of five, and the kid asked, ‘D’yer want anuvver one, missus?’
    â€˜What about “O Little Town of Bethlehem?”’ suggested Enid, as this was one of her favourites.
    â€˜â€œO Little Town” it is. Note, Sophe,’ and they were off again.
    â€˜That was absolutely delightful,’ responded Lady Amanda. She whispered in Beauchamp Senior’s ear, causing him to disappear in the direction of the petty cash box. ‘My manservant has just gone to get you a contribution for your entertainment but, before you go, would you care for some hot chocolate in the kitchens?’
    â€˜That’s very kind of yer, but we’ve got uvver ’ouses to visit,’ declared the leader, and they were just turning to go when a small voice piped up.
    â€˜Missus? Missus, could I use your lavvie before we go?’ The little lad had his hand in the air like a schoolchild begging to be excused. ‘Only, I don’t really want to ’ave to pee in yer bushes.’
    With a genuine smile of sympathy, for she knew well how he felt since she had grown older, she asked Beauchamp Minor to show him the way to the servants’ lavatory, and then they started asking questions.
    â€˜â€™Ow old is this pile?’
    â€˜My dad said you’re a real Lady. Is that true?’
    â€˜What are yer gettin’ fer Christmas?’
    â€˜â€™Ave yer got a Rolls-Royce?’ This was the recorder-blowing Sophe.
    â€˜As a matter of fact, I have, young lady, but it’s a very old one.’
    â€˜Cor, bet it’s werf a fortune.’
    â€˜And this gaff.’
    At that moment, and much to Lady Amanda’s relief, Beauchamp Senior returned and palmed something into his employer’s hand, and she asked the carol singers a question. ‘It’s very early in the month to be doing this. Why