‘Take it from me, Christmas is a time for romance, isn’t it Ambrose?’
‘Hmmmm …’ Ambrose manages a slur and a lopsided grin.
‘Ambie, you are such a tease.’ Miranda’s wiggling her eyebrows and tapping the side of her nose with a spare finger. If she can still find her own nose that’s one sobriety test she’s passed. ‘Let’s just say Christmas is the perfect time to take a relationship to the next level.’
This time when she delivers Ambrose one of her significant nudges, he simply slides off his shelf and disappears. I’m counting the seconds, waiting for him to burst back to the surface spluttering. But he doesn’t.
‘Miranda …?’ I mean, how drunk is she? I know she’s careless with men, but Ambrose is breathing in water and she’s examining her nail extensions, completely oblivious. It’s decades since I got my lifesaver badge, but the images of drowning people are flashing through my head. Libby’s Christmas is hanging in the balance as it is, a dripping corpse in the courtyard would finish it off completely. My heart plummets for a second, and then it starts to race – I’m the only non-pissed person here, it’s down to me to pull him out!
I take one look at my beautiful pink sparkly sweater then peel it off. As I throw it down on the flags, and toss my phone down on top, I let out a shout. ‘Okay, I’ve got this Ambrose, I’m coming in to s-a-a-a-a-a-a-ve you!’
There’s no time to climb up the steps and gently ease myself down into the water. In any case, I’m in full Lois Lane mode now. I’m already launching myself in a full frontal dive over the edge and frig what it’s going to do to my messy bob, I only hope my hat stays put. Except what was supposed to be a power packed superwoman swoop ends up as a full belly flop that practically empties the tub. And what looked like just bubbles on the surface turns out to be Ambrose on his way up. As I land on him he lashes out, and we end up in a whole mess of thrashing limbs, slippery skin, curses and flying water.
Then just as we’re almost disentangled there’s a loud ‘woof’. Before we can turn around, Merwyn is jumping off the top of the steps, paws running in mid air. Then he hits the surface sending water splashing upwards in a hundred sparkling arcs under the spotlights.
‘Merwyn!’ His legs are scrambling frantically as he tries to swim, and as I finally stagger to my feet and haul him out of the water, I’m clinging on as he wriggles.
‘What the hell happened there?’ Miranda’s fished Ambrose’s Santa hat out of the water and she’s wringing it out. Putting it back on his dripping head as he eases himself back onto the shelf beside her.
The water’s sluicing off Merwyn as I clasp him to my waist. ‘Ambrose was drowning, I came in to give him CPR, that’s all.’
Miranda’s laughing. ‘However much he’d have enjoyed it, Ambie didn’t need the kiss of life. He just likes to scare the bejesus out of me with how long he can stay under.’
‘Brilliant. I’m glad we cleared that one up.’ And then I hear a low cough by the kitchen doors and my heart goes into free fall. ‘Bill, how lovely to see you.’ As if it wasn’t already awful enough. Seriously, he’d better not start going on about water on the floor.
His lips are twisting. ‘So you decided to try the hot tub after all, Ivy. If you wanted a wet T-shirt competition, you should have said.’
I don’t need to look down to know my top’s transparent, and I’m cursing my choice of bra.
Miranda’s beaming at me. ‘Lovely lingerie, sweetheart, you’ll have to tell me where you bought it.’
‘Very festive colour too.’ Bloody Bill should not be joining in. Plus, if he really knows zilch about Christmas, how come he knows scarlet’s even a thing?
The ground opening up, me falling in doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Bill’s swallowing. ‘Which reminds me, are you two wearing clothes in there?’
Well, he just had to didn’t he? As I back against the other side of the tub I’ve given up cringing about my underwear being on public display and moved on to shuddering about what I might have accidentally grabbed back there in the struggle.
‘Do Santa hats count?’ Miranda’s lips twitch. ‘You’re seriously missing the market, Bill, with your private beach, you should be offering naturist breaks.’
Ambrose is slumped sideways. ‘We’re all guysss together here … those surfiesss of yourssss don’t give a flying f-f-fart …’
Bill’s hands are rising to his hips. ‘I’d rather you didn’t flash your bits around in front of Ivy, that’s all.’
I hoik Merwyn up so he covers my boobs and peer through the waterfall of drips coming off my woolly hat. ‘Leave me out of this, I can look after myself thanks!’ For my money Ambrose is unlikely to run around naked, I doubt he can even stand.
‘Before Ivy gets out, I have a bone to pick with you, Bill.’ Miranda’s voice has risen so much it’s loud enough to be heard in St Aidan. ‘In a sub zero castle with paper thin walls, the least I expect is a four poster. So what are you going to do about our substandard bed?’
I’m working out what would be next up the status ladder – a five poster, or a six poster? – and summoning the energy to ask if we can leave this until tomorrow, or at least until I’m back on dry land. Making a mental note to remind her that drinking lowers your core temperature. Not that she’ll listen.
From Bill’s shrug he doesn’t really care. ‘They’re Hypnos mattresses, we’ve never had complaints before.’
With an empty gin bottle and Miranda’s tenacity, I’m stepping in to smooth this over. ‘It’s more that it hasn’t got enough posts.’
‘That’s really not my problem.’ He might be cursing under his breath, but this is only the beginning.
Miranda’s not letting go. ‘But we need to discuss alternatives.’
