9
Dorothy
A t the same time that Imogen was shivering alone on a bench, Dorothy was loading her overnight bag into her car.
She took a last look at the house, illuminated and glowing in the winter darkness thanks to Patrick, who had strung Christmas lights around the door and the eaves. It had never looked prettier, with its roof white from the light dusting of snow they’d had during the day and the trees gleaming white.
“Do you have to go tonight?” Sara huddled inside her coat. She’d been fretting for the past hour as they’d checked on all the animals. “I know it’s only six o’clock, but it’s already dark, the temperature is dropping and you have a couple of hours of driving ahead. Why not wait until morning and go in daylight?”
“Because then I’ll have to contend with traffic. This is the best time to drive into London. By the time I reach the outskirts all the commuter traffic will have died down. And I enjoy the journey. I’m listening to an excellent audiobook.” She checked that she had her phone and her laptop. “I do feel a little guilty leaving you to keep an eye on the animals while I’m gone. It’s a lot to ask.”
“It’s not a lot to ask. We’re family. I couldn’t even begin to list all the things you do for us. Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll be fine, won’t we, Ava?” Sara turned to smile at her youngest daughter only to find she’d disappeared. “Ava? Ava! Oh, where has she gone now? I need eyes in the back of my head and the sides. She was here a moment ago. Did you see her?”
“I was too busy loading the car. She can’t be far.” Dorothy felt a flash of disquiet and calmed it. Overreacting wasn’t going to help. “Bailey has gone too, so I assume they’re together.”
“Ava!” Sara yelled her daughter’s name and then gasped as a snowball hit her squarely in her chest.
Ava appeared from behind a bush, grinning, Bailey by her side. “Surprise!”
“Mmm.” Sara brushed snow from her coat. “You shouldn’t wander off, Ava. Not when it’s dark.”
“Bailey and I went to say good-night to Benson, and to tell him I’ll be looking after him for the next few days. I thought he should know.”
“I’m sure he was reassured to hear it.”
“It’s a very responsible task, Ava.” Dorothy bent and brushed snow from Ava’s hair. “I’m relying on you.”
“Don’t worry.” Ava patted her arm. “Everything will be fine.”
Dorothy straightened and looked at her daughter. “You’re sure you can manage?”
“Of course we can manage. It’s just a couple of nights. Stop worrying.” Sara grabbed Ava’s hand to stop her disappearing again. She’d pulled her wool hat down over her ears and the strands of hair that had escaped flicked and curled around her face like wisps of gold. “Everything is going to be fine.”
“Be careful with the bolt on Thelma’s stable. You know she has learned to let herself out.”
“I know.”
“And if you have any worries at all about the animals, call Miles.”
“I will.” Sara shivered as thick flakes of snow started to fall. “Mum, it’s icy and the forecast is terrible. Why don’t you call Imogen and postpone?”
“Because I don’t want to postpone. This is an enormous project. I want to stay on top of it, and anyway I’m looking forward to seeing Imogen. It will be the last time I see her before Christmas. It’s not just work, it’s also pleasure. This is my opportunity to thank her for all her hard work. I’ll take my time driving, and the roads will be clear once I’m away from the country lanes.” She didn’t tell Sara that she had already called Imogen to confirm because of the weather, but hadn’t had a reply. It was unusual, because Imogen always answered Dorothy’s call immediately, and on the odd occasion when she hadn’t she’d called right back. But not this time. Dorothy had left three messages, and Imogen still hadn’t returned her call. She’d almost contacted Rosalind to check everything was all right, but she didn’t want to risk getting Imogen into trouble by revealing that her calls hadn’t been returned. She was probably in the middle of supervising an event. She’d mentioned that she had a busy December.
Dorothy intended to drive to London, spend the night in the little apartment she’d bought many years before and then tomorrow she’d head to the restaurant as agreed. Imogen would be there, she was sure.
She knew so little about Imogen’s life outside work, but she did know that she was reliable.
“Message me when you arrive,” Sara said. “That’s if you’re not stuck in traffic until Christmas Eve. Everything is crazy at this time of year.”
“I enjoy my trip to London at Christmas. Stop worrying. And anyway, this isn’t just about meeting Imogen. I need to do some Christmas shopping. A certain toy shop is calling me.” She winked at her granddaughter, who grinned back.
Dorothy cleared the snow from her car.
“Have you called to confirm?” Sara looked troubled. “You should call and confirm.”
“The table is booked. Imogen has never in her life not done something she said she was going to do. She is the most reliable person I have ever worked with.” She bent down and kissed Ava. “Remember. You’re in charge.”
“Got it.” Ava saluted. “I’m the boss.”
“You are the boss.” Dorothy hugged her, and then her daughter. “I’ll be back before you notice I’m gone. And I’ll be bearing gifts.”
“Go, Nanna,” Ava urged. “Go now!”
“Ava, that is not polite.” Sara spoke firmly although the effect was slightly lessened by the fact she was trying not to laugh.
“Nanna said it, not me. I didn’t ask.”
Dorothy smiled and gave them a wave as she drove off. She knew Sara worried, but that was because they were so close. After Phillip had died, it had been just the two of them. She worried about Sara just as much.
Once she reached the main roads, her drive was easier than Sara had predicted and she reached London in good time.
She parked in the underground garage and headed up to the top floor.
She’d bought the apartment the year after Phillip died. It had been a sound financial investment, which also gave her a London base. She’d never been a lover of impersonal hotels.
The apartment wasn’t large—just one bedroom—but it had a glorious roof terrace with expansive views toward the River Thames. And she didn’t need anything large. This place suited her purpose perfectly, and when Sara stayed too she slept on the sofa.
Dorothy unpacked the homemade soup she’d brought with her and heated it on the stove in the kitchen while she checked her phone. Imogen hadn’t returned her call and she turned the stove off and called again, promising herself this would be the last time.
Imogen’s voice sang cheerfully out of the phone.
You’ve reached Imogen. Please leave a message and I’ll get right back to you.
Dorothy didn’t leave another message. Instead, she ended the call and poured the soup into a bowl. She wasn’t the sort of person who expected the people she worked with to be available 100 percent of the time. She knew Imogen was in demand and busy, but still this was unusual.
She told herself that if something was wrong, Imogen would have found the time to call.
And anyway, even if Imogen had rung her to cancel, she still would have come to London.
She planned to do some Christmas shopping and enjoy the lights and festive displays in London.
Everything was going to be fine.