Leaving Hattie with a mound of potatoes to peel, chatting to Ross, who was making cups of tea for Xanthe and his parents, Izzy left the kitchen carrying the ironing board. No one questioned her and she carried it up to her bedroom before she did a quick redistribution of rooms, moving Fliss and Jason from the dingy room on the third floor, giving them each a separate guest room. After all the hard work she’d put in over the last couple of months, someone should enjoy the beautiful new rooms.
Craving a bit of peace and quiet, with one big job to do before she had to start cooking this evening’s dinner, she slipped back into her bedroom and sat down on the silky bedspread in an autumnal shade of russet. She put her head in her hands. What the heck was she going to do now? The two thousand pounds she’d spent on food and wine would be invoiced to the Carter-Joneses whether they liked it or not. The deposit was non-refundable but there would still be a shortfall on what she and Xanthe spent on getting the place ready and the profit she’d banked on making. The roofing contractor was booked in for the second week of January. How was she going to pay for that? Suddenly it all seemed too much and involuntary tears began to leak their way down her cheeks despite her best attempts to stop them. It was no good. There was too much to think about, too much to do, and her head ached with the effort of trying to work out what she could do to fix it all.
The gentle creak of the door made her look up. Ross stood in the doorway. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m trying to be.’
‘Worrying about money?’
She nodded and he crossed to come and sit on the bed beside her, putting an arm around her shoulder. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do. I was banking on the Carter-Jones clan to save us and spreading the word, recommending us to their rich friends.’
‘There’ll be other guests. You’re all ready to go now.’
‘Providing the roof stays intact.’
‘Look, you can’t do anything about them not coming now. But you can throw the best possible Christmas party and get Xanthe to Instagram the shit out of it. Is your website up and running yet to take bookings?’
‘No.’ Izzy sighed. ‘I got a friend to set me up with a WordPress template and I made a start but I’ve not had time to give it any attention or get to grips with it.’
‘Well, I know someone who can pay for his supper by sorting it out for you. My dad, believe it or not, is a bit of a whiz on a computer. It’ll give him a chance to escape from Mum for a while.’
‘But it’s Christmas.’
‘Yes. You know lots of people get divorced immediately after Christmas because they end up spending too much time together? I suspect that’s how my dad has survived this long; he has a man cave and a dozen interests that keep him out of the house. One of which is computers, so he’ll probably fall on his knees to give thanks to you.
‘And you can get Xanthe and my mum to style the pictures for you and to take them all so that you’ve got a bank of images of happy, smiling people having the time of their lives sitting down in the baronial dining room with the most amazing feast.’
‘You’ve got it all worked out,’ she said, searching her pockets for a tissue.
‘Here.’ He handed over a monogrammed handkerchief.
‘Seriously? It looks like it’s never been used. I don’t know anyone who uses hankies.’
‘You do now. My gran used to put them in my stockings every Christmas. I’ve a stack of them. I always carry one, just in case.’
‘In case of a damsel in distress?’
‘To be honest, it’s the first time it will have been used.’
Izzy blew her nose with a loud and very unladylike trumpet. ‘Thank you. Consider the handkerchief well and truly christened. And thank you, Granny.’ It also reminded her that she needed to make a start on wrapping the stocking gifts. The good news was that they could be redistributed and she’d have enough to give to Fliss, Jason and poor Hattie whose family had abandoned her.
‘I suggest that we celebrate Christmas, give everyone a jolly good time and then, when it’s over, we look at what we can do to raise the cash for the roof. I could give you a loan.’
‘No! No way. I couldn’t do that.’
‘All right, you can talk to the bank. Get a small business loan or something. There are ways and means.’
‘You’re right. I’ve been pinning my hopes on that money so much, thinking it would turn everything around. To lose it when I’ve put so much effort into making this week something special, it’s a real blow.’
‘You’ve still got a house full of people, none of whom are guests now, with the exception of Hattie, who doesn’t strike me as the sort who expects to be waited on. Why not relax, go with it and enjoy yourself?’
‘You’re right. As long as no one else turns up.’
‘Now what can I do to help?’
‘Are you any good with Sellotape and wrapping paper?’
Five minutes later, they were sitting on the floor in her bedroom surrounded by shopping bags and Izzy had set up the ironing board.
