Lottie was grateful for a realistic view; she could manage her own expectations that way. Far better to be prepared for the worst – and hopefully be pleasantly surprised – than to be shocked, as she had been with Nana. ‘Thanks for being honest, and for everything you did back there. You saved his life.’
‘Anyone would have done the same.’
‘Maybe, but after what he said you’d be forgiven for not wanting to help him.’ She was embarrassed by Great Uncle Bernard’s outburst. The ambulance lights began to flash, followed by the sound of wheels on gravel and in another moment, it was gone.
Joe stared at his feet. ‘He was right though. Wasn’t he? It won’t ever go away. It was always the danger of coming back here. People have long memories.’ He turned to go inside and Lottie caught his arm.
‘Not everyone thinks like Bernard. I know the truth.’
‘Do you?’ asked Joe, a deep crease appearing on his forehead. ‘Are you sure?’
She had been sure until now.
Chapter Twenty-One
Boxing Day
Boxing Day dawned like the sequel to a movie Lottie wanted to forget. She actually groaned as she opened her eyes and the flashbacks of the previous day swamped her consciousness. The Duchess, who was dozing by her feet, opened an eye, gave a cursory glance around and went back to sleep. Lottie wished she could do the same. She checked the clock – it was six o’clock; too early to get up. But not too early to call the hospital and get an update on Great Uncle Bernard.
After being passed around a few wards she was finally talking to the nurse treating Bernard.
‘Are you his next of kin?’ she asked.
‘Erm.’ Lottie knew her mother was officially his next of kin, and then it was Uncle Daniel. Neither of them had shown any major signs of emotional upset yesterday at the sight of the old man being whisked away in an ambulance. Lottie concluded that if ‘next of kin’ meant ‘the person in your family who is closest to you’ then it wasn’t that big a lie. ‘Yes. I think I am.’
‘He’s had a good night and he’s doing as we would expect at this stage.’
Lottie wasn’t sure what that meant. ‘What happens next?’
‘We monitor him until he’s fit enough to come home.’
‘Wow. So he’s going to be okay then?’ A happy tear took her by surprise. She’d been expecting the worst. ‘He doesn’t need any operations or anything?’
‘A coronary artery spasm is usually treated with medication but that’s up to his consultant.’
‘Can we visit?’
‘Yes. Afternoons between two and four and evenings six until eight thirty.’
Suddenly Boxing Day looked a bit brighter.
She was still yawning as she wandered downstairs. The house was silent. There was something comforting about knowing the rest of her family was safe asleep under the one roof; they’d all be leaving tomorrow, and Christmas would never be quite the same again.
Another thought struck her. Nothing would be quite the same now that Joe was back in Henbourne.
Joe. Images of him flashed through her mind, culminating with the one of him tucked up on the sofa last night. Everyone had been a bit subdued and they’d attempted to take their minds off events with a round of board games. Zach and Emily had teamed up to win most of them and thankfully they seemed to have recovered from their earlier upset. After everything that had happened, she’d cracked open the brandy and she, Zach and Joe had chatted into the night. The brandy had helped to relax the tensions between her and Joe – a brief armistice. Seeing Joe save Uncle Bernard’s life had pushed the hurt to the back of her mind. Joe and Zach had drunk a fair bit and she’d ended up helping them both to bed. Zach had suggested the sofa for Joe and offered him a pair of shorts he’d been given as a present.
Lottie wasn’t entirely sure why she felt the need to check on Joe this morning – he was a grown man, and he wasn’t hers to check on any more – but old feelings had left their mark. A quick look to check he was alive was the least she could do. Anyway Dave was in there too, and he’d need a wee by now.
Lottie opened the drawing room door as quietly as the old hinges would allow and slunk inside, looking around furtively for Dave. She didn’t want him making an escape and going after the Duchess, who had slept soundly all night. Which, when Lottie thought about it, was unusual for her – maybe Christmas Day had worn her out too.
She closed the door behind her as quietly as possible. She had only taken two steps before she realised something was very wrong. She spotted Dave on a cushion at the far end of the room. He made a groaning sound and rested his head on his paws. Joe stirred slightly on the sofa. Lottie looked about her. There was a trail all around the room – across the oak flooring, the cream wool rug and the Christmas tree mat. It was a trail of poo, smeared generously across every surface like a faeces racetrack. The smell was a shock to the nostrils. Lottie followed the path of poo with her eyes – no sign of the engagement ring – until at the end of the trail they came to rest on the culprit – Aunt Nicola’s robovac.
Although the original source of the poo was obviously Dave she could hardly blame him for how it had now been liberally distributed. For a little dog he delivered a whole lot of poo. Joe was sleeping with his arm draped over his eyes. The blanket was only half covering him; his chest was bare and covered in a light dusting of hairs. She sneaked a look, tracing them down his body until theydisappeared inside his borrowed shorts. Lottie caught herself with a sharp intake of breath. What was she doing?
Her mutinous heart was begging her for another peek. She tiptoed across to Dave like a cat burglar, being ultra-careful where to place her new slippers, and picked him up. Dave responded with lots of happy kisses and an incredibly waggy tail. She could tell he was relieved at not being told off, poor thing.And I thought 2008 was a Crappy Shitmas, she thought.
She decided to leave Joe sleeping. He had a bellyful of brandy to sleep off and he’d been a hero yesterday, so he deserved a lie in. She planned out her route and daintily made her way through the poo maze back to the door.
