Miranda’s snapping back. ‘And how often is that? It’s so unprofessional, what the hell happened to client satisfaction and the customer always being right? You should really get that fixed.’
Tarkie’s piping up from under the table. ‘Granny Miranda said agros mot, Granny Miranda said agros mot.’
‘Shhhh …’ One touch on his head from Willow’s super-heated hand and he melts away.
‘Give us a moment, we’ll see what we can do.’
As he follows Bill out Keef’s eyes are popping too, but he pauses in the doorway. ‘Y’all, remember, we smile for life, not just the photos.’ He’s still there, frantically flicking through his brain files to find a better one. ‘Stop thinking about what can go wrong, and start getting excited about what can go right!’ Then he nods and a grin spreads across his face as he tosses back his braids. ‘There are people who would love to have your bad days, Miranda.’
Miranda’s running her fingers through her coppery blonde curls as she takes that lot in. Then she twitches her nose, dips into her pocket and pulls out her tobacco. ‘So much of Bill bollocks, I need a cigarette.’
If she’d pulled out a hand grenade Willow couldn’t have leaped up any faster. ‘Absolutely not, Sailor, Scout and Solomon have lived a totally carbon free life so far, you’re not tarring their lungs up now.’
Fliss sends Willow a bemused stare. ‘How did you manage that when you live so close to the Holloway Road? I heard that’s like a pollution superhighway.’
Willow’s eyes are flashing. ‘We have an air tight home with heat exchangers and filters.’
Fliss is still puzzling. ‘So where do scented candles fit into that? I mean, they have flames and smoke don’t they?’
Miranda’s rolling her eyes as she heads for the French windows. ‘Fine, I’ll be outside, don’t worry, Willow, I’ll blow every last carbon particle out to sea.’
Willow’s shaking her head. ‘So much negativity …’
I’m not up for any more of Willow’s wacky interventions, I’d rather smooth this over myself. ‘I could bring the juniper sprig off my door down if that would help?’
Willow’s eyes are closed, her nostrils are flared and she’s holding her outstretched fingers in front of her face. ‘Give me a few moments, I’ll realign.’
All I can say is, anyone who can rebalance anything with Oscar hammering the hell out of the floorboards and the scrap that erupts between Tiff, Tom and Tansy over their rock-paper-scissors game is a stronger woman than me.
When Willow opens her eyes again she’s just in time for a mad rush into the kitchen. Keef and Bill come shuffling back through, Miranda blows in with a wind gust from the French windows that’s so huge it sets the gingerbread men on the tree spinning. Then Libby comes in, her hands deep in the pockets of her pristine cream ski jacket.
‘Is anyone else feeling cold?’
Tom’s detached from his headphones during the last scuffle with Tansy and he pulls a face. ‘Keep up, Mother, the boiler’s gone out. Everyone’s freezing their arses off in here.’
‘Tom …’ Libby sounds a warning note then blinks at him. ‘So why are you sitting there in your T-shirt? For goodness sake put your coat, hoodie and hat back on.’
Miranda drags in a breath, pulls herself up to her full five feet nothing and turns a searing gaze onto Bill. ‘But the heating is on again now, youarehere to tell us you’ve sorted it?’
‘Errr …’ The length of the pause, we all know what’s coming. Especially me, because at the last moment Bill catches my eye and gives the smallest shake of his head.
Keef jumps in. ‘It’s fine, we’ll call the engineer, they’ll have it mended in no time.’
Miranda’s eyes are wide in horror. ‘But if it needs mending, that means it’sBROKEN?!’
Bill blows out his cheeks and when he speaks his voice is extra low. ‘That’s correct. And you have our word on this, we’ll do our best to get it fixed as quickly as we can.’
He sounds so down and defeated, it takes every bit of my will power to stop myself from racing across the kitchen and throwing my arms round him. Which is atotallystupid reaction that would be completely counter productive and probably cause complete chaos due to the kids erupting and Bill being mortified. It would be way more helpful to do something practical like phone the engineer and tell him to get his butt round here ASAP. Offer a mahoosive bribe or two. Some gin. A free stag party. A Range Rover or something like that. Ambie’s so loaded I’m sure he’s got them coming out of his ears.
And I suppose we’re all silently asking ourselves the same question – when a boiler crashes this close to Christmas, what are the chances of getting it repaired before the New Year? Even with the heat from the Aga the warmth is seeping away from the kitchen. If the heating stops belting out, every other room in the castle will be completely inhospitable within a few hours, if it isn’t already.
Libby narrows her eyes and as she pats down her hair and turns to Bill her voice is calm and measured, but very steely. ‘So, what do you suggest we do next?’
I just know. When she moves this on, it’ll be to insist he finds us suitable alternative accommodation. And I also know Bill’s got no money, that we are his last-ditch attempt to stay afloat. If he has to fund a hotel for twenty people over Christmas, it’ll ruin him.
I’m leaning back in my chair, I know they’re all looking at me, but for once I don’t care. In fact, that’s exactly what I want them to do. I take a deep breath, make myself sound super-upbeat, and fire.
‘Hey, this is Cockle Shell Castle, we’re #TeamChristmas!’ Jeez knows where that came from, but I simply know I have to head Libby off and fast. ‘WhatIsuggest is while you take everyone out for the morning, Libby, we’ll get the fires roaring in the family rooms. And when it’s warm and toasty you can all come back, and everyone can hunker down. We’ll put on our Christmas onesies, roast chestnuts, snuggle under our duvets, eat lashings of delicious home made pizza by the fire and have a mahoosive, record breaking Christmas film-athon.’
