‘But, Beth, all this mess…’
‘Forget about it.’ I forced some energy into my voice and rounded the island to take her by the shoulders. ‘It’ll get sorted. Just get yourself home to your family, sleep and enjoy a lovely Christmas Day. Okay?’
She nodded and gave me a hug. Her hair was a grease slick and she reeked of meat and onions and spices. Being a chef was a glamorous business.
‘Thanks. I’ve written down the instructions for the goose. I couldn’t get it in the oven today but it won’t take long. It’ll make the place smell good too.’
I patted her on the back and kept my concerns about how detailed her instructions were to myself.
Once Neeta was gone, I necked a coffee, washed my face, brushed my hair and headed for the library.
It was like the perfect Christmas card scene: oak beamed ceiling, a real Christmas tree decorated in red and gold, fire crackling in the hearth (I’d remembered to light it earlier), a green garland draped over the mantel, candles flickering around the room and a group of guests in their cosiest jumpers sitting in armchairs, kids crowded around the piano, snow piled high outside, everyone waiting for me to lead them into song.
Dorie, Nick and Stephen were by the fire. Dorie seated, Stephen with an elbow resting on the mantelpiece like Val Doonican and Nick…Nick was perched on the corner of the romance bookcase, one foot on the floor and one dangling, tapping to a frenetic beat no one else could hear. His mouth went up at the corner as I walked past but his eyes were not focusing on anything.
I took a seat at the piano, set my shoulders back and dived into ‘Jingle Bells’, with no preamble. Everyone knows that, and I figured the kids would go for it. They had to sing too; this was a carolling evening, not a concert. If the guests weren’t going to join in with me, I’d be wrapping this up after three songs and going to bed.
The kids pulled through for me. And once their sweet, little shouty voices got going, most of the adults joined in too. Thank goodness.
I transitioned straight into ‘Frosty the Snowman’ before they could start getting nervous and the tension eased out of my shoulders some more.
But I was aware of Nick even though he was no more than a flicker in the corner of my eye. I could see Stephen better but that was no great reassurance. He wasn’t really singing. His head kept turning in his brother’s direction, which was making the need formeto turn my head in his direction overwhelming.
Giving in, at the end of the song, I spun around on my seat with the cover story of asking if anyone had any requests and the words nearly died in my throat. Luckily there was a small smattering of applause that I could let peter out while I studied him.
He looked even worse than earlier. His sleeve was down over his hand and pressed to his mouth. He didn’t catch my eye because he was staring at the fire, foot still tapping.
‘Anyone have any requests?’ I managed to get out, smiling at the rest of the guests who all looked positively giddy in comparison.
‘“Let it Snow”,’ someone called out, and as I nodded Nick stood up suddenly. Dorie reached out to touch his hand and he shook his head and pulled away, edging his way out of the room.
I immediately wanted to follow him. But I couldn’t. There was a bunch of people waiting for me to play ‘Let It Snow’. I took a deep breath and felt only marginally better when Stephen pushed off the mantelpiece, stooping to whisper something in Dorie’s ear before following his brother out.
Every muscle in me was twitching to go to Nick. I had to push the impulse down and it made tears prick at the backs of my eyes. This was what the hotel did. Being responsible for it made you have to answer to the guests’ expectations, and often that meant putting the personal on hold. I don’t know how my mum did it all the time, especially when Dad was ill. She must’ve wanted to ditch it all so much and I didn’t understand why she hadn’t if I was honest. Why she couldn’t bear to let anyone else run the place…apart from me.
Except…thiswas why she trusted me to do it. Not because I was completely organised or an expert, but because she trusted me to make that same choice now. For her. To protect what she had worked so hard for. The guests were getting annoyed at dinner – I’d seen it – I couldn’t let them down now, when it was all coming together. I couldn’t let her down.
So, I played the piano, and I sang the songs, and I tried to push Nick out of my mind.
‘Okay, I’m going to take a ten-minute break – then we’ll do a couple more songs before we get the cookies and carrots ready for Father Christmas and his reindeer,’ I announced several songs later to the group.
The crowd quickly dispersed to chat and go to the toilet, but I saw Dorie was still sitting in the armchair on the far side of the room. I went over to her even though I was busting for a wee, and a drink too. I needed to ask her what was going on with Nick. Stephen hadn’t returned and she’d been sat on her own, her face lined with sadness. For the first time, she really looked her age, even in the soft lighting.
‘Dorie, are you okay?’ I crouched down beside her.
She turned to look at me and I was shocked when she reached out and touched my cheek gently; tears were brimming in her bright eyes.
‘You’re a lovely girl, Beth. Nick’s mum would’ve liked you.’ She patted my cheek and dropped her hand back down to her lap, where she was holding a silver flask I’d not noticed before.
‘What happened? Is Nick all right?’
‘Not really.’ Her lips pressed together hard before she spoke again. ‘He hasn’t told you has he? About his mum passing.’
I shook my head slightly; throat closing up. ‘No. But Stephen did.’
‘It’s so hard for those boys.’
‘For you too.’
