Chapter 14 John
John
It would seem the ceasefire between Mia and Sam has lasted longer than anyone thought possible.
John is tucked into a corner of the kitchen – not in the breakfast nook since he didn’t want anyone to unknowingly sit on him – where he has been observing the Robinsons.
Martin was the first one down, and after brewing up a pot of coffee, he’d spent an hour absorbed in the morning newspaper.
It occurs to John that Martin seems to be the only one who reads the paper.
Everyone else seems to read everything on their phones.
Yet another thing that’s changed since his time.
Mia came up from the cottage early this morning, and Martin had been effusive in his appreciation of her presence.
It is not lost on John that Martin treasures his daughter, and seems delighted to soak up every second he can with her while she’s ‘home’.
They shared a nice long conversation before the rest of the house woke up, swapping ideas for Martin’s tree theme next year.
It is a bit of a foreign concept to John, this kind of relationship between Martin and Mia.
Martin seems to feel the same way about Charlie too – thrilled to have his son around him for the Christmas holiday, and effusive with his praise and encouragement for how his children’s adult lives are turning out.
John’s been thinking about his childhood with his mother – a quiet, overworked woman who’d raised him on her own.
His mum had rarely talked about his dad, and had no other family to speak of.
Holidays had been a day for his poor mum to finally relax and therefore had not been lavish at all.
An only child, John remembered many a Christmas holiday had passed with him sitting and watching TV, willing away the hours until it was time to return to school and see his friends.
In fact, it wasn’t until he’d taken the job here at Willowby Manor that he’d really had any kind of disposable income whatsoever.
It’s not that John’s mum hadn’t been supportive.
He had never doubted her love for him. After all, she’d provided for him.
Attended every one of his concerts. She’d just been a quiet, reserved woman, worn out by the challenges of life.
Once again, John wondered what had happened to her after he’d died.
It broke his heart to think of his mum living out her days alone.
Did she ever have any visitors? John was intimately acquainted with the horrors experienced by years of solitude.
Which is probably why he looked forward to Christmases here so much.
He’d grown especially fond of the Robinsons over the years as he’d soaked up every minute of family togetherness.
And even if helping Mia sort out her love life didn’t help him pass through this ether into the afterlife, it wouldn’t be a hardship to keep watching the Robinsons year after year.
After a bustling morning, the manor kitchen is still full of commotion. Mia and Martin are engaged in a heated game of draughts. Charlie and Sam have taken turns with the hot air popper and have filled an enormous bowl with popcorn, which they are now doing their best to eat in its entirety.
‘Afternoon, dearies.’ Penny breezes into the kitchen.
‘Aunt Gertie said to let you all know she’s lying down for a long nap, but she’ll be raring to go again this evening.
She was mumbling something about ghostly biscuits again before she went to her room.
I worry about her. I think she might be losing it a little. ’
Mia glances over at John, who raises his eyebrows. ‘Oh, she’s been leaving biscuits out for the manor ghosts every day. Says they deserve a little extra something because it’s Christmas. I can make up another batch, I guess.’
Penny shakes her head. ‘Why would you need to keep making new batches?’
Mia shrugs. ‘Because the biscuits keep going missing?’ This was said with another surreptitious glance John’s way.
John winces. He actually despises eating the biscuits, since they all taste like cardboard to him. But he figures it’s the polite thing to do, since it matters so much to Aunt Gertie.
‘Boys, are you eating Aunt Gertie’s biscuits?’
Sam shakes his head emphatically. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘Yeah, me neither,’ Charlie agrees.
Penny pats Charlie on the arm and then begins fixing herself a sandwich. ‘Oh, darling, whatever happened with Molly? I thought she was coming in on the train yesterday?’
Charlie pouts. ‘She was, but her dad was giving her a ride to the station and the car blew a tyre. She missed the train.’
‘And there hasn’t been another one since?’ Mia asks, her expression perfectly innocent.
Charlie glares at her. ‘Of course there was, but her dad asked her to stay until the car gets fixed. Apparently, it had to be towed, and then they discovered the transmission was leaking or something. Anyway, her family asked her to stay. The mechanic assured them he’ll have it done by the end of the day.
Speaking of, I should go check in with her.
’ Abandoning the popcorn, Charlie lopes upstairs. Mia snickers under her breath.
‘Something funny, Mia?’ Martin asks, as he peruses the board.
‘If that girl turns out to actually be real, I will eat my slippers.’
‘Mia, don’t be absurd.’ Penny shakes her head while she waits for her bread to toast.
‘I’m not being absurd!’ Mia objects. ‘I have legitimate doubts about her existence.’
‘Well, of course you do. We all do.’ Penny tsks. ‘But I think a better bet is to say if Molly turns out to be real, you will make us all beef Wellington for New Year’s Day.’
‘Ugh, no,’ Mia groans. ‘It’s such a tedious and finicky dish to make.’
‘But you most likely won’t have to,’ Penny reminds her.
Martin chuckles and moves his piece.
‘OK, fine,’ Mia says. ‘But if she’s not real, you have to make those brioche buns that we all love, Mum. You used to make them every Christmas and you haven’t in for ever.’
‘Well,’ Penny huffs, expertly hiding her smile, ‘I got tired of spending my entire Christmas Eve in the kitchen. But, all right. If Molly doesn’t show her actual, physical face by Christmas evening, I will make the brioche for New Year’s Day.’
‘Yeah!’ Mia does a silly little fist pump. John chuckles under his breath. He’s beginning to think Mia has a good chance of getting those brioche buns. Charlie doesn’t seem like the deceptive sort, but it is odd that this ‘girlfriend’ keeps encountering so many delays.
‘I suppose I’d better go pick up the ingredients for the brioche,’ Penny says thoughtfully, glancing out the window at the swirling snow. ‘Martin, will you drive me into town? We can get them while we pick up the turkey.’
‘Of course, dear,’ Martin says, unbending his lanky frame from the chair. He puts his palms on his lower back and stretches. ‘Let me just get my coat. Oh, look, it’s snowing again.’
‘Aw, Dad, you can’t leave. We haven’t finished our game yet,’ Mia protests.
‘But we have.’ Martin leans down and jumps her remaining pieces. Mia’s mouth falls open, and Sam coughs. The cough sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Mia looks over at him, and Sam pounds himself on the chest.
‘Sorry. Kernel got stuck in my windpipe.’
‘Hmmph.’ Mia tucks the game pieces in their box and stows it back on the shelf. After glancing outside, she shivers. ‘Ugh. I’m freezing. I think this weather calls for hot chocolate and a film.’
‘Oh, yes, please,’ Sam agrees. He wipes the counters clear of stray popcorn kernels and sweeps it all into the bin.
Martin and Penny call out their goodbyes and head for the front hall.
Anxious for some fresh air, John follows them.
If he ducks outside as they leave, he can avoid the dreaded indigestion.
Martin and Penny make short work of donning coats and boots, and then they step outside.
John is careful to step in their footprints as they tromp through the snow to the garage, so as to not draw attention to himself.
After Martin and Penny enter the garage, John diverts back towards the house.
He breathes in the crisp winter air and then walks around the back, waiting beside the kitchen window until he can catch Mia’s attention to let him inside.
Of course, he could open the doors by himself, but again, people tend to notice things like that.
The glow of the kitchen lights spills out on to the falling snow, and John sighs in appreciation at the sight.
Mia moves back and forth within the kitchen, chatting easily with Sam as she works.
Sam leans against the counter, listening.
He grabs a mug and places it on the counter, and then brings down another at her instruction.
John smiles in satisfaction. This whole matchmaking thing is turning out to be even easier than he remembered.
Tired of waiting out in the snow, he walks closer to the window and raps on the glass.
Sam turns, startled, and Mia meets John’s eyes over Sam’s shoulder.
John points in the direction of the door and Mia nods in understanding.
She exchanges a few words with Sam, and whatever she says seems to soothe his nerves.
A few moments later, the back door opens and Mia bends down, scooping up a bowlful of snow.
‘Well, hurry up,’ she admonishes quietly. ‘I needed a reason to go outside, so I told Sam some nonsense story about how we always melt fresh snow into our hot chocolate. This better be worth it.’
John snickers as he steps inside. ‘It will be a new Robinson tradition.’ He follows Mia back into the kitchen.
‘Got your snow?’ Sam asks pleasantly.
‘Ah, yep. This is the best kind too. Not too crunchy and not too fluffy,’ Mia vamps, rolling her eyes when Sam drops his gaze to the bowl in her hands. ‘You’ll see, it adds the perfect touch.
‘Does your family usually watch Christmas films?’ Mia asks, as she pours the chocolate into the mugs.