Chapter Twenty-One #2
They pull into the car park at the village hall and Priti hops out, just as Christopher takes out his phone.
‘I’ll go inside too,’ says Nash, half a question, half a statement, but Christopher nods.
The last thing he needs is his mother distracted by Nash and their whole situation.
That woman has a preternatural sense for knowing someone else is at the other end of a phone call; she’d make a tremendous spy.
His mother answers just as Nash shuts the van door.
‘What’s that noise, Christopher? Why are you in a van? Are you labouring?’
‘What is labouring?’
‘Being a handyman, Christopher. It’s very obvious.’
‘Well, no, I’m not. It’s the van that came with the bakery. One of the other people in the town managed to fix it up for me.’
Not entirely a lie, but it still yields a suspicious Hmm.
‘And how did you know I’m in a van?’
‘I can just tell these things.’ Sometimes it terrifies him how omniscient she is. ‘Has that man left yet?’
‘Which man?’
‘Don’t be coy. It doesn’t suit you.’
‘We found him alternate lodgings,’ Christopher says quickly.
‘Anyway, Mother, I’m ringing because I need some help and I thought, with your vast network of contacts, you might be able to assist me.
’ Esther loves a bit of flattery, and he must admit, he’s a bit of a Mummy’s-boy suck-up, but it always gets the job done.
Christopher takes his time explaining Myffy and Mohan’s situation, and that he’s trying to source a car that Mohan could drive home.
‘Well now, you have been a busy bee,’ Esther says, and Christopher is almost positive he can detect a glimmer of pride in her voice.
‘Just trying to help everyone out.’
‘The insurance would be expensive to take out right now,’ he hears his father say in the background. ‘Unless the chap has multi-vehicle coverage.’
‘Yes, well that’s something we’ll deal with if we can find him a car to drive. I didn’t want to get their hopes up until we could find a car.’
‘It’s not every day a man asks another man to entrust his vehicles into someone else’s hands,’ Otto says with all the seriousness of a prophet.
‘I know, but it’s important. If it was Kit—’
He doesn’t manage to finish the sentence because his mother answers. ‘I’ll make some calls, Christopher, but there’s no guarantee. Give me an hour.’
And with that, she hangs up, clearly already beginning her mission to find a car.
Christopher rushes into the town hall, out of the freezing cold of the van, finally thankful for the permanent installation of the hot drinks table, even if both the tea and the coffee are little more than overheated metallic-tasting water.
After grabbing a cup of what he thinks might be Earl Grey tea but frankly could be anything, he joins everyone at the Mission Control table.
He doesn’t see Nash, and tries to act as if this is fine and good and he’s probably just in the bathroom, rather than walking back to LA.
‘I heard you’re after a car for Mohan. You called your mam?’ Shaz asks, handing him a hot cup of tea she had already made for him in a mug that says World’s Best Grandma.
Unfailingly polite, Christopher takes it, then just stands there holding two blisteringly hot mugs at once. ‘Yes, she’s on it.’
‘It’s a Christmas miracle.’
Shaz settles into a folding chair and pats the one next to her for him to sit down, too. It’s rather difficult to sit down while holding and not spilling two mugs, but he manages it. Maybe he should ask Nash for some tips about strengthening his core.
‘Have you been here all day?’ Christopher asks.
‘I’ve been coordinating, slash, on Ursula duty.’
‘What does that entail?’
‘Making sure she’s not pissing off Tammy.’
Without looking up from her laptop, Tamara gives a thumbs up straight into the air.
‘See, I’m doing a great job. Plus, I’ve been walking prescriptions over to people’s houses, and I picked up all the dog poop from Mrs Llewellyn’s back garden. And I even went home to look after the kids for all of five minutes.’
‘You’re a saint.’
‘You bet I am. And the best part is, I think me being so community-minded might have inadvertently given me some bonus brownie points with Kathy.’
‘How’s Gar’s foot?’
Shaz pulls a face. ‘Absolutely grim. I made the mistake of looking and it looks like a pear someone kicked down the stairs. Not broken, but still. Yuck. Priti is going to score us some crutches from her stash.’
‘Stash makes it sound so sordid, Shaz,’ Priti sighs as she passes them.
‘And a little spicy.’
‘So, what’s our next daring mission?’ Nash says as he returns, leaning his hand on the back of Shaz’s chair. Christopher offers him one of his two mugs, and luckily Nash takes one. ‘Is it dinner and an early night? Please say it is?’
Despite the joke, Christopher wants to ask where he was, and if he is okay.
He had looked so tired when they had got into the van, and it’s been such a long day .
. . but he bites his lip because there’s no way he can ask without arousing Shaz’s suspicions, and he’s pretty sure what Nash said about his seizures was need-to-know information.
Instead, he says, ‘Any more pensioners need us to facilitate coitus?’
At least this gets a laugh out of Nash.
‘Oh my god, are you serious? Look at you love bugs,’ cackles Shaz. She turns to yell at Priti across the hall. ‘Here, Priti, you’d better go make sure they’ve not broken a hip tomorrow.’
Priti closes her eyes just for a second and walks over to them. ‘I hope you left them some condoms.’
‘Do I want to know?’ asks Tamara nervously, who has finally looked up from her laptop at the sound of this.
‘Probably not,’ answers Shaz.
‘Sorry. Nurse-mode,’ says Priti. ‘I can’t help it. You wouldn’t believe how little the older members of society know about safe sex.’
The last time Christopher felt this uncomfortable about someone saying the word sex in his presence was probably when he was about fifteen and in the throes of puberty.
But today, with someone he has had sex with sitting just behind him, just acknowledging the act as a possibility between two humans makes him feel naked, in the bad way.
Can Shaz tell? How the hell is he going to tell her? It probably can’t be until Nash has left and they can all move on from this.
After he’s left . . .
Christopher shakes his head, as if to dislodge the thought, and stands up to speak to Tamara properly. And to get a little more distance between him and Nash. ‘Need anything else from us today?’ He hopes that she’s going to say no, so that Nash can get some rest.
‘Well, it’s going to be a huge ask,’ Tamara says bluntly.
‘Thanks to all the volunteers, I think we’ve managed to speak to pretty much everyone in Pen-y-M?r who is still here.
There are quite a few people isolated and without family members here for Christmas .
. . so I was thinking we should have everyone here for a big meal?
’ The only thing is that I don’t know where to start. . .’
‘I’ll host it,’ says Christopher before he can think too much about it.
‘Really?’ Tamara’s face lights up. ‘It’s a lot to ask of you.’
‘It makes the most sense. I’ve got tables and chairs set up, and a much bigger kitchen than in here.’
‘True, the oven in the wee kitchen can barely warm a sausage roll,’ says Shaz in a way that suggests this has been a major issue they’ve been trying to solve today.
‘With some volunteers in the morning to help me cook and set up, we could make a few courses. It might be rustic, but it’ll be something, and no one will have to be alone.
’ He can feel the flicker of excitement in his stomach.
Christopher loves cooking for people, and he never did follow up with Shaz about Christmas at hers what with all the general chaos around them.
This way, he gets to be useful and make people happy.
‘We’d definitely have to raid all the supermarkets and corner shops,’ adds Nash.
‘Perhaps I can call in some favours . . .’ murmurs Tamara. ‘The only other issue is getting everyone up here.’
‘If someone else can organise getting people to the bakery, we can focus on cooking,’ says Christopher. ‘We could lend the van?’
‘The van can fit two passengers in the front, one or two in the back, and nine small to very small dogs, but it’s hardly comfy and not exactly accessible if anyone has any mobility issues,’ says Nash.
‘Point taken. Does anyone have anything bigger than a five-seater?’
‘Me,’ answers Ursula, striding across the village hall in matching furry snow boots and gilet.
She looks like the villainous ex-girlfriend from one of Nash’s movies.
It’s kind of a serve. ‘I’ve got a people-carrier for the kids, and we can borrow the minibus from the care home, as they will be doing everything in-house tomorrow.
And Mervyn has a black cab he was planning to do up, but it still has all the fittings.
Together, we can pick everyone up and bring them over.
That’s if you actually want to listen to any of my suggestions, Tamara. ’
The last bit is delivered quite haughtily.
‘That’s really generous of you,’ Christopher says when no one else responds.
Ursula looks about ready to kick off as Tamara, Shaz and Priti are so clearly in the unwilling acceptance stage, so Nash steps in and turns on the golden-boy charm. ‘We would really appreciate your help, ma’am,’ he says with a smile.
It is truly amazing how quickly Nash can disarm someone, Christopher thinks, especially when he spends most of his time winding him up. Perhaps it’s all part of the media training – how to speak to journalists and how to calm a storm before it rises.
Except, this time, it doesn’t seem to work.
‘Please don’t “ma’am” me,’ she sneers in such a way that Christopher is pretty sure he sees Nash shrink.