‘You’ve madedinner?’ We’ve been so engrossed in our reading, that I hadn’t realised the extended crashing around the work surfaces had that kind of significance. I’m slightly ‘waaaahhhhh’ that I’ve been bumped into anything quite so cosy as dinner with Rory. Then Teddie chucks up all over my leg and reminds me there’s no grounds for worryat all.
‘Marinated herb chicken, halloumi and veggies on skewers, with a tossed green salad and baked potatoes.’ Rory seems to be delightfully unaware of how incongruous his teensy Home Brew CottageThis Kitchen is for Dancingapron looks on a guy who has to be six two and built.
‘Sounds delish.’ I’ve mopped up my leg and for the first time this afternoon, my mouth’s watering for the right reason.
Gracie looks across at the open-plan island where he’s working. ‘Story, Rory?’
I can’t resist a grin. ‘Hey, Roaring One, it’s not just “Luc the puke”. You’ve got a rhyming name too.’ Not that I would usually have brought Luc up, but this was too good to miss.
Rory laughs as he pulls out the high chair and throws a handful of cutlery onto the pine table. ‘Gory Rory will be Story Rory later. After dinner and before bed. Aren’t stories meant to put everyone to sleep?’
Gracie pipes up. ‘Not Gory Rory, it’s Rory Waves.’
I’m busy smiling at that when it hits me. This is Rory’s way of not doing this in front of me. Not that he’s the kind of guy who’s ever been bothered by an audience. But I understand if he wants to read to the kids by himself. So we wolf our mains – and yes, of course he cooks like a demon. If there was ever a day when Rory exposed himself as a keeper for someone, it had to be this one. And Poppy’s completely right, as usual. Rory, old and alone, and living above his barrels is a complete waste of the most fantastic guy. Let’s face it, how many guys ever take you to see a reindeer,orproduce a herb marinade? Pulling off both feats within six hours is nothing short of extraordinary. So when we’ve licked the very last of the Häagen Dazs off our pudding spoons, I jump in with my tactful suggestion.
‘Right, I’ll clear up, so you three can disappear to bed with your books.’
Rory’s wail is at least as loud as Gracie’s. ‘But we want you to listen and join in too, Berry. We’ll do it in here.’ He wedges Teddie in the same place on the sofa, flops down next to him and grabs a book. ‘Okay, Gracie, which one shall we start with?’
I collect the plates as quietly as I can and hurry around the island. I’m about to open the dishwasher and start popping things in, when something catches my eye. Gracie’s up on the sofa. But instead of taking up her usual position, with a good two cushions of clear water between her and Rory, she’s moving towards him. I know it sounds like a cliché, but I’m standing, open mouthed, as I watch. Because she still hasn’t stopped. And rather than sneaking in beside him, she’s carrying on. I can see Rory holding his breath as she clambers across his legs, ducks under his arm, then settles herself down sideways on his knee. As her shoulder comes to rest against his chest, Rory’s face slides into the biggest smile ever. He’s biting his lip and as I watch him swallow, there are goosebumps on the back of my neck.
‘Okay, are you going to choose a book …’
‘I think …’ Gracie fumbles with the pile. ‘This one …The Holly Postman…’
So much for being a photographer. One of the most simple, yet beautiful moments I’ve witnessed in my life. All the thousands of pounds worth of camera equipment I’ve got back at the flat. And I’m bobbing down, pretending to pick a mushroom up off the floor, waggling my phone. But when I look at it later I know this one of Rory’s best moments yet is too private and precious for my own public collection. This one’s going to have to go in the velvet book in the back pocket of my make-up bag. With the picture of Freya and me, helpless with laughter, that was taken the month before she got ill.
Chapter 30
Sunday 17th December
In Home Brew Cottage at Daisy Hill Farm: Postcodes and dropping stomachs
‘Okay, Holly Postman …’
‘Rory …’ It’s a warning shot across his proverbial bows. He might have leaped up from his lowest base, what with his reindeer and his cooking, but one wrong move and he’ll be back down to the bottom faster than you can say ‘abseil’.
‘What?’ His voice is high with mock indignation. ‘If you don’t want new nicknames you should be more careful which books you choose.’
I grit my teeth, because his low laugh has sent a shiver down my spine. ‘This is me, testing out my assertiveness.’
‘Great. Well done on that one. Butt-kick noted and applauded, five stars on Trip Advisor. But really, Holly Postman’s too funny not to use it. So Holly Postman …’
I give in. ‘What?’
He clears his throat. ‘Immie popped in while you were in the bedroom settling Gracie down.’
That doesn’t really describe the raucous half hour we just had, although it did end up with her and Teddie sparked out. ‘Sorry, I didn’t hear her come in.’
‘She’s really embracing the relaxation thing. She was on her way back from Serene Swimming by Candlelight, but she came to say she and Chas will run you back to town around nine. So you might as well sit down.’ His lips are twisting as he nods to the sofa beside him. ‘We heardyou,even if you didn’t hear us.’
Quite apart from getting stuck here for longer than I’d intended, as I perch on the edge of the sofa next to him I’m wilting inside. ‘Let it go?’ Once we started singing, it was hard to give a damn.
His beam breaks out into a laugh. ‘It wasn’t like you were singing anything else.’ Then without even teasing me, he’s suddenly serious again. ‘So where had you and Little Richard got to on the kid question? You never actually said. Did someone mention a pregnancy scare?’
It might have come out of nowhere, but I can tell he’s not going to back down. Sometimes it’s easiest to tell him what he wants to know, and move on. ‘We hadn’t actually discussed it. But I’m pretty sure kids didn’t feature in his future life plans.’ The only time he ever mentioned kids was when he was midway into his rather long proposal speech. Before he got to the point where I scuttled across the room and bolted out of the back door and down the long drive out onto the road, his mum had squealed something about grandchildren. But Luc had closed her down with one of those glares of his, then said a family was not on his agenda. ‘Why are you asking that now?’ At the time I didn’t mind, because I’d never seen many kids. Whereas after two weeks of dealing with Gracie and Teddie, I’m starting to feel very differently.
He shrugs. ‘If he’s on his way back, it’s good to keep it real.’ His expression is perplexed. ‘Not talking to each other’s bad enough, but he was denying you kids too?’
