The Magic of Christmas (21 page)

‘Stay to breakfast?’ I invited. ‘Jasper’s getting up — he’s going to the dig.’ Thuds and yapping from above were evidence that Ginny was doing her best to help. The ceiling light swayed gently and small flakes of plaster drifted down, like the grey-white feathers Nick had been brushing off his sleeve when he came out of the small barn the other day …

If Caz hadn’t fitted a padlock to his freezer, I’d have had a quick snoop by now!

‘No, thanks, we must get back. Mrs Gumball always cooks enough for twelve, and think of the waste!’ Juno said, propelling the reluctant Mimi away.

I didn’t think Mimi would be terribly hungry anyway, because when I opened the fridge to get the milk, I discovered that half a bowl of experimental Cinder Cream had been eaten, and it’s surprisingly filling.

‘Come up to the Hall later — around eleven!’ Mimi said, clinging to the doorframe with both hands and smiling at me. ‘Nick’s invited us all to try out some ice cream he’s making — yummy!’

‘He invited me, too?’ I asked doubtfully.

‘Especially,’ Mimi confirmed, still beaming but losing her grip on the gloss paint, and then was borne away until her cracked soprano singing, ‘Hokey pokey, a penny a lump!’ faded into the distance.

‘You’ve just missed Mimi and Juno,’ I told Jasper when he finally came down. Ginny shot past my ankles and scattered the chickens in the yard, but unintentionally, I think. She probably couldn’t see them for all the hair in her eyes.

‘I know, I heard. Mimi sounded happy.’

‘She mostly does. Oh, there’s the phone.’

I should have said, rather, ‘where’s’ the phone, since I couldn’t find it until I traced the long flex from the kitchen into the sitting room. Mimi seemed to have built a nest for it with all the cushions.

By the time I got to it, it had stopped ringing, but the caller had left a message: Ritch, sounding very gin-and-cigarettes gravelly. ‘Lizzy? If you get this, come round and sort Flo out right away, will you? I’m feeling a bit rough this morning and she keeps yapping … I don’t think Dora’s coming until this afternoon … just let yourself in.’

I could hear faint barking, and then Ritch groaned (rather sexily, it has to be said) and put the phone down.

Well, he might at least have let the poor dog out, even if he did have a hangover! It would be nearly an hour until I could get there, since I wanted to drop Jasper off at the dig first, so by that time he would probably have given in and done it himself. And didn’t he have to go to work every day? I know nothing about these things; perhaps they record the shows in batches or something? Or not on Saturdays?

The phone rang again while I was carrying it back into the kitchen, but it was just a man who had spotted the greenhouse last night on Freecycle and asked me for my phone number, wanting to arrange to come and look at it.

‘You’re very popular this morning, Mum,’ Jasper commented. ‘And a bit pink,’ he added, but I ignored that. I’d already let the hens out and fed them, collected the eggs, watered the garden and greenhouse, put a load of washing in the machine, made an especially nice packed lunch for Jasper and cooked bacon and eggs. Who wouldn’t look flushed?

When I cautiously let myself into Vicar’s End, there was no sign of life other than a muffled barking from the kitchen.

Poor Flo had been unable to keep all four legs crossed and left a puddle by the door, about which she seemed to feel apologetic, though it was not her fault, as I told her while I let her out before finding the mop and disinfectant and cleaning it up.

Then I filled her bowl with fresh water and put a few crunchy dog biscuits down to keep her going for a while. I didn’t know what Ritch wanted me to do, but I was quite sure he could afford the Posh Pet-sitter prices, so after that I took Flo for a nice long walk. It had rained in the night, so she wasn’t such a clean, white and glossy creature on our return, though she was a very much happier one.

I
hadn’t even started out clean and glossy, being back to gardening jeans and old T-shirts, Nick’s remarks having rankled slightly.

While I was still rubbing Flo with a tartan towel helpfully inscribed ‘DOG’ that I found hanging in the scullery next to her lead, Ritch wandered into the kitchen, obviously fresh from the shower, in gilt-edged designer stubble and a very short white towelling robe. Clearly he’s a natural blond, because the hair on his legs was golden right up to the hem. He was carrying a glass beaker of straw-coloured liquid, which he set down on the counter.

‘Morning. I could do with a rub down too,’ he said with a wicked if rueful smile. Then, opening the fridge, he bent over and rummaged around. I looked away hastily.

‘Thanks for coming,’ he said, emerging with an opened carton of milk. ‘Don’t know what we were drinking last night — that’s the trouble with cocktails, and after a couple you don’t care any more — but today I feel like hell.’ He picked up the glass beaker again. ‘I’ll just finish this, and then make some coffee: want some?’

‘What is it?’ I asked cautiously.

He grinned. ‘I meant, do you want some coffee! I don’t think you’d want any of this, though I could be wrong — it’s pee.’

He drained the last drops and put the glass in the dishwasher. Did he say
pee
? Eeeugh!

‘Er, no,’ I said, backing away slightly. ‘Did you say you were drinking …?’

‘My own urine? Yeah, every morning — everyone’s doing it. It’s good for you.’

After last night I should think his pee was at least forty per cent proof. ‘I … hadn’t heard about that,’ I said, wondering if he was quite mad. ‘How interesting!’

He gave me a wicked smile, but it wasn’t working any more. ‘It cures anything. That and frequent sex are all a man needs to keep healthy.’

‘Really?’ I felt as if some miraculously attractive bubble had burst and taken all the rainbows with it, but managed with an effort to gather my wits together: ‘I’ve taken Flo for a walk and changed her water, so she’s OK. I’d better go now — I’ve got things to do.’

‘Sure you can’t stay awhile?’ He switched on one of those espresso machines that look as if you need a whole generator and a degree in engineering to make them work.

‘No, really.’ I wasn’t drinking any more coffee out of any of
his
cups, now I knew about his habits.

‘Shall I settle up with you now, or do you want to send me a bill?’

‘Oh, Annie will send you one at the end of the month, if that’s OK? I put it all down on her chart and she does the bookwork. Bye, Flo.’

I bent to fondle her smooth, velvety head and, when I rose to go, Ritch followed close behind me up the hall and reached out a long arm to open the front door, brushing casually against me as he did so.

‘Oh — thanks,’ I said, unnerved by the proximity of all that naked male flesh, and shuffled past into the sunlight just as Annie, towed by four large hounds, was passing the end of the drive. Unable to wave, she began to smile, then caught sight of Ritch lounging in the doorway in his mini-robe. The smile wavered, she went pink and hurried on.

I dashed after her, calling out: ‘Hey, Annie, wait for me!’

She turned reluctantly. ‘
Lizzy!
’

‘That was
not
what it looked like,’ I said severely. ‘Honestly! You should know me better by now! He phoned me this morning and asked me to go and sort Flo out, because he had a hangover.’

Actually, in that bathrobe it was almost a hang
under
, so it’s just as well it was only Annie who spotted us, because she’s probably the only one who would have believed me. I took two of the dog leads.

‘He simply couldn’t be bothered to let Flo out this morning, which is terribly selfish, and has put me right off him.’

‘I should think so, too,’ she said indignantly. ‘The dog must have been desperate!’

‘She’d made a puddle, but as close to the back door as she could, poor thing. But speaking of pee, Annie, you’ll
never
believe what Ritch does with
his
!’

And I was right: she didn’t believe me and insisted he must have been joking, though I’m sure he wasn’t. It’s not a fad likely to catch on in Middlemoss.

‘So, how did you and Gareth get on the other night?’ I asked, changing the subject. ‘You never really said.’

She blushed under her freckles. ‘Fine … he is
so
nice. But he can’t cook, so it was just reheated ready-meals. I told him about the French cookery course we did after we left school and I’m going to get him a slow cooker like mine and show him how to use it.’

‘You should invite him back to dinner at your place, only early enough so he can help you cook it,’ I suggested. Cooking together is, I think, a very intimate thing to do.

‘That’s a good idea. Something simple but nice, like that chicken in white wine thing you do, or a risotto.’

‘And a stodgy pud. Bet he likes those — most men do.’ Even Nick, though he pretends he doesn’t, just to wind me up.

‘Yes, he’d bought a chocolate gateau,’ she agreed, ‘and he ate quite a bit of it. Oh, well, must go and take these dogs back. I’ll put the extra Ritch pet-sitting on the chart for you when I get home … and Lizzy,’ she added anxiously, ‘you aren’t falling for him, are you?’

‘No, though he’s very attractive — or
was
, until I got grossed out by his habits! But even were I looking for another man, one who thinks pee and hot, casual sex will cure anything is obviously operating on a different wavelength from mine.’

‘Gosh, yes!’ she agreed, innocent blue-grey eyes open wide. Ritch is not the only one in Middlemoss operating on a different wavelength from me, but I love her anyway.

‘I’ve served my time in the prison of love, though I might get another dog later, once Jasper’s taken Ginny off to university with him.’

‘Tell me when, and I’ll find you a nice stray,’ she promised, beaming. ‘
Is
Ginny going to university with Jasper?’

‘Yes, he’s persuaded the landlady of a student house to let him keep her with him, but don’t ask me how.’

‘Oh, he can be just as charming as Tom was, when he wants to be,’ she said. ‘Only of course, he is much more solid, reliable and kind.’

The church clock struck eleven, galvanising my memory. ‘Oh, must fly, Annie! I’m supposed to be up at the Hall tasting some ice cream Nick’s made, and Mimi said he invited me especially, so he’ll be cross if I don’t go.’

Thrusting the dog leads back into her hands, I rushed off.

In fact, Nick seemed totally surprised, but not displeased, to see me. He was wearing a blue-striped apron, a smudge of sugar and a streak of raspberry, and looked good enough to eat …
if
you liked that kind of thing, of course.

I looked at Mimi suspiciously and she waved her spoon at me and called gaily, ‘Just in time!’

‘Hello, my dear,’ Unks said. ‘I didn’t know you were coming. This is going to be a treat, isn’t it?’

He, Mimi, Juno, Mrs Gumball and even Caz Naylor, half-concealed by the shadow of the inglenook, were all sitting round the kitchen table, spoons poised.

‘Here, have mine, Lizzy, and I’ll get some more,’ Nick said, and I took the proffered bowl and sat down, looking at it dubiously. The ice cream was sort of grey, like town snow turned to slush, and the blood-red raspberry coulis swirling over it contrasted strangely.

‘It tastes better than it looks,’ Mimi remarked. ‘I love liquorice! Yum!’

She was right. Nick sat down again next to me, long legs brushing mine. ‘What do you think?’

‘It looks horrible in a sophisticated sort of way, but tastes great.’ I turned to see what Caz was making of it, but he’d quietly stolen away, leaving only an empty dish behind, which was tribute enough, I suppose. ‘It’s the opposite of coffee granita, which I always
expect
to be delicious, but never quite comes up to expectations.’

‘Oh? I’ll have to see what I can do about that.’ His eyes gleamed.

‘Nothing I haven’t already tried!’ I snapped.

‘You want to take a bet on that?’

I might have been tempted to rub ice cream into that superior smile, if I hadn’t already eaten it all.

Mrs Gumball was still daintily spooning hers in. ‘What that boy will think of next!’ she said, shaking her head so that all the silvery-grey curls, tied up on top of her head in a skittish whale spout effect, quivered.

‘Great,’ Juno said, laying down her spoon. ‘Mimi, don’t lick the bowl!’

‘Why not, when we’re just family?’ she demanded indignantly.

‘It’s still not polite.’

‘Roly eats roast duck with his fingers and then licks them.’

‘Would you like to go for a drive?’ Juno asked, in an attempted diversion. ‘I think my leg’s up to it now, if we don’t go too far.’

Mimi clapped her hands. ‘Martin Mere to feed the ducks!’

‘Oh good, good,’ Unks said. ‘Bit of fresh air will do you both good.’ He got up. ‘Must go and study the form a bit — got a horse racing on Saturday. Snowy Sunday.’

‘Not in September, surely?’ I said, puzzled.

‘Name of the horse. Snowy Sunday out of Weekend Blizzard.’

Unks has shares in three racehorses, but they usually seem to fall over, or go backwards, or do something that doesn’t involve getting past the post.

‘Cold lunch in the dining room at one,’ Mrs Gumball said, heaving herself to her feet. ‘I’m just off to see to my Joe’s dinner. Mind my kitchen’s clean and tidy again when I get back, Nick Pharamond!’

‘Don’t I always clear up after my cooking?’ he demanded indignantly.

‘I’ll load the dishwasher myself,’ I promised her.

One by one they went, and Nick and I quickly sorted out the kitchen in fairly amicable silence.

‘That’s that,’ I said finally, looking round to see if we’d missed anything. Nick is a very messy cook and it was surprising how many pots and pans he had used just to produce ice cream and sauce. ‘I’ll have to go, I’ve got someone coming to look at the greenhouse and he said around lunchtime.’

‘You have? Someone you know?’

‘No, a stranger who saw the ad on the Freecycle website.’

He frowned. ‘I’d better come and deal with him for you. You should get me to do this sort of thing. Anyone might turn up on your doorstep.’