From Fitzroy's Private Diary (Extract 75)

I quickly learned that while staying at White Orchards during the festive period, if it was to be bearable, meant that I should bring my own wine and spirits. Bertram never seemed to be able to afford, or never had the palate to appreciate, decent alcohol. Although he always tended to inhale the brandy that I brought him before New Year’s Eve. I deliberately held back a bottle for the celebrations.

Euphemia has a decent palate, and as Hope grew, being allowed the smallest glass of wine at festivities from the age of eleven, her palate exceeded her father’s. Sadly, she did acquire a taste for champagne, which as any right-thinking person knows, is a peasant’s drink. French peasants once drunk it in pints, much as the hoi polloi do nowadays with ale and beer.

I generally don’t drink while I’m on duty, and as the White Orchards celebrations began as a cover for various meetings backed by the SIS, I felt no obligation to provide beverages for anything other than the private family meals that occurred before and after the working meetings.

In the first instance, Euphemia included me in these family occasions because we needed to plan how the various clandestine meetings would work, and not too much later Hope came along. It was quite the highlight of my time at White Orchards to be in her company. Euphemia was always too busy with Bertram, the household or other arrangements for us to see much of each other. But I confess, being able to see her on Christmas Day was a most pleasant alternative to spending time with my cantankerous father, or my various step siblings and their offspring. I did my very best most years to avoid Bertram’s bloody Duck Shoot. The best that can be said of it was that at least they ate the wretched creatures. More than one guest broke their tooth on buckshot, and I say it served the blighters right.

Anyway, somewhere among all this, I became known as the master punch maker. It’s not a skill I generally boast about, but it’s true that my punches tended to go down well. Below are three of my most favoured efforts.

The General Punch (for all guests, made from Bertram’s kitchens and cellar)

I favour making a sugar syrup the night before, consisting of sugar, water, the juice of lemons, limes and oranges, adding star anise (if available) and a goodly amount of dark rum that has a strong vanilla taste.

Sugar is dissolved in water, roughly 1lb to two pints. Likewise, for every two pints, add the juice of 1 lemon, 1 lime and 2 oranges. Star anise must be used sparingly. Rum, well, as much as you dare. You leave this in the fridge overnight for the flavour to deepen.

The next day, make a good strong pot of black tea, roughly a half pint to every two pints in the base. Add the same again of boiling water. Combine, and if you really must, add some bottles of champagne to taste (or lack therein). If the guests are the kind that find chopped fruits in their drink exotic, add various chopped fruits (not bananas, but really, almost anything else will do). If guests are very sweet toothed, you can add Grenadine to taste.

The After Duck Shoot Toddy (made from presents given to Bertram, and from his kitchens)

Use your host’s best single malt, it serves him right for terrifying and slaughtering innocent creatures. Pour the entire bottle into a large silver punch bowl, add a jar of clear honey, two sliced lemons, fill with hot water and add sugar to taste.

Family Mulled Wine (made from ingredients I provide)

Take two bottles of soft, rich red wine (Nuit St Georges is best), add half a bottle of good ruby port, cinnamon sticks (as many as the other drinkers will let you add), some oranges spiked with cloves, mandarin segments, and sugar to taste. Heat slowly over a medium heat, or in the hearth if possible. If Bertram has any brandy left, I often add a dollop at this point, so it won’t be simmered off. Drink copiously (but don’t give Hope more than a thimbleful or she will start giggling and fall asleep within ten minutes).