‘Come on, let’s get inside,’ says Clemmy. ‘It’s freezing out here.’
We all start walking back to the house, Ruby full of anguish and apologies. ‘I’m so sorry, Mum. I just kept thinking how if Dad were here, we’d have gone off on an adventure, and then I got all sad because Dad always said he was going to teach me to drive. But he’s not here, so how am I going to learn now?’
‘There there, love,’ comforts Gloria. ‘I’ll teach you.’
Ruby looks at her, horrified. ‘I’m not that desperate, Mum.’
Back in the kitchen, I get on with tonight’s food, aware of the comings and goings beyond the door as the small matter of Bob’s damaged car is sorted out by Jed and Ryan. Every now and then, I hear a wail from Ruby, proclaiming how sorry she is. She must be dreading Bob’s return.
I need to get on with the meatballs for the main course so they can firm up in the fridge before I cook them. But when I look in the groceries box, the meat isn’t in there. So where …? Ah yes, the white plastic bag that also contained the cheese …
My insides go cold.
I can’t believe it. I’ve left the bag somewhere. Frantically, my mind tracks back to when I was standing at the bus stop over the road from the café, watching Mark and his mystery woman go into the café.
I must have left the bag on the bus stop seat!
My head spins with horror. What am I going to do? This is supposed to be a special dinner for Bob and there’s no meat. I’ve ruined everything. They’ll have to order a takeaway.
Calm down!
Taking a few deep shaky breaths, I tell myself everything will be okay. My change of plan worked really well at Mrs Morelli’s dinner party, so I can do it again. It will have to be a vegetarian main course tonight. Risotto? Maybe. I check in the fridge. There’s some Portabello mushrooms, courgettes, red peppers, carrots, garlic and corn on the cob. And some pancetta. My brain whirs into action and in the end I decide to roast the vegetables and use them to make vegetable ravioli, then fry the pancetta so it crumbles with a delicious saltiness over the pasta. And I’ll make a light, lemony sauce to go with the dish.
By the time Erin arrives as planned at seven to help with serving up, I’m feeling well in control. She admires the neat ravioli, pasta parcels filled with fragrant vegetables and just the right hint of garlic, and declares that the lemon sauce is to die for.
‘It’s bloody hot in here, though,’ she gasps, shedding her coat.
I touch a radiator only to find it’s burning hot, so I turn it to a low setting. With the last of the ravioli simmering in a pan on the hob, I run my wrists under the cold tap to cool myself down. We made it! And even Ruby will probably tuck in heartily because she absolutely adores pasta.
Erin fans herself with a discarded lettuce leaf, and holds back her hair from her neck. ‘I need to put it up but I’ve lost my hair tie.’
‘Food hygiene rules.’ I waggle my eyebrows at her. ‘I have to do it right if I’m to run a successful business.’
‘Ooh, listen to you!’
I grin back at her. Actually, I surprised myself. Saying it out loud like that, with such confidence, is a far cry from the timid me of only a few weeks ago. Sadly, it’s just wishful thinking, though. There’s no way I can give up my waitressing to do this full-time, however much I might want to. It just wouldn’t be practical financially.
The food goes out and when Erin brings the plates back, to my relief, they’re mostly empty.
‘Did they like it?’ I’m always anxious for feedback.
‘They did.’
‘Are you sure?’ I stare at her suspiciously. She’s avoiding my eye and looks very flushed.
‘Yes.’ Her tone is defensive.
‘Erin? What’s going on?’
She turns miserably. ‘Bob found what he thought was a worm in his pasta.’
‘A worm?’ I shriek, staring at her, appalled. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘Except it wasn’t a worm.’
Erin holds out Bob’s plate and I peer closer. Carefully pushed to the side is a brownish circular object, coated in pasta sauce.
My mouth opens in horror. ‘Your hair tie?’
She winces. ‘I knew I’d lost it. But how the hell it got in the ravioli …’
‘Oh, Erin!’ I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. The person I was keen to impress the most has to be the one to find the stray bloody bobble in his food! ‘What did he say? Was he disgusted?’
‘Well, probably. Wouldn’t you be if you found someone else’s hairy—’
‘Yes, yes. For God’s sake stop rubbing it in.’
‘Actually, he thought it was funny. And he’d pretty much finished by the time he found it. He asked if there was a prize for the person who found the worm in their pasta.’
I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God for Bob’s sense of humour! Although I really ought to go and apologise for—
My mobile starts to ring, making me jump.
‘News is getting around,’ grins Erin. ‘That’s another order for your hair-tie pasta speciality.’
I’m still laughing when I pick up.
‘Poppy?’ The voice on the other end is more of a shriek.
‘Mum?’ I stare in alarm at Erin. ‘What’s wrong?’
She starts to speak but the noise of a police siren in the background drowns out her words. ‘Mum! What’s going on?’ I yell.
Erin puts down the plate she’s drying and comes over, looking worried. My heart is in my mouth.
And then I hear Mum, loud and clear.
‘Can you come, Poppy? Now! I’m trapped in the living room. And it’s on fire. Can you be quick?’ There’s a muffled sound, like a stack of boxes tumbling to the floor.
Mum screams.
And the phone goes dead.
*
I dash from the lodge, with Erin shouting to the others what’s happened.
Jed, Clemmy and Gloria gather at the front door, watching anxiously as I reverse onto the track then drive like the wind over the dips and bumps, back to the main road. The car is practically airborne at one stage, we’re speeding along so fast. Erin insists on coming with me, which I’m really glad about. My heart is in my mouth, wondering what I’m going to find when I get to Mum’s. It was always my worst nightmare, that Mum’s hoarding would lead her into danger, and now …
As we drive into her cul-de-sac, the first thing I spot is an ambulance, and my heart goes into overdrive. Two fire engines are parked up front and the door is wide open, light pouring out of the house. The piles of boxes and crates that were stacked in the hallway have been tossed into the small front garden and for some reason this panics me more than anything. Mum will be furious at her stuff being treated so casually!
There’s no sign of smoke or fire damage from here, but the air is thick with an acrid smell of burning that starts Erin coughing and grows far worse when we get out of the car and dash over to the ambulance. Firemen are visible through the front door, moving about between the living room and the hallway, but I can’t see any flames or smoke. Maybe they’ve put out the blaze already.
To my enormous relief, as we rush for the front door, we see Mum sitting wrapped in a blanket in the back of the ambulance, wearing her Shaun the Sheep slippers and sipping something from a plastic cup. She looks completely forlorn, staring down at her feet as the paramedic – a small, dark-haired woman of about thirty – bends over her. Mum looks up and spots Erin and me. A look of pure relief spreads over her face and my heart twists with love.
‘Oh, Mum.’ I sit beside her and take her free hand, rubbing it to help warm her up. ‘Are you okay?’
‘She’s doing fine,’ murmurs the paramedic, crouching down beside her. ‘Aren’t you, Donna?’
‘Yes,’ says Mum in a small voice. ‘Thanks to you lot.’
Gently, I ask how it happened.
Mum looks sheepish. ‘Stupidly, I decided to have a brandy and a cigarette. Not that I really smoke,’ she adds, for the ben
efit of the paramedic. ‘I just keep a packet for stressful situations.’
I squeeze her hand, my heart sinking. It’s my fault she needed an emergency cigarette. I shouldn’t have brought up the subject of Alessandro in the car earlier. She’s probably been stewing over it ever since.
Mum gives a shuddery sigh. ‘The brandy made me sleepy and I must have nodded off with my cigarette alight because next thing, I was waking up to the smell of burning and a tower of cardboard boxes on fire only inches away from the sofa. They tumbled down when I was speaking to you on the phone and I just managed to move out of the way, otherwise God knows …’ She trails off, silent tears streaking down her face. ‘I’m so sorry, Poppy. I’m about as much use to anyone as a chocolate fireguard these days.’
‘Hey, come on.’ The paramedic takes Mum’s cup from her shaking hand and I pull her into a hug, rubbing her back and shushing her. ‘It’s all right. Don’t worry. The main thing is you’re absolutely fine.’
She hiccups. ‘I didn’t think I’d make it to the front door. But luckily I had my phone with me and the emergency team were here in minutes.’
‘They’re brilliant, aren’t they?’
I smile up at the paramedic, who remarks jovially, ‘Aw, shucks! Tell that to my husband when I’ve woken him up for the umpteenth time frying bacon when I get back after a shift! My name’s Alice, by the way.’
I smile at her. ‘Thank you so much, Alice.’ Then I turn to Mum. ‘You really had me worried. But you’re okay – and it doesn’t look as if there’s too much damage in there.’ I crane my neck to see, hoping I’m not being overly optimistic.
‘You won’t be able to get back in until it’s declared safe,’ Alice says, looking over at Mum’s house. ‘We’ll need to have you checked over at the hospital, Donna, and then perhaps you can stay at your daughter’s?’ She looks enquiringly at me.
‘Yup. Sorry, Mum.’ I keep my tone relentlessly jolly. ‘But you’re going to have to put up with me and my spare room tonight.’
*
Much later, when we arrive back from the hospital, I put fresh linen on the bed in the spare room and turn on the heating in there to take the chill off the place. Then I pack Mum off to have a shower, before getting her into bed with a mug of cocoa, some digestive biscuits and a hot-water bottle for good measure. I can tell she’s fretting about her house and belongings, although only once does she ask me when she’ll be able to go home. I tell her I’ll phone the police first thing next day to find out, but that for now, she must just rest up and allow me to spoil her.
Smiling, I brush a smudge of soot from her cheek that she’s missed in the shower, thinking how lucky we are that she emerged from the fire completely unscathed. Every time my mind wanders to what could have happened, my blood runs cold.
Clemmy phones, anxious to find out how Mum is and I reassure her that she seems absolutely fine, no harm done, just shaken up. It’s lovely to know that everyone at the Log Fire Cabin is thinking of me. I’ve only known them a few days, but it hits me that I’ve grown fond of every single one of them. Especially Clemmy. And Jed.
Once I’m sure Mum’s nodded off, I retreat to my room and phone Harrison’s mobile. I can’t believe he hasn’t responded to the text I sent him this morning telling him about my new catering job. If he’d sent news like that to me, I’d have phoned him straight back.
His phone goes straight to answerphone. Again. I throw my phone down, feeling suddenly lonely and tearful. Then I reason that maybe he didn’t even get my message. International connections can be a bit dodgy sometimes. So I phone again, and when the automated voice finishes speaking, I say, ‘Hi, love, hope everything’s fine over there in Spain. Could you ring me when you get this message? Mum had a fire at her place. She’s fine, so don’t worry, but it would be great to chat. Miss you!’
Of course, there’s one thing I definitely can’t mention, and that’s my intimate encounter with Jed Turner. The dreadful guilt has been gnawing away at me all day. I close my eyes in despair. I’ll make it up to Harrison somehow. I promise I will.
I drift off to sleep with my mobile under my pillow, just in case he calls.
Chapter 23
Christmas Day dawns.
I wake at seven-thirty a.m. to a text from Harrison that’s just arrived:
Merry Christmas, Puss! Feeling sick. Drank too much sangria at Mother’s party. Boring night. Average age of guests about seventy-three. Hope your mum is okay and that she’s realised hoarding is a bad thing xx
I stare at the message, reading it over again.
Why did he send a stupid bloody text instead of phoning me? Couldn’t he hear in my voice that I really needed to talk to him? If he’d phoned me to tell me about a fire, it wouldn’t matter how hungover or sick I was feeling, I would call him straight back. And it’s a little insensitive, rubbing it in about Mum’s hoarding. We all know it’s a bad thing, but surely there’s a time and a place to point it out?
I’m feeling a little crushed, but I haven’t got time to dwell on it. I need to see how Mum is doing after last night’s ordeal, so I shrug on my fleecy robe and slippers, and peer into the spare room. Mum is lying on her back, snoring gently, the remains of the cocoa I took her last night congealing in the mug on the bedside table.
I make tea and go back to my room, standing at the window and staring out at the houses opposite. A feeling of loneliness washes over me. There’s not a single soul about. Everyone is cosy indoors, unwrapping presents or perhaps still in bed, anticipating a day of fun and excitement. My head is still full of the horror of last night: panicking when I got Mum’s call, hearing the fear in her voice; racing over there, my heart in my mouth, desperately afraid of what I would find; the revolting, acrid scent of burning belongings and melting plastic that greeted us. The smell is still in my nostrils. I can even taste it in my tea.
I have a horrible sick feeling inside, knowing how close I came to losing Mum. It’s what I’ve dreaded for so long. A fire – started by one of her occasional cigarettes – blocking off the only exit with Mum trapped inside. It chills me to the bone, thinking what could have happened to her. As it is, she’s had a shock but, thankfully, she seems unharmed.
My mind wanders to the Log Fire Cabin. Will Ruby be up early this morning, demanding to open presents, or has she reached the age where she prefers a lie-in? I need to get organised fairly soon if I’m to cook Christmas dinner for them this evening. The turkey I bought is fairly large and will need a good few hours in the oven.
Soon after nine, a policewoman phones and gently broaches the subject of Mum’s hoarding. I do what I can to reassure her that I will be helping Mum to gut the house of the clutter. I sound confident and certain – which is not at all how I’m feeling. More than ever now, I know that I need to persuade Mum to accept help for her hoarding. But that’s easier said than done. It has to be her decision to see a trained professional. No one can force her. Not even me. Is she even aware of how close she came to total disaster last night?
I take in a cup of tea when I hear her stirring and she gazes at me mournfully, looking as if she’s aged a hundred years overnight. ‘I’m so sorry, Poppy.’
My heart swells with love and relief that she’s okay. I take her hand in mine, smiling through my tears. ‘You’re okay, Mum, and that’s all that matters.’
‘I’m not going to smoke ever again. I promise.’ Her chin wobbles. ‘I’m such a burden to you, love, and I really don’t mean to be.’
‘Don’t be silly. Of course you’re not!’ I pull her into a hug and she clings tightly to me, making little strangled gasping noises as she tries to hold back sobs. I laugh softly. ‘You’re a bit of a pain at times, obviously, but I’m used to that and I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re my mum and I’ll always be here for you. You know that.’
Eventually, she calms down and drinks her tea.
The doorbell rings around ten.
‘I bet that’s Erin.’ I spring off the bed, putting on
a cheerful front for Mum’s sake. ‘She probably wants to make sure you’re all right.’
But when I pull the door open, it’s Jed.
My treacherous heart does a little leap at the sight of him standing there, his big shoulders filling the doorway, hands thrust deep in his jacket pockets. He looks exhausted.
‘Hi, Poppy. Hope you don’t mind me calling round but I wanted to make sure you were both okay. What with – um – Harrison not being here to support you.’ He gives an awkward half-smile.
A painful lump rises in my throat at his kindness. I suppose I’ve been too busy up until now to afford the luxury of breaking down. But all of a sudden, to my horror, hot tears are pricking at my eyes.
‘Hey, hey, you’re okay. Come here.’ Suddenly Jed’s arms are around me, powerfully strong and comforting. ‘Clemmy said your mum was fine when she phoned last night,’ he murmurs into my hair. ‘Is that true? You weren’t just putting on a brave face?’
‘No, no. She is. She’s okay. Just very tired, that’s all.’ My face is crushed against his big chest, and in my weakened state, I feel like I’m drawing strength from the solid feel of him. I want to stay there, in his firm embrace, for a long, long time.
Eventually, he moves his hands to my shoulders and tenderly moves me away from him so he can look at me. ‘You’ve had a tough time. Especially with Harrison away in Spain. Is he on his way back now?’
‘Sorry?’
He shrugs. ‘I thought he’d probably want to be here for you. But I suppose it’s not easy to get a flight on Christmas Day.’
‘Er, no. It’s not,’ I croak, avoiding his eye. ‘But I’m fine. Honestly. And Harrison has to stay and look after his mother.’
‘Right.’ He lets go of me and stands back, and I feel cold and desperately alone without his protective arms around me.
Suddenly, it occurs to me that he probably wants to know about Christmas dinner tonight. How stupid of me not to have phoned the cabin to let them know! Not very professional at all.
‘I’ll be over about four to start cooking. If that’s all right?’ I tell him hastily.
Christmas at the Log Fire Cabin Page 19