When she was happy with the upstairs, she headed to the kitchen. She pulled out Nana’s cookbook and turned the pages reverently. This was the book that Nana always referred to. It was filled with handwritten notes and passed-down recipes, including one that Nana swore blind had been smuggled out of occupied France during theFirst World War. Lottie ran her fingers over her grandmother’s words and felt a tear trickle down her cheek. Nana was gone, and she was finding it hard; the silliest things could set her off. She straightened her shoulders and tried to pull herself together, thumbing through until she found Nana’s trusted tomato soup recipe. It was one she’d made with Nana before, so it wasn’t entirely new to her. And most importantly, Lottie knew it was easy to make.
Today’s menu was soup, spaghetti Bolognese and cheese and biscuits. She was keen to keep it simple, given that everyone would be expecting the works tomorrow. Lottie tried hard not to think too much about it. She wasn’t known for her domesticity and had never cooked on this scale before. She was up for the challenge and she wanted this to be as much like one of Nana’s Christmases as it possibly could be, but that was going to be no mean feat.
She followed the soup recipe and was pleasantly surprised at the results. She put the large saucepan to one side. It would be easy to reheat later.
‘Hello, Lottie?’ came the accented voice of Great Uncle Bernard’s carer. Dayea was a lovely Filipina lady who did far more for the old man than she was paid for. Lottie got the feeling she was quite fond of him.
‘In the kitchen!’ called back Lottie.
‘I brought you lumpia,’ she said, greeting Lottie with a warm hug and a large Tupperware box.
Lumpia sounded to Lottie like something you might catch abroad, but the spring-roll-like objects Dayea was pointing to in the box smelled divine.
‘Thank you, Dayea, that is kind of you.’ Lottie decided she might try a couple soon, as thanks to thefalling-in-the-mud incident she’d skipped breakfast. Her stomach had been rumbling for a while.
They heard the stairlift start up and Dayea dashed off to help Bernard. Lottie finished mopping the kitchen floor and was hanging up the squeegee when she heard the Duchess scrabbling at the back door. She glanced up at the window: it was raining again; the cat would be soaked, as would the washing. Lottie eyed her just-washed floor. She tiptoed across it and opened the back door. In shot the Duchess, and she wasn’t alone – the scruffy little brown dog was hot on her heels.
‘Nooooo!’ yelled Lottie as the cat dived from surface to surface like a Ninja Warrior contestant. The dog skidded on muddy paws, careering around the kitchen like a let-go balloon. She hung on to the door as the wind and rain buffeted it about. If she shut it, the dog had no escape route but, while she kept it open, she was getting soaked. ‘Sod it,’ she said, shutting the door and skidding after the dog. There followed a game of high-speed chase where Lottie shooed the dog from room to room, mentally calculating how much cleaning would be needed, until she finally had the thing cornered back in the kitchen.
She took a moment to get her breath back. ‘Right, now don’t bite me. Okay?’
The dog was panting after all the chasing about, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He watched her with big brown eyes. As Lottie got closer, she could see he was literally covered in mud, apart from a white patch on his neck, which was splattered but not completely coated like the rest of him. ‘Now, listen,’ she said, in what she hoped was a calming voice. ‘I’m going to pick you up. You’re not going to bite me because I’m only going to put you outside. Got it?’ She nodded and the dog tilted its head on oneside. Lottie reached out a hand for the dog to sniff and he began to lick her fingers. She smiled at the gesture. As she went to pick him up, the back door swung open and the howling gale brought in a man in a dark hooded coat.
‘Argh!’ yelled Lottie in fright, terrifying the dog, who clattered past her into the utility room. Lottie stood up straight. ‘You can’t just go letting yourself in,’ she said as forcefully as she could, scanning the room for a makeshift weapon. ‘You can take your filthy mutt and …’
The man pulled off his hood and shook his damp hair. Lottie would have fallen backwards if the kitchen table hadn’t been there for her to slump against. ‘Joe?’ She gasped his name. She could barely believe her eyes. Here was the man she truly thought she would never see again. It was a sucker punch to her stomach.
‘Hiya, Lottie,’ said Joe. ‘Sorry about this morning. Are you okay?’ His voice wasn’t how she remembered it – there was a hint of an accent. But his easy carefree tone was exactly the same, as though he’d last seen her yesterday rather than nine years ago.
Lottie’s mouth opened and closed, but making actual sound was proving difficult. ‘Joe?’ she ventured again.
‘Yeah. It’s me.’ He ran his hands through his hair. ‘How’s Rose?’
Lottie really needed her brain to find a gear it could operate in. She blinked and he was still there, meaning it wasn’t her imagination playing tricks. She took a steadying breath. ‘Nana died three weeks ago.’
‘Oh Lottie, I’m so sorry to hear that.’ She watched him in bewildered awe as he took off his muddy boots. He was back, and she had no idea how to process it. ‘How are you?’ he asked.
It was a fair question, but one that caused her issues.How was she meant to feel when he had rocked up out of thin air? Joe, the boy she’d grown up with; the teenager she’d lost her heart to; the man she’d fallen in love with; the soulmate who had walked away from her without looking back.
But that wasn’t what he was asking about. ‘Um. I’m okay. Been better, you know?’
‘I wondered why the house was up for sale. I’ve got such fond memories of this place.’ He paused and looked around the kitchen. ‘How’s your mum?’ That was the other question people always asked.
‘She’s fine. Upset, obviously, but fine.’
Joe was staring at her. The intensity made her look away. ‘Wow; is that your natural hair colour?’
When Lottie was younger she’d dyed her hair at every opportunity. She’d been sent home from school countless times. She’d not dyed it for years. Not since …
‘Yeah.’ Lottie automatically smoothed her hair down. This was so odd.
‘Looks great.’
‘Thanks.’
They nodded at each other and Joe gave her that shy smile that was etched on her heart. It was like they’d been thrown back in time; here they were, chatting in Nana’s kitchen like they’d always used to do. Lottie pulled out a chair and sat down before her legs gave way. It was a shock to see someone she’d spent the last nine years trying to forget because they had clearly forgotten about her.
Chapter Three
