“But how will I satisfy all their wishes?”
“I think whatever you cook will make them happy.”
“Can you drive us to Llancaradoc first? I want to go to the butcher and see if I can order a goose and a big ham.”
“You’re going to make all that?” he asks
I won’t tell him, not until I’m sure I can find the ingredients. But secretly I’m planning to make all their wishes come true – at least all their Christmas dinner wishes.
“I may as well try, one turkey was never going to feed all the Squad as well as Kendric House.”
He glances at me as we drive up the hill, his expression amused. He keeps shooting me looks even though the road is unusually busy because of the Christmas market.” It makes me nervous and I have to flick my eyes up from my task list on phone.
“Are you going to watch the road?” I ask finally tucking my phone away. “Otherwise, pull over and tell me whatever it is that has you so amused.”
He turns the car into a farm lane and stops.
“Three days ago,” he turns to me after pulling the handbrake. “You didn’t think you could do this at all. Now you’ve expanded to include the entire household, and if I’m not mistaken, a few of the volunteers.
“What did you imagine, I cook a Christmas dinner but then stand guard at the kitchen door and” – putting on my best Yoda from Star Wars – “Roast turkey you cannot eat. Too young are you.”
Raff laughs then holds both hands cupped in a goodOliver Twistimitation. “Please, sir, I want some more?”
“You always want more?” I tease him.
“Can you blame me?” He leans over and unbuckles my seat belt; then he pulls me out of my seat, over the handbrake and into his lap. It’s a tight bit between him and the steering wheel. Yet, we fit – provided I straddle him and we’re pressed against each other.
When we stop kissing, he says in a very good imitation, “Use the Force, Leonie. The force is strong in you, learn to use it.”
I have to laugh because his face does for a moment look like Alec Guinness.
But I too can play this game. With my best Shakespearean stylings, I say. “Sir, I see thy Obi Wan Kenobi and raise thee Macbeth.Oh what vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself and falls on the other.”
His eyes sparkle. “Not bad. But you named the Scottish Play. Now we shall have bad luck.”
“I don’t believe in bad luck, at least not from saying Macbeth.”
“Stop saying that.” He laughs.
“Don’t tell me you—”
“Not really,” he says quickly. “But it upsets too many people. So, I’ve trained myself not to say the name.”
I wriggle off him and back into my seat. “We will have lots of bad luck if you don’t get up to that market quickly. All the good stuff will be gone and I’ll have to feed people bread and water.”
It’s true. I don’t believe in this old superstition about the Scottish Play. And everything is going very well.
Even better, because all the activity in the house drives away the one person in the house who’s been a problem.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Friday 16th December, Kendric House
When everyone is having lunch, Watson comes in and looks surprised to find everyone there. Of all the partners, he’s the only one who hasn’t caught on that the house functions a little like a family.
The kitchen is the heart of the house, yet he almost never comes here, preferring to use the little kitchen in his apartment. Today, he looks around then, reluctantly walks towards me because I happen to be closest to him.
He hands me an envelope. “I can’t continue in these conditions. There’s dust and noise everywhere. I’ve shared my complaint with Mr Kendric Senior.” He squares his shoulders defiantly.
