Chapter Sixteen
Sarah watched in amazement as her son spooned curry and rice into his mouth with the regularity of a robot on a conveyor belt.
“I think he likes it,” Bart said, delight on his face.
“I believe he does.” Sarah appeared equally thrilled.
Eloise failed to see what all the fuss was about. Admittedly, it was an exceptionally tasty curry, and the rice was light and fluffy, and there was even warm naan bread, but why were they so surprised that Toby was enjoying it?
Her puzzlement must have been apparent because Sarah said, “It’s a struggle to get him to eat vegetables.”
Eloise prodded at a chunk of vibrant butternut squash with her fork, musing that she wouldn’t have thought to put it in a curry, but now she’d tried it, she thought it went very well indeed. The man certainly knew how to cook.
Very soon Toby’s face, his hands, and his jumper were smeared in orange sauce, much to Bart’s obvious amusement. The boy’s mother didn’t seem too keen on the state of him, and neither was Eloise.
“Gosh, what a mucky pup,” she said, and Sarah pulled a face.
“Bath time after this, young man,” she said, then stopped and bit her lip before continuing, “It’ll have to be a shower, sorry.”
“No.” Toby was adamant.
“You can’t go to bed like that.”
“No shower. Want a bath.” His expression had become mutinous, and Sarah took a deep breath.
“There’s a proper tub in my bathroom,” Bart said. “You can bathe him in that.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out any more than I have already.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not putting me out. I want you to treat this like your own home while you’re here.”
Eloise knew the girl wouldn’t, but at least Bart had offered.
“Hopefully it won’t be for much longer,” Sarah said. “I’ll get onto the council again tomorrow.”
Good luck with that, Eloise thought. She’d had more dealings with the council than she’d had hot dinners, and knew how rule-bound they could be. And slow. She didn’t know which was worse, the council or social services. There wasn’t much to choose between them in her experience.
No, Sarah and Toby would be here until well into the New Year, and she suspected Bart knew it, too, but didn’t want to upset the girl.
When they’d finished eating, Sarah (at Bart’s renewed insistence) took her son off for a much-needed bath, leaving Eloise and Bart to clean up (at Eloise’s insistence, because he still maintained she was a guest and therefore shouldn’t be expected to lift a finger).
By the time the washing up was done and a cup of tea was made, Toby had had his bath and came downstairs all clean and sweet-smelling. His little round cheeks were pink and his eyes sleepy as he knuckled them.
“I think someone is ready for bed,” Sarah announced. “Say good night to Bart.”
“Don’t want to go to bed.” Toby’s protest was immediately followed by a huge yawn.
“Well, I do,” Sarah retorted. “How about we snuggle down in bed and find a nice film on the TV?” And when Toby cried, “Yes!” she hastened to add, “I’d normally read him a story, tuck him in, and leave him to it, but…”
“This isn’t normal,” Bart supplied. “You do what you have to do, and if you happen to fall asleep with him, we’ll see you in the morning.”
Sarah uttered a grateful good night and carried her son upstairs.
“She looks done in, bless her,” Eloise said. “I don’t think we’ll see her again this evening.”
Bart agreed. “I’ve told her to treat the place as her own, but I don’t think she will.”
“Neither do I.” Eloise was thoughtful. “She reminds me of myself when I was her age. Proud, independent, reserved.”
Bart gave her a sideways look. “I believe you might still be those things.”
“I’m not too proud to ask for a glass of Baileys. I think we’ve earned it today.”
“Haven’t we just! Shall we retire to the lounge?”
“Any idea whether Mitch will be joining us? I was surprised not to see him at dinner.”
Bart shrugged, gesturing for her to go ahead and following her across the hall and into the guest lounge, the bottle of Baileys in his hand. After clicking the door shut, he poured the drinks and handed her a glass.
“I did offer, but he said he’d booked a table at The Bumblebee. I’ve no idea when he’ll be back.” He took a breath. “Thank you for staying. You were a great help today.”
“It was the least I could do.” Her reply was a polite one, but Eloise meant it.
“That was some trick you pulled with the boots.” Bart chuckled.
Eloise tried to explain. “She had to have a decent pair in this weather, and you saw what she was like when it came to buying anything for herself. I practically had to strong-arm her.” Eloise had also managed to persuade Sarah to buy another change of clothes, some underwear, and some very necessary toiletries.
She’d bought a few more things for Toby as well, but it had been hard work.
“I’m going to pop into the village in the morning,” Eloise said.
The jigsaw puzzle lay on the table, and she wandered over to it.
She hadn’t been able to face it yesterday evening, not after listening to Bart play his sax, and had taken the first opportunity to escape.
But since she’d made up her mind to stay, she may as well continue with it.
Anyway, it would give her hands something to do.
Sitting at the table, she studied the pieces, refamiliarising herself with them.
Bart took the seat next to her. “Do you mind if I join you?”
It might test her, having him so close, but she could hardly say no, so she merely smiled and nodded.
He studied the pieces and picked one up, placing it in the correct position. “Would you be buying Christmas presents for Toby, by any chance?” He gave her an astute look.
“How did you guess!” Despite the inevitable interjection of Christmas into what was supposed to have been a Christmas-free break, Eloise couldn’t let the little boy go without on Christmas morning.
Bart took another sip of the creamy drink, swirling it around in his mouth before he swallowed.
Holding up his glass, he said, “This epitomises Christmas for me. I used to buy a bottle every year, and a bottle of sweet sherry for Penny.” He paused, a sad smile on his face, and Eloise dropped her gaze, pretending to concentrate on the puzzle.
He said, “What are you thinking of buying?”
“I spotted a few things when we were out, but I’d like to run them by you first. You might have guessed that I have very little experience with children.”
“You’re actually quite good with Toby,” Bart said, and Eloise let out a surprised huff. “You are,” he insisted.
“Not as good as you or Mitch.”
“That’s because Mitch is a teacher and I’ve got grandchildren.”
“Do they live nearby?”
“Barnstaple, so not far away.”
“How old are they?”
“Kelly is nine and Dylan is seven. I wonder if they’ve got any toys they no longer play with?”
“Toby likes anything with wheels, I’ve noticed,” Eloise said.
“So he does,” he agreed. “There’s a decent little toy shop in the village.”
“From what I remember, Honeycombe Bay has quite a few quirky little shops. There tends to be a prevalence of bee-related goods though.”
“It’s definitely a selling point,” Bart said, upending his glass and swallowing the last mouthful of liqueur. “Fancy a top-up?”
“Go on then, you’ve twisted my arm.”
As he poured the drinks, she caught Bart staring at her and raised her eyebrows.
“I might be risking life and limb here,” he said, “but I bought some Christmas cake. Would you like a slice? It’s very good.”
“Do I take it you’ve already had some?”
“Just a taste. Penny always made her own. Every September she’d make it, soaking the fruit in alcohol beforehand, and then once a month she’d unwrap it and give it another dousing. One slice and you’d be tipsy. Two, and you wouldn’t be able to drive. It was bloody lovely, though.”
“I bet the shop-bought one isn’t a patch on hers.”
“It isn’t, but it’s nice enough.”
Eloise had a choice to make here: She could either carry on trying to battle against the increasing tide of Christmas, or she could swim with it; and since she was already paddling ankle-deep, she may as well fully immerse herself in the festive season.
Eloise didn’t like doing things by halves, and this was no exception.
If she was going to try to make this Christmas as nice as possible for Sarah and her little boy, then she shouldn’t be churlish about it.
She should either be all in, or not bother at all, and a slice of Christmas cake did sound quite nice.
“Just a small piece,” she said.
While Bart was in the kitchen sorting out the cake, Eloise’s gaze drifted to the puzzle on the table in front of her, but she wasn’t really in the mood. Her head was full of Bart and her growing feelings for him.
To distract herself, she thought about what she needed to do tomorrow, because those Christmas presents weren’t going to buy themselves, and when he returned with two plates and a couple of napkins, she got up from the table and sat in one of the easy chairs instead.
Bart sat in the one opposite, after handing her a plate.
“I was going to light a fire,” he said, “but I thought it best not to with little Toby around. Maybe I’ll see if anyone’s got a fireguard I could borrow.
Ross and Amy, that’s my son and daughter-in-law, got rid of all their baby stuff when they moved house, so there’s no point in asking them, but maybe one of the neighbours might have one lying around. ”
“I could always see if I can get one secondhand?” Eloise suggested, and Bart gave her a sharp look.
“Oh no you don’t, lady. I know your game. You’ll just go out and buy a new one.”
“So?”
“It’ll be a waste of money. It won’t be used again after Sarah leaves.”
“That isn’t going to be anytime soon; you do realise that, don’t you?”
“I’m fully prepared for her to be here for a couple of weeks, if not longer, but there are more important things to get than a fireguard.”