his face to wake himself up properly, telling himself that he’d misheard her. She couldn’t possibly have said what he thought she’d said.
It was still pitch dark outside, barely five o’clock, but he swung his legs over the narrow single bed of his boyhood room, not prepared to risk going back to sleep just in case the bunny was still there, lying in wait in his subconscious.
He dressed quickly and, very quietly so as not to disturb anyone, went downstairs and let himself out of the house.
Hetty glanced up from the kitchen scales where she was carefully weighing out flour as Annie walked into the kitchen.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she apologised. ‘I had no idea it was so late.’
As she’d lain alone in the large comfortable bed, certain that once again sleep would elude her, she’d started to make a shopping list in her head. The first thing she was going to buy, she’d decided, was a slinky, sexy nightdress. The kind made for taking off rather than putting on. The last thing she remembered was trying to decide whether it should be black or red.
‘I can’t remember the last time I slept like that.’
‘Well, you must have been tired after your journey. Can you make yourself breakfast? There are plenty of eggs, bacon…’ She made a broad gesture at the collection of ingredients stacked on the kitchen table. ‘I find cooking takes my mind off things.’
‘A slice of toast will do me,’ Annie said. ‘And some tea. Can I make a cup for you?’
She smiled. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you, dear.’
Annie dropped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster, put on the kettle.
‘It’s so quiet here,’ she said.
‘This used to be a farm. Didn’t George tell you?’ She looked up. ‘How did you meet?’
‘Actually, Hetty, George and I aren’t…’ she made a gesture that she hoped would cover the situation ‘… together.’ She swallowed as George’s mother, reaching for a bag of sugar, paused, a frown creasing her brow. ‘My car broke down yesterday evening and I called the nearest garage. He came and picked me up.’
‘George took out the tow-truck?’ she asked, astonished.
‘Not with any enthusiasm,’ she admitted. ‘I was going to call a cab to take me to the motel but Xandra asked me to stay.’
‘Xandra?’ She raised her hand to her mouth. ‘You mean…? But I…’
‘It’s all right. An easy mistake to make and George was the complete gentleman…’ unfortunately ‘…and retired, leaving me in sole possession of the bedroom. I do hope he wasn’t too uncomfortable.’
‘He probably used his old bedroom,’ she said, pouring the sugar into the scales. ‘Pity. It’s about time he settled down with a decent woman.’
‘I’m sure he’d be much happier with an indecent one.’
His mother laughed. ‘No doubt. Maybe that’s why he was in such a bad mood when I took him out some tea earlier. I sent Xandra on an errand to keep her out of his way.’
‘Oh. I had assumed she was with him. She seems very keen.’
‘I know. My husband dotes on her. Let’s her do anything she wants.’ She sighed. ‘Life would have been a great deal easier if George had been a girl. He wouldn’t have been so hard. Expected so much…’ Hetty sighed, then smiled as Annie handed her a cup of tea. ‘Even so, he really shouldn’t have let her get so involved with the garage.’
‘She would never have stuck at it unless she really wanted to be a motor mechanic,’ she said, buttering the toast.
‘George told you about that?’
‘No, it was Xandra. She’s very determined. And I should warn you that she doesn’t want to go back to boarding school. She wants to stay here.’
‘She already spends most of her holidays with us. Her mother has other interests. Pass me that bowl, will you?’
Annie would have liked to ask about George. What interests kept him away? But that would be invading his privacy and, instead, she handed Hetty a large old-fashioned crockery mixing bowl.
‘Are you making a Christmas cake?’
‘It’s silly really. You can buy such good ones and I don’t suppose George-my George-will be able to eat it. The doctor said he needs to lose some weight.’
‘Walking is good. For the heart,’ she added. Then, sucking melted butter from her thumb, ‘Can I do anything to help?’
‘You could make a start creaming the sugar and butter, if you like.’ She tipped the sugar into the bowl, adding butter she’d already measured and chopped up. ‘You’ll find a wooden spoon in the drawer.’
There was no fancy electric mixer to make light work of it, but Annie had seen the process often enough as a child to know what she had to do.
‘What’s the problem with your car?’ Hetty asked when she’d spooned the last of the spices into a saucer and everything was measured. ‘Will it take long to fix?’
‘It’s terminal, I’m afraid. George is going to arrange for it to be crushed.’
‘But that’s-’
Before she could finish, Xandra burst through the door. ‘Got them! Oh, hi, Annie.’ She dumped the box on one of the chairs. ‘I’ve been up in the attic sorting out the Christmas decs. Now all we need is a tree.’
‘Why don’t you and Annie take the Land Rover and go and pick one up from the farm?’ her grandmother suggested.
‘That would be so brilliant.’
Annie blinked at the transformation from last night’s moody teen to this childlike enthusiasm.
‘But I…’
‘What?’
‘I really should be going.’
‘Where? You’re staying for the Christmas market, aren’t you? Annie can stay for the weekend, can’t she, Gran?’
‘It’s fine with me.’
‘But you don’t know me from Adam,’ Annie protested. ‘Besides, wouldn’t you rather go to the farm with your father?’
‘You mean the Grinch?’
‘That’s not fair, Xan,’ Hetty said.
‘Oh, please. He hates Christmas and we all know why.’ Then, ‘Come on, Annie, let’s go and choose the biggest tree we can find.’
She swallowed. The scent of the newly cut evergreen brought indoors never failed to bring back that terrible Christmas when her parents hadn’t come home.
‘You will stay?’ the girl pressed. ‘We could go to the market together. It’ll be fun.’
She looked up, ready to explain that she really had to move on, but Hetty, exhaustion in every line of her face, met her gaze with a silent plea that she couldn’t ignore.
‘Let’s go and get the tree and we’ll take it from there,’ she said.
‘Excellent. Can we go now, Gran?’
‘I’ll be glad to have the place to myself. Not too big,’ she called after her, adding a silent, ‘Thank you,’ to Annie before raising her voice to add, ‘We don’t want a repeat of last year.’ Then, ‘Wrap up. It’s cold out. There’s a scarf on the hook. Gloves in the drawer.’
‘What happened last year?’ Annie asked Xandra, tucking the ends of her hair into the woolly hat before she hauled herself up behind the wheel of an elderly Land Rover.
‘Granddad came home with a ten-foot tree and we couldn’t get it through the door. He’s really silly about Christmas.’
‘Is he? You spend a lot of time with your grandparents?’
She pulled a face. ‘We used to have a lovely house with a garden, but my mother took an interior decorating course and caught minimalism, so traded it in for a loft apartment on the Melchester quays. Not the kind of place for
