Chapter 12
TWELVE
Nick and I swapped places again once more during the night, and had no further concerns about Steve, who was peaceful throughout.
In the morning, I stirred awake, feeling unusually stiff, then instantly remembered where I was.
Sitting up and pushing my hair away from my face, I saw Nick kneeling next to Steve.
For a moment, my heart sank: was the dog okay?
But then Nick turned to me, a smile of pure happiness on his face.
I can only say in my defence that my – well – defences must have been down, due to having just woken up, but for a fleeting moment, I could have pulled the owner of that gorgeous, smiling face right onto the uncomfortable camp bed with me.
Thankfully, my nurse’s instincts proved stronger than any other, and I pulled myself together.
‘How is he?’ I asked.
‘He looks so, so much better,’ said Nick. ‘The difference is incredible. He’s trying to stand up, but I was hoping he might be able to do it without my help.’
In response, Steve suddenly staggered to his feet and stood there swaying slightly, looking absurdly proud of himself.
‘I’ll take him out,’ said Nick, and I seized the moment to straighten myself out and put the kettle on.
It was still very early, and dark, and the lack of sleep would haunt me all day, but I, too, was overjoyed that Steve had made it through the night and looked to be well on the road to recovery.
He was an undeniably daft dog, but he had a sense of kindness and understanding that he was generous enough to extend to all of us.
I wouldn’t forget in a hurry that first night when he had come to sleep on my bed.
When they came back inside, I had made a pot of tea and was boiling some white rice.
‘Just getting your breakfast ready,’ I said to Steve. ‘The vet said you have to have chicken and rice for the next couple of days, little and often.’ I took a plate out of the fridge. ‘And look at this delicious chicken Angela cooked for you last night, you lucky thing.’
A few minutes later, he was eating eagerly, and drinking as well, as Nick and I watched him.
‘Laura, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done,’ said Nick. ‘You’ve helped save his life and been so nice about it. You didn’t even mind cleaning up after him.’
‘I was happy to help,’ I said truthfully. ‘Though… that’s twice I’ve rescued him now.’ I smiled.
‘I suppose it is. Well, in that case – and please don’t say no, which I guess would be your first answer – can I do something for you in return?’
He was right, I normally would refuse to have a favour returned, but his insistence made me think again.
‘Well, there is something, actually. I wonder if you might reconsider getting involved in decorating the house for Christmas. I think it would mean a lot to your family – and I’d like it, too.
I know you said they could go ahead, but I don’t think they will without you.
’ I paused. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but there’s a good chance I’ll need to climb a tree in pursuit of Steve, or abseil down an old well or something to get him out, so could you take that into account? ’
He laughed, as I had intended.
‘That is true. I know I seem like a right Scrooge where Christmas is concerned, but it’s this house.
We haven’t spent Christmas here since Dad died.
We always decamp to London, but Marilise wasn’t up to the journey this year.
My father hated what he always called “the commercialisation of Christmas” in a disgusted tone of voice, and he refused to sully the house by putting up any decorations, even a tasteful wreath on the front door.
When I came home from boarding school, I was already dreading the holidays with that man.
When everyone else had been talking so excitedly about the plans their families had, the ways they were going to deck out their houses and all their special traditions, it was particularly tough to find the house as drab and chilly as ever. ’
My heart went out to the disappointed little boy that I could still see in him, and I thought of all the over-the-top, fun Christmases I had spent with my family as well as with Paulo.
‘I’m so sorry, that sounds awful.’
‘It was. Astrid used to do what she could for me and Victoria – she’d take us out secretly for a special lunch and to see the lights and displays in Taunton, and I’ll always be grateful to her for that.
She also insisted on presents and lots of special food, so it’s not like Christmas was banned altogether.
Although I’m sure it would have been if that man had had his way. ’
Did he ever refer to him as ‘Dad’? ‘That man’ didn’t seem to have earned the title.
‘Astrid’s so kind. She’s always trying to make everybody happy. I’m glad she managed to, at least a little bit, for you and your sister.’
‘She did.’ He frowned. ‘I must talk to her about Philip. I cannot have her marrying another tyrant. Anyway. He used to say, “Thank God carol singers can’t be bothered to come up the drive, I couldn’t stand all that caterwauling and they would have had a wasted journey: I wouldn’t have given them a penny.
” I think the real reason they didn’t come was because they knew exactly what he was like. ’
Tears came to my tired eyes.
‘But music is the best thing about Christmas. How awful to have that denied you.’
‘You really love it, don’t you?’ asked Nick, and I nodded, the tiredness and emotion leaving me unwilling to risk speaking.
‘Then I’m glad you’re coming with me to the concert at the Montgomerys.
They may be a pain, but they put on a magnificent evening; you’ll love it.
’ I nodded, and then he added, ‘And it turns out I’m looking forward to it myself this year. ’
Before I had a chance to think about what he might mean by this, let alone formulate a reply, the kitchen door opened and Sofia came running in, followed by Angela.
‘Is he all right?’ asked the little girl, eyes only for Steve. ‘I’ve been thinking about him all night.’
‘Yes,’ said Nick. ‘He’s done brilliantly. You can see for yourself.’
Sofia flung herself down on the floor and stroked the dog gently. In response, he opened his eyes and gave her hand a lick.
‘Oh! He is better!’
‘Well done, you two,’ said Angela. ‘Did he eat any of his chicken?’
‘All of it,’ said Nick, pointing to the empty bowl. ‘And he can have some more in about two hours.’
I stood up.
‘Right, I’m going to go and jump in the shower, and then I’ll go and see Marilise.’
Twenty minutes later, I was pushing open her bedroom door. She was already awake and sitting up in bed.
‘Good morning,’ I said, drawing the curtains. ‘Have you slept well?’
‘Not at all,’ she replied. ‘Call it the nonsense of an old woman, but I have been so worried about that dog. I kept waking up, wondering how he was, and wishing I could do something to help.’
‘Steve’s fine,’ I said. ‘Nick and I stayed with him all night and now he’s doing well – getting up a bit and eating and drinking.’
Her hand flew to her heart.
‘Oh, what a relief! He is a nice dog, but I was more worried about what the effect would be on Nick if he were to die. Until that boy learns to lean into the love of his family, Steve is his greatest comfort. Now,’ she continued, ‘I would like to go downstairs for breakfast today, please. I feel too far removed from all the action.’
I sent a quick text to Angela to let her know, then helped Marilise with her morning routine before we made our slow way downstairs.
Breakfast was eaten in the kitchen, and when we arrived, everybody was there.
Astrid jumped up to help Marilise to her chair, and I accepted a cup of coffee gratefully from Greg.
Initially, the talk was all of Steve and his recovery; we had to tell the story of the whole night and how we had looked after him.
When that topic was finally exhausted, and I was beginning to think that Steve was the most high-maintenance patient I’d ever had, Nick spoke.
‘It’s nearly December,’ he said. ‘And I was thinking that it’s time to decide how we’re going to decorate the house.’
A little murmur of interest went around the table, and I could see people darting looks at one another – all except Marilise, who was smiling at me.
‘It hasn’t been done for decades, so there’s no traditions to constrain us.
In fact, the only tradition I’ve ever known was that the house wasn’t decorated, so we want to throw that one out, for sure. ’
‘Can we have a tree?’ asked India. ‘There’s room for a huge one.’
‘Done,’ said Nick. ‘Anyone else?’
‘Reindeer,’ said Sofia, hugging Reddo, who came everywhere with her. ‘Not real ones, I suppose, but some big ones outside.’
‘Reindeer, tick!’ said Nick.
‘For my part,’ said Astrid, ‘I’d like dozens and dozens of lights. That’s what Christmas is about, isn’t it, bringing light to the darkness?’
Nick smiled.
‘Definitely lights, they’re on the list.’
‘It will make me very happy to see Lyonscroft dressed up beautifully for Christmas, as she was when I was a young bride,’ said Marilise. ‘I am sorry that my son was so aggravated by the festive season and did not make happier memories.’
‘Nick’s turning it around now, though,’ said Astrid. ‘The new memories will overwhelm the old.’
‘I believe this, too,’ said Marilise. ‘But I have some old memories that may contribute. The decorations that were in the photographs we looked at yesterday – I think, as long as they have not been moved or disposed of many years ago, that some of them are packed away in the attics. Angela, if you do not mind helping me, I would like to insist that Laura takes the afternoon off to help Nick with this endeavour.’
‘Me?’ I said. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
‘You,’ said Marilise firmly. ‘You have so much Christmas spirit longing to be let out. Please, help Nick.’
I nodded silently and took another piece of toast as Marilise told Nick exactly where she thought the boxes were.
I was always glad to be a tourist in other people’s Christmases, and I was delighted that Nick had decided to get involved in the seasonal transformation of the house, but since Paulo died the thought of hanging a single decoration myself had always floored me.
But now I had to admit that I could feel a stirring of excitement in my stomach.
Thoughts of where the tree could stand and of which lights would look best where floated unbidden into my head, and I knew exactly the life-sized reindeer that Sofia would adore.
I used to have one myself, named Noddy, who stood outside our front door with a red bow around his neck.
I had given all our Christmas decorations to the charity shop when I had frantically cleaned out after Paulo’s death, trying futilely to soothe my grief with action.
But maybe I could do it, I thought. For Marilise, for Sofia, for India, yes.
I could frame it in my mind as helping them, then maybe it would be possible.
But a little voice whispered in my head: Just for them?
Or for you, too? And for Nick? I couldn’t deny that, as much as I tried to think of it as altruistic, the opportunity to go all out for Christmas brought a thrill to my heart, even when images of Paulo in his final days were still so strong.
Could I reconcile the two? And could I keep denying that the idea of bringing some Christmas cheer to Nick, which might help the healing of the sad little boy that lived inside him, was the most tempting thing of all?