‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ Scott asked Angie. Lottie leaned back slightly so she was at a good angle if Angie opened the card.
‘It’s just a Christmas card,’ said Angie, but Lottie could tell she was wary of what message might be inside.
Uncle Bernard opened his card and Dayea read it over his shoulder, which Lottie thought was a little impolite.
‘Lottie, have we got any more of that fizzy stuff?’ asked Uncle Bernard.
Lottie wanted to hang on to what they had left for Christmas dinner, so she was trying to form a response when her mother answered for her. ‘I’ve seen four bottles in the utility, Bernie. Shall I get them?’
Bum, thought Lottie. ‘They were actually for tomorrow.’ Lottie didn’t want to be a killjoy, but she liked a glass of fizz with her Christmas dinner. ‘There’s plenty of wine.’
‘But we need fizz for a toast,’ said Bernie, focusing on Angie, who was already on her feet. She duly returned with the bottles on a tray and a hotchpotch of glasses, as most of the appropriate ones were already in the ancient dishwasher. Lottie sent up a silent prayer to the god of domestic appliances every time she set the thing off.
Scott popped the cork on the first bottle and Lottie tried hard not to sulk whilst glasses were filled and passed round.
Bernard cleared his throat. ‘It’s a blessing to have all of you here this Christmas, and these cards from Rose show that she would have whole-heartedly agreed with me on that. She also offers a reminder that life can throw youunexpected curveballs; some good, and some bad. She’s advised me to enjoy my old age and to squeeze every drop of joy out of it that I can. So I’d like to offer two toasts. Firstly, merry Christmas, Rose, wherever you are.’ He held up his glass.
‘Merry Christmas, Rose,’ everyone chorused, and sipped their drinks in unison.
‘And secondly, whilst we’re together, there’s something I wanted to tell you all,’ said Bernard, and the family exchanged concerned glances. ‘I’m conscious of the fact that I’m not a well man …’
‘Here we go,’ whispered Zach to Lottie. ‘This’ll be my last Christmas,’ he said, mimicking Uncle Bernie’s voice, and Lottie dug him in the ribs to shut him up.
‘… so I’ve been thinking seriously about my future,’ continued Bernard. ‘And I want to take matters into my own hands—’
‘Not, not,’ began Daniel, clicking his fingers as if trying to summon the word, ‘that place in Switzerland.’
‘Dignitas?!’ said Lottie, her fingertips rushing to her lips with the shock of what this meant.
‘That’s it,’ said Daniel, giving Lottie a congratulatory nod.
‘No, you can’t, Uncle Bernie.’ Lottie was shaking her head and Zach put an arm around her shoulders to comfort her.
‘Well I, for one, think it’s very sensible,’ said Aunt Nicola. Daniel shot her a look. ‘What? If it’s what he wants.’
Bernard cleared his throat again, but it was more of a half-chuckle. ‘You lot do jump to some funny conclusions. I know I’m not in the best of health, but I’m not at death’s door either. Lottie, love, cheer up.’ He smiled at her. ‘I’d like to announce …’ He looked furtively at Dayea, reachedout, took her hand and drew her closer to his chair. ‘I’ve asked Dayea to be my wife and she said yes!’
It was as if someone had pressed a pause button: the whole room froze, with the exception of Scott, who popped the cork on the remaining bottle of fizz, sending the cork flying into the Christmas tree and scoring a direct hit on the Duchess who was still hiding there. With a screech of a meow she fell out of the tree and shredded a few presents in her haste to get away.
‘Congratulations!’ cheered Scott, and a mumbled echo ran around the roomful of stunned relatives.
Lottie downed her fizz in one go, fervently hoping tomorrow would be a less eventful day.
Chapter Eleven
It had been an odd evening: partly a normal Christmas Eve and partly an engagement party for Great Uncle Bernard and Dayea. Lottie had to admit that they seemed very happy – neither of them had stopped smiling since the announcement, which was lovely to see – but the looks that had been exchanged between the other family members conveyed their concerns. Dayea had been his carer for a while, but their burgeoning relationship had gone under everyone’s radar.
As the old clock nudged midnight, Lottie was handwashing the glasses. She was startled when her mother dashed into the kitchen. ‘Did you know about Bernard?’ she asked, her words tumbling out extra fast.
‘No,’ said Lottie, over her shoulder. ‘And even if I did, it’s not exactly any of our business.’
Her mother leaned back against the worktop and watched Lottie. ‘It is our business if that woman thinks she can wheedle money out of Uncle Bernie or out of this house.’
‘Ah, that’s what’s got you worried. You think she’s after the inheritance?’ Lottie shook her head. Her mother was so predictable; not really concerned for her elderly uncle,merely worried that she might, in some way, lose out financially.
‘Not at all. You read about this sort of thing in the papers.’
‘Do you?’ Lottie doubted that you did.
