Chapter Twelve
When Eloise descended the stairs rather later than on previous mornings, Mitch was lingering in the hall, peering around the doorframe into the guest lounge.
A child’s voice yelled, “No, Mama, I want an egg!” and Mitch chuckled.
On seeing Eloise, he drew back from the doorway and said, “Isn’t he cute!”
Sarah and her son were seated at one of the tables. The child appeared none the worse for his ordeal, but Eloise couldn’t say the same for his mother. Sarah looked pale and worried, and there were dark circles under her eyes.
“Have you had breakfast yet?” she asked Mitch, and he shook his head.
“I didn’t like to disturb them.”
“This is a guest house,” she told him. “She’ll expect the guests to be here.”
Mitch gave a wry smile. “I know, but…” He trailed off, leaving Eloise to wonder what the “but” was about.
“How are you, my dear?” Eloise asked Sarah, shooting a pointed look at Mitch, who had edged into the room and was aiming for the table farthest away from the little family.
“I’m okay,” Sarah said, but Eloise could tell she was putting on a brave face.
“Did you manage to get any sleep?”
“Not much. Toby did though, thankfully. All the…” She hesitated, tears welling, and bit her lip.
“Excitement?” Eloise supplied, trying to be tactful in front of the child.
“It wore him out,” Sarah finished gamely. “He’s not long woken up; normally he’s up at the crack of dawn.” She swallowed, her eyes on the pot of tea in front of her. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Eloise replied truthfully. “It’s Bart you need to thank.”
Sarah’s smile was watery. “I have, several times. But thank you, too.” She pulled at the fabric of the jumper Eloise had loaned her.
She was also wearing a pair of Eloise’s trousers, the comfy ones, and some socks.
Eloise had also given her a pair of pyjamas, and Bart had provided the necessary toiletries.
Toby wore his own clothes, and Eloise noticed that the grimy, wet toy rabbit was now clean and dry, if somewhat dog-eared and threadbare from chubby little hands.
Sarah followed her gaze. “Bart put Babbit on a quick wash and tumble to dry him.”
“Babbit?”
“That’s what Toby calls him.”
“Babbit!” the boy screeched, banging the table with his fists. “I want a boiled egg.”
“He loves dipping soldiers in,” his mother explained.
“So do I,” Bart said, making Eloise jump.
She hadn’t heard him come in, and when she turned around, her heart stuttered.
An image of him playing the sax yesterday evening slipped into her mind, and she took a deep breath. What with the appalling events during the night, she had yet to make a decision on whether she would leave, but now wasn’t the right time to think about it.
Or about him.
Anyway, with a layer of snow on the ground, she was stranded for a while. Driving in those conditions didn’t appeal.
“Two boiled eggs and some buttery soldiers,” Bart announced, putting a plate in front of Toby, and Sarah smiled gratefully.
“Thank you.”
“Stop thanking me. You’ve nothing to thank me for,” Bart said, placing another plate in front of her. “A full breakfast. I know you said you only wanted toast, but you’ve got to keep your strength up.”
Sarah’s face crumpled. “I can’t eat this.”
“Just eat what you can,” Bart said.
She pushed the plate away. “I can’t pay you.
” Lowering her head, she turned her attention to Toby, who was having a high old time dunking slivers of toast into a golden-yolked egg and cramming them into his mouth.
His hands were already covered in butter and egg, and a fair bit of it was smeared over his chin and down his T-shirt.
Bart’s mouth fell open, and his gaze met Eloise’s. She was equally shocked. As was Mitch, she noticed out of the corner of her eye.
“I do not want you paying for this, or for anything else,” Bart told Sarah sternly, moving the plate back to its original position. “Now eat up, and let’s not hear any more nonsense about paying.”
Sarah looked like a deer caught in headlights, and Eloise pulled out a chair next to Toby and sat down. “I’ll see to Toby; you eat your breakfast.”
Bart said, “I’ll bring you some tea, Eloise. Mitch, what can I get you?”
“Um, can I have a word?” Mitch asked, beckoning Bart closer.
Eloise strained to hear what was being said, but Mitch’s voice was too low, but she saw Bart place a hand on the young man’s arm and give it a pat before shaking his head with a smile.
Although she didn’t know what had taken place, Eloise could guess. If she was right, Mitch went up even further in her estimation, despite her feeling rather cross that she hadn’t thought to offer to pay for Sarah’s stay at the guest house.
“Don’t concern yourself with my tea,” she told Bart. “Go get Mitch his breakfast. I can wait.”
Wordlessly, Sarah picked up the cup nearest to Eloise, placing it the right way on its saucer, and poured some tea from her own teapot into it. She slid the milk jug across the table. Then she began to eat, while Eloise sipped tea in between mopping up the breakfast-daubed child.
Although Eloise had offered to remain in the guest house with Toby while Sarah and Bart ventured outside to see what condition Sarah’s house was in, Sarah was understandably reluctant to let her son out of her sight.
And Eloise was secretly relieved when Sarah had politely thanked her, then turned the offer down.
Not that Eloise hadn’t meant it (she had), but having had little experience with children, she wasn’t sure how she’d cope without his mother there, especially since Mitch had disappeared upstairs as soon as he’d finished his breakfast.
Toby was adorable though, with his rosy cheeks, button nose, mop of dark brown curls, and wide hazel eyes.
But he was so lively and noisy. He was a right little chatterbox, and whenever Eloise struggled to make sense of something he said, he’d press his lips together, tilt his head and shake it regretfully, then repeat what he’d just said at full, deafening volume.
Bart seemed to be far more in tune with him, but then again, he had grandchildren, so she supposed it was to be expected.
As she watched Bart making sure Sarah was dressed warmly enough to venture outside on what was evidently a bitterly cold and frosty December morning, she once again thought what a lovely man he was.
She also realised that this was the most animated she’d seen him since she’d arrived.
It was as though being needed was just what he needed, and she wondered how long he’d had to care for Penny.
No, not had to, wanted to. The more she came to know him, the more she was convinced that Bart would have wanted to care for his wife for however long it took, whatever it took.
And from where Eloise was standing, she suspected it had taken everything he had.
“Ready?” he asked, and Sarah nodded.
Toby didn’t have any shoes on his feet, so his mother picked him up and carried him, and Eloise thought back to those red wellies and that yellow coat, and she swallowed hard as it suddenly hit her just how bad last night could have been.
It hit her again when she saw the state of the house. A van was outside, some kind of property services company, and two men were boarding up the windows.
Sarah uttered a cry of dismay when she saw what they were doing. “Can I go in?” she asked. “I need—” She blew out her cheeks, and when she said “Everything,” her voice broke.
The man holding a large sheet of plywood in place while the other secured it, shook his head. “Sorry, love, it’s got to be assessed by the fire service first. It mightn’t be safe.”
“Mama, I wanna play tractors.” Toby was looking from her to the house and back again, Babbit dangling by its ear as he clutched the toy in his fist.
Sarah held her son tighter. “I’m sorry, pumpkin, but the tractors are inside and we can’t go in.”
A moment of disbelief was followed by a wail of dismay. To Eloise, it looked as though the boy’s mother was trying not to wail, too.
One of Bart’s neighbours came out of a house farther along the road, and Eloise recognised her from last night. It was Audrey, the woman who had offered Sarah her sofa, and she was carrying several bags.
“I was just coming to yours,” she said to Bart. “I’ve got some bits and pieces for Sarah and Toby. We’ve had a collection.” She aimed this at Sarah. “I thought you’d need a few things to tide you over. It’s not much, but it’ll do in a pinch.”
And Sarah was most definitely in a pinch, Eloise thought. She stepped forward. “Here, I’ll take them for her,” she said. “I think Sarah’s got her hands full.” Toby was having a meltdown, and Sarah was struggling to hold him.
Audrey whispered, “There’s a couple of toys in there that might take his mind off it.”
Eloise leapt on the suggestion. “What have we got in here?” she cried in a singsong voice, and she delved into the heaviest bag and felt around, breaking into a smile of relief when her fingers touched a small metal object with wheels. It wasn’t a tractor, but would a car do?
Thankfully it would, since the crying stopped and Toby reached for it.
“What am I going to do?” Sarah whispered, more to herself than anyone, Eloise thought, as she repeated. “What am I going to do?”
“Is there someone you can call?” Eloise asked. “A family member, or a friend you can stay with? I can drive you, if you want,” she added, hoping it wouldn’t be too far: like Scotland, for instance.
Sarah shook her head. “No, no one.”
She was barely holding herself together, and when Eloise met Bart’s eye, they were in complete silent agreement.
Sarah didn’t need to be standing out here watching some bloke in a hi-vis jacket boarding up her home and worrying where she was going to live.
If Sarah and her little boy were to stay at the guest house for a few days until alternative accommodation was found, that was fine by Eloise.
“No arguments, you’re going to stay with me until something can be sorted out,” Bart said. “Let’s make some phone calls and see where we go from there.”
Yes, Eloise thought, Bart was an exceptionally kind and caring man indeed.
Bart had been thinking. Penny used to wince whenever he said those words, but he had a feeling she’d be fully behind him this time.
His guests mightn’t be, though. However, he would cross that particular bridge when he had to.
And after seeing the condition of Sarah’s house just now, he was fairly sure it would be when and not if.
For now, though, there was a bit of phoning around to do, which would have to be done by Sarah.
He showed her into his private sitting room because that’s where the old computer sat, dusted regularly but not used much these days (Penny had been the more technical of the pair of them), and he left her to it, busying himself with clearing up after breakfast and trying not to get in her way.
She had a number of important phone calls to make, and they needed to be made today, or tomorrow at the latest, since Christmas was approaching at the speed of a train, and most places, especially the council offices, would be winding up activities ahead of the Christmas break.
With the dining area reset and the kitchen cleaned, Bart took himself off upstairs, where he gave each guest room a quick neaten and a whizz around the bathrooms with the antibacterial spray.
Mitch had gone out, so Bart gave his bedroom the once-over first, in case he returned soon.
He was a thoughtful and generous guy, Bart mused as he remade the bed (Mitch’s version of making a bed wasn’t the same as Bart’s).
Mitch had clearly been moved by Sarah and Toby’s plight and by her confession that she couldn’t afford to pay for her breakfast, because he’d offered to cover the cost of her stay.
Bart had turned him down of course—after thanking him.
But it had been very kind of him. As he cleaned the bathroom, he again wondered what Mitch’s story was, and why he was staying in a B&B on his own at Christmas.
Bart was too polite to enquire—but it didn’t stop him from running all kinds of scenarios through his head.
He didn’t think it was because Mitch was trying to avoid the festive season, because he hadn’t seemed in the least bit bothered when Bart had confessed that Honeycombe Bay wasn’t going to be as Christmas-free as he’d led his guests to believe. So what could it be?
With Mitch’s room serviced, Bart knocked on Eloise’s door.
She was seated in an armchair by the window, reading.
“Do you mind if I have a quick tidy?” he asked, brandishing his box of cleaning materials.
“There’s no need. I’ve made my bed. I wouldn’t mind some fresh towels, though.”
“Of course,” he said, and went to fetch them.
When he returned, he noticed she’d put her book to one side and was gazing at the snowy scene outside.
“You’re honoured,” he told her, arranging the fresh towels on the heated rail while checking to see whether any of the complimentary toiletries needed topping up.
“Why’s that?”
“We don’t often get snow in this neck of the woods.”
“I’m not sure honoured is how I feel. Inconvenienced, maybe?”
“It won’t last,” he said. “It’s already melting, and it’ll be gone by tomorrow.
” As he said it, he wondered whether Eloise would be gone by then as well.
He supposed it all depended on how Sarah was getting on with her phone calls.
Because if the news wasn’t good, he had an alternative suggestion that might make Eloise’s stay at the guest house untenable for her.
As though she were reading his mind, Eloise asked, “Any news?”
“Not yet. Sarah is on the phone to the council right now, I believe. If they can’t help, I think the Red Cross might. I can’t say I have much experience with this kind of thing.”
“Me neither, but I’m sure there are procedures and plans in place.”
There undoubtedly were, but would they be suitable plans? He’d just have to wait and see, he supposed.
But when he walked into the twin room where Sarah and Toby had slept last night, his spirits sank when he saw how few personal possessions it contained. The poor girl and her little boy had next to nothing, and his heart broke for her.
“You know what I’m thinking, don’t you, Penny?” he said, gazing at the beds that Sarah had neatly made and eyeing the towels she’d hung on the rail.
This must be so awful for her, feeling beholden to strangers. He could tell she hated it, yet he also sensed her gratitude.
“I like her,” he said to his wife. “I think you would too, and her little boy is as cute as Ross was at his age.”
When he left the room, his mind was well and truly made up, and as he went downstairs he was certain he could feel Penny’s steadying hand on his shoulder.