She hung up with a sigh, gave me a look and went to the fridge. She came back with a small ramekin dish full of something chocolaty and a teaspoon. This was going to be really bad. Nick stopped wiping and leaned back against the edge of the sink, watching.
‘Okay.’ I took the spoon, dipped it in what turned out to be mousse and lifted it to my mouth. ‘Lay it on me. What’s gone wrong now?’
‘The butcher says he can’t deliver. His van can’t get traction up the hill.’
I put the spoon in my mouth and let the gorgeous, creamy cocoa sooth away the impact of her news. Neeta was a genius. Although if I received every piece of bad news this way, I would be the size of an elephant by the time my mum got home. ‘Is he still parked down there now, or did he leave?’
‘He left.’
‘Will he come back?’
‘He says he will if we clear the road.’
I licked the spoon again to make sure it was completely clean and tapped it against my closed mouth. ‘Is there some reason he can’t walk the stuff up to us? I mean, it’s one hill, not the whole way across town.’
‘Yeah, but we’re talking about a massive side of beef, a leg of lamb, two gammon joints, bacon, sausages—’
‘Jesus – we need to get more vegans staying in this hotel.’ I took another spoonful of mousse and caught Neeta and Nick exchanging a look. It was clearly a worried look. ‘And this carnivore-fest is vital to tomorrow’s dinner, yes?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘And I guess if the butcher can’t get up the sodding hill, Domino’s are going to have trouble too.’
They exchanged another look.
‘Well, I guess we just go and collect it in Lydia’s car. She’s said she’s happy for us to use it, but we’ve got to get it back to her this afternoon.’
‘Oh, that’s good,’ Nick said. ‘Because Stephen’s already gone.’
‘Say again?’
Nick straightened and ran his hand through his hair, grimacing at me. It was a good job we weren’t going to get into a relationship because if he constantly pulled that little-boy-caught-up-to-something look on me, I’d end up letting him get away with everything. The danger in getting hurt was not from the men you didn’t trust, it was from the ones you did.
‘Stephen came down. I told him what was happening. He offered to go. I’m sorry. I said he should wait until he heard it was okay, but he seemed eager to get out.’ Nick’s gaze flicked to Neeta and she was busy examining her nails, which meant she must’ve witnessed the exchange.
I sighed and took an even bigger mouthful of pudding. The dish was nearly empty.
What were my options here? Call back Stephen so he could collect all the meat on his way back up to the hotel…but that would mean abandoning the hunt for the turkey, and every hour that went by no doubt left the supermarket aisles emptier and emptier. I could delay the butcher’s delivery until Stephen came back, but that also delayed Neeta making a start on all the extra cooking she’d offered to do, to help me out with the dinner tomorrow…
No. Better to deal with the butcher’s delivery myself. If Stephen arrived back early that would be a bonus. ‘I’ll have to go down the hill to meet them then.’
‘How are you going to get the food back up here? You can’t carry it all by yourself,’ Neeta protested.
‘I can help,’ Nick offered, moving to stand beside me.
‘I’m gonna get that tattooed to your forehead if you’re not careful.’ I offered him a spoonful of mousse and he rested his hand behind me on the counter, leaning in close to take it in his mouth. My stomach went all trembly and when I looked back at Neeta she was smirking. I cleared my throat. ‘I have an idea that might make it a bit easier anyway. Can you call him again, Neeta, and ask him to come back in about an hour?’
‘Sure thing.’
‘Great. Now let’s get this menu sorted for lunch before a pipe bursts or someone sets fire to the library.’
I met Nick on the porch after I finished clearing up the bar from last night. No more snow had fallen but it was at least a foot deep everywhere and the cold snaked in every possible crack of the many layers I was wearing. We could hear voices carrying easily across the unnatural stillness of the snow and we followed higgledy-piggledy footsteps to where the four younger kids staying in the hotel were building snowmen in front of the lounge windows, so their parents could watch them from inside in the warm.
One of the little girls was frowning as she patted more snow on a small lump a short distance from the large snowmen the older kids were working on.
‘What if he doesn’t come to hotels?’
‘I’m sure he’ll come. If he can get down chimneys and knows whether you’ve been good or bad, he must know if you’re staying somewhere else,’ one of the boys reasoned and scooped up another armful of snow. He nodded at us as we were walking by. ‘’Cuse me, you work here right? Does Father Christmas come to the hotel for kids who are on holiday?’
