Her mother winced. ‘Fine by me,’ said Scott. ‘I like strong coffee. I have two shots when we go to Starbucks,’ he added, looking completely serious. Lottie refrained from the urge to congratulate him. He seemed nice enough, but she would be reserving judgement as her mother’s men tended to start off okay but then would get rapidly bored with her mother’s high-maintenance ways. Before long they were a mere speck on the horizon.
Lottie checked that Daniel, Nicola and Rhys were joining them and then followed the others downstairs to take up the role of hostess. It was strange without Nana. She had always done all of this. She had been a proper matriarch, and an excellent host, so it was more than daunting that that role should fall to Lottie this Christmas. Lottie wasn’t sure she was up to it – she certainly wouldn’t deliver to Nana’s high standards – but she would do her best, and that was all she could do.
Jessie was already eating a biscuit and nursing a glass of squash when she entered the room. ‘I hope you’ve saved me a chocolate one,’ said Lottie.
‘Oreos?’ asked Scott, appearing behind her. She wouldn’t have put him down as an Oreo person. People’s biscuit choices fascinated Lottie. She doubted that you could tell a lot from it, but it interested her all the same. Personally,she was a big fan of the custard cream but loathed Bourbons. They promised so much – they looked like a chocolate biscuit – but they didn’t taste of chocolate, so they let you down. Joe was a Bourbon biscuit.
She tried to banish thoughts of Joe and Bourbon biscuits from her mind. Zach was watching Scott, and Lottie watched them both. At last Zach spoke. ‘Hi, I’m Zach,’ he said, offering a hand. Scott juggled his biscuit and shook hands with Zach. ‘Do I know you?’ asked Zach, scrutinising Scott’s face.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Scott. ‘Do you drink in the Bricklayer’s Arms in West Norwood?’
‘Er, no, can’t say I’ve ever been to that part of London,’ said Zach.
‘Then I’ve probably got a double.’ Scott gave Zach a manly slap on the shoulder, although Lottie thought she saw a glimmer of anxiety in his eyes as he did so. He went to snuggle up to Angie, which was about as far away from Zach as he could get.
‘You okay?’ Lottie asked Zach quietly.
‘I know him from somewhere. I just can’t place him, and it’s bugging me.’
‘It’ll come to you when you least expect it,’ she said, dunking a shortbread finger quickly in her tea. She watched Dayea fussing over Bernard, adjusting the rug over his knees and ferrying cups of tea and assorted biscuits to his side. She was a sweet lady and very attentive, especially given what she got paid. Even though her English was as good as any native speaker, she wasn’t a chatty sort of person. Lottie often wondered how old she was. Her minimal wrinkles and dyed-black hair made it tricky, but she guessed she was in her early sixties. She caught Lottie staring and gave her a sweet smile before sipping her tea.
‘Who’s coming to the carol service in Henbourne this evening?’ asked Lottie. It was one of their many family traditions. There was a set agenda that a Collins family Christmas ran to, and this was a key Christmas Eve event.
‘No thanks; I’ll babysit for Jessie,’ said Rhys quickly, which was the most he’d said since he’d got there apart from mumbling ‘No WiFi’ a few times.
‘Thanks, mate,’ said Zach.
‘Aw, but I’m big now. Why can’t I come?’ Jessie pouted.
‘Because it finishes late, and if you’re not in bed when Santa comes he won’t—’
‘Okay. I get it,’ said Jessie with a huge grin.
‘Is it far away?’ asked Emily, without making eye contact. Lottie wondered if she had done the pregnancy test yet. Something flashed through her stomach – a physical memory – and she tried to ignore the pain in her own past. This was different; Emily had Zach, assuming she got around to telling him.
‘No, the church is about a fifteen-minute walk. It’s probably the only time they have a full house. Loads of people come from both villages: Dumbleford, which is at the bottom of the hill, and Henbourne on the Hill, which is, well, on the hill,’ explained Lottie.
‘Count me in,’ said Emily, and Zach slipped an arm around her waist. The way he was looking at Emily warmed Lottie’s heart. She hadn’t seen him look at anyone that way since Melissa. Lottie shook her head: the thought of Zach’s wife had made more skeletons rattle around her mind. Zach gave her a look and she froze. All this time, she had never revealed Melissa’s secret, and she wasn’t about to now.
‘I’d like to go,’ said Bernard. ‘Not sure my steed is up to the return journey though.’ He patted the arm of hiswheelchair. Going down the hill was fine, but getting back up stretched the battery to its limit. He had been known to stop the traffic by zigzagging up the middle as the gradient was a little on the steep side. The puzzled looks on the faces of the queuing tourists was always entertaining.
‘I’ll drive you, Uncle Bernie,’ offered Daniel. Nicola gave him daggers which he merely shrugged at.
‘Thanks, Daniel. I missed it last year. I wasn’t too good, health-wise.’
Lottie waited for him to say that this year would be his last Christmas, but he didn’t. She and Zach exchanged bemused looks. There was still plenty of opportunity for him to mention it, and he surely would.
Lottie was cheered to see her family interacting; so far there had been no arguments, which was probably some sort of record. She sat back with a happy sigh and enjoyed the peace while it lasted.
Lottie had left everyone to a game of Ludo and was concentrating hard as she iced the Christmas cake. She had made it straight after the funeral and it had looked great when she’d taken it out of the oven, but shortly afterwards it had developed a big dip in the middle. She’d been pouring brandy over it for a few days and had put a big slice of marzipan in the dent and covered it all in icing in the hope that nobody would notice. As she went to the dining room to retrieve the old cake decorations to distract attention from the cake’s failings, she caught Zach creeping out of the drawing room backwards like a cartoon burglar – all he needed was a stripy top and a bag with SWAG emblazoned on it. He took his time to shut the door carefully.
‘What are you up to?’ she asked, loudly. It had the desired effect; he jumped and held his hand to his chest.
‘Bloody hell! Don’t do that.’
‘You’re up to something. Come on, spill.’
‘What? I’m not doing anything.’ Lottie gave him a well-practised look – it was the one she reserved just for her brother and had perfected when they were kids. ‘Okay.’ He held up his hands. ‘You got me. I was trying to find that little car ornament of Nana’s. I was going to ask if I could have it to remember her by, seeing as you and I weren’t left anything in the will.’
