We linked arms as we headed back to the old couple. David’s head had flopped back, his mouth ajar as he snored like a steam locomotive. Daphne had her half-moon glasses on, looking like Professor McGonagall from Harry Potter, as she knitted a tiny, brightly coloured striped jumper.
‘What are you making?’ I asked.
‘A jumper for Mr. Sumo,’ she smiled, peering at me over the top of her glasses as we sat cross-legged on the picnic blanket in front of her. ‘He’s going to feel the cold even more this winter, now that he’s not very well.’
‘You’re so good to me, Daphne.’
‘Nonsense. You and Georgie are so good to David and me. You’re young, you should be out having fun, not taking us old fogies on beach trips, cooking us Sunday dinners, doing our shopping and heavy lifting.’
‘We don’t mind,’ Georgie said, and I shook my head in agreement. ‘You’re as good as family to Abbie, and I know I haven’t known you that long, but you feel like it to me, too.’
‘Don’t make an old lady cry, girls,’ she moaned, putting her knitting down in her lap. ‘What say we wake up the old codger and have something to eat? I’m feeling a bit peckish.’
‘Me too,’ I agreed. ‘Has he always snored so loudly?’
‘It started when he hit forty. Trust me, it’s all downhill from there. One minute he went like a locomotive, the next he was snoring like one.’ She smiled as we burst out laughing.
‘Gosh, as Miller’s just hit thirty, I’ve only got ten more years of steam left in him then. I’d better make the most of it.’
‘It’s about time you thought about settling down and starting a family, Abbie Carter,’ Daphne warned with a pointed look at me, before she turned to shake David’s arm. He jumped in his seat, a startled grunt erupting that had all three of us giggling like schoolgirls.
We were chatting away, eating our picnic of delicatessen meats and cheeses, along with nice pâté on crusty bread, when I gasped in horror as a stream of seagull poo fell from the sky and landed on the peak of David’s cap. It was the consistency of warm, runny icing, in shades of grey and white, and just as he parted his lips to push a morsel of the loaded bread into his mouth, a dollop of poo slithered over the edge of his cap and landed straight on the pâté. He shoved it in and started chewing before I had a chance to do anything to stop him. I froze mid-conversation as my jaw dropped, waiting for some kind of reaction from him to it, but he swallowed it down and smacked his lips.
‘Where did you get that pâté again, Abbie? Best I’ve ever had, real creamy texture to it, isn’t it.’
I sucked my lips into my mouth, clamping down on them furiously as I tried to hold in my laughter.
‘You think, David? Personally I thought it was a bit shitty,’ Georgie giggled next to me. I shot her a look as she put her head down, her shoulders shaking, and I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I roared with laughter and fell backwards onto the picnic blanket, clutching my sides. Georgie’s laughter, interspersed with her one flaw, a loud piggy-like snort every few gasps for air, made me laugh even harder.
‘Youngsters. I don’t get them, nothing shitty about that pâté at all,’ I heard David mutter in the background, Daphne agreeing, as Georgie collapsed next to me, crying so hard her mascara was running down her cheeks.
‘Oh my God,’ she moaned under her breath after we’d tried to compose ourselves. ‘I nearly died, and the look on your face was priceless.’
‘If he dies from bird flu, you won’t be laughing so hard!’
‘Bird flu! Stop it, my sides are hurting.’
‘I’m serious. It’s a well-known fact that eating bird shit transmits bird flu in humans.’
‘I never heard that before. You’re a mine of information, Abbie Carter,’ she exclaimed.
‘And you’re so gullible,’ I teased.
‘Gullible, ha-ha, nicely punned. So it’s not true? Flu from poo?’
‘Honestly, I’ve no idea,’ I giggled, trying to pull myself together. ‘We should get him checked at the hospital, right? It can’t be good for you to eat poop.’
‘I don’t know, I was fed shit for the last year of my engagement and I’m doing ok,’ she winked.
‘Yes, you are, aren’t you?’ I beamed, flashing her a wide smile. ‘It will be time to get you out dating soon. You’re too fabulous to stay single, Georgie Basset. But seriously, we should get him checked over, right?’
‘Stop flapping,’ she winked. ‘You could always ring the hospital, tell them what happened and ask if it’s tweetable.’
‘Stop it,’ I laughed, batting her shoulder as she started giggling again. I sat up, avoiding eye contact with the Joneses as I rummaged in my bag for my phone, and excused myself to call the hospital for some advice. I was soon reassured to hear that unless he became sick in the next twenty-four hours, he should be fine.
‘I’m home,’ I called.
‘Stay in the hall,’ Miller yelled.
‘Oh no, what did he do?’ I groaned. ‘I’ve had my fill of poo-related disasters today.’
‘What?’ Miller asked as he appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking delectable in a pair of knee-length, dark indigo denim shorts, some flip flops, and a white t-shirt, which showed off his gym-buffed body and bronzed skin. My God, what did this man see in me? I was a hot, sticky mess from the journey home, and had salt stains on my shorts and t-shirt from splashing about in the sea.
‘Don’t ask. Is he ok?’ I looked up at Miller as he put his arms around my waist and dipped his head to leave me breathless with a soft, deep kiss.
‘He’s fine, happy as a … what’s the phrase?’
‘Pig in muck,’ I smiled, wondering if my poo-related day would ever end. ‘So why am I out here in the hall?’
‘I have a surprise for you,’ he grinned, then reached behind him to pull out a dark grey tie.
‘Oooh, hello, Mr. Grey,’ I giggled.
‘What?’
‘Maybe you should read a book now and then instead of playing video games.’
‘Designing and testing,’ he protested.
‘Hmmm, right, boys and their toys.’
‘There has to be some perks to owning a global corporation,’ he smirked, planting a quick kiss on my lips again. ‘Now turn around and do as you’re told.’
‘Yes, sir. You’re so Mr. Grey right now and you have no idea!’
I let him blindfold me, then he spun me around and around until I begged him to stop when I started feeling giddy. I had no idea which way was up, let alone my left from my right or what direction he was gently pushing me in.
‘Ok, there’s a step down here, take my hands,’ he ordered, as I felt him squeeze past to get in front of me. I deduced that we’d gone outside onto the patio from the feel of the late evening sun and breeze on my face, and the solidness under my feet from the hard surface I was walking on. ‘Keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them,’ he warned as he forced me to stop, then positioned me.
He made me jump when he did a shrill wolf-whistle. I twisted my head left and right, trying to see if I could hear anything. It wasn’t my birthday yet, so I was pretty sure there wasn’t a patio full of guests about to shout, “Surprise!” at me and give me an early coronary. ‘Sumo?’ I whispered, as I heard the unmistakable sound of the dog flap in the back door clatter. He was snuffling and grunting so loudly, just like he used to do when Dad got him overexcited. I could just picture his fat little butt wagging from side to side.
‘Stay, boy, just like we practiced all afternoon,’ Miller warned as he pulled the tie off over my head. ‘Ok, open your eyes, baby.’
I did slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the light, and my heart warmed to see Sumo doing exactly what I thought he’d be doing as he stood on the doorstep, with a super-cute red baseball cap on his head and a red and white checked scarf tied around his neck. I hadn’t seen him so excited in years, not even with Miller, not since Dad had died. He started bouncing; his front paws lifting off the ground
and then dropping as he let out a few uncharacteristic barks. Then the tears in my eyes started to form as I heard an unmistakable noise. A sound that took me straight back to my childhood. The rattle of train wheels on a track. I spun around, my hand over my mouth to see Dad’s prized, electrically powered fake steam engine chugging up the garden towards us, Sumo’s carriage hooked on behind it. I shook my head in disbelief, for once words failing me as I turned to watch it curve around the top of the garden, pass the back of the house, then gently draw to a stop opposite Sumo.
‘Oh my God,’ I whispered, tears starting to stream down my face as he climbed onto it and stuck his front paw on the pad that had been designed for him to start it up again. He sat down as the train pulled away to do another circuit, his head held high, his floppy pink tongue hanging from the side of his mouth, with an unmistakable smile on his wrinkled old face. He was the proverbial pig in muck. I hadn’t seen him look so happy in years. ‘How … how did you … Miller!’ I turned and buried my face in his chest as I started to cry properly.
‘Please tell me these are tears of happiness, that I didn’t make a huge mistake, overstep my bounds and upset you?’ he said softly as he held me tightly to him.
‘Happy … tears,’ I sobbed. ‘How … how …’ I gave up, too emotional to form any more words for a while.
‘Let’s just say there are perks to having money, like making skilled craftsmen drop everything to work on your project at a moment’s notice.’ He planted a kiss on the top of my head, then forced me back at arm’s length as he wiped my eyes for me and spun me around. He pulled me back against his chest, his arms around my waist, and I covered his hands with mine as we both watched Sumo surveying his garden from his vantage point as he did a full tour. We both laughed as the train came to a stop at the back door and instead of getting off, my happy boy whacked the starter pad again, letting out a woof of delight.
‘We’ll never get him back in the house,’ I laughed.
‘As long as he’s happy, right?’
‘Right,’ I nodded, tipping my head back to look up at my thoughtful man. ‘And you’ve no idea how happy you’ve just made me, Miller. How can I ever thank you?’
‘I can think of a few ways,’ he grinned with a wink and a wicked twinkle in his eye.
Chapter Eight
Knocking On Heaven’s Door
December
‘DO YOU THINK THAT will be us one day?’ I asked Miller as I sat in his lap in one armchair, Sumo snoring in his, and the Joneses asleep, sitting upright on the sofa, holding hands as Daphne’s head rested on David’s shoulder. It was Christmas Day, or rather Christmas evening. We’d had a huge Christmas dinner, plenty of good conversation, and had then all sat around in front of the fire to watch the latest Bond film. They’d both fallen asleep within minutes of it starting, even after David had complained of indigestion as they’d hobbled through from the kitchen.
‘Do you want that to be us one day?’ he asked, reaching up to cup my face with one hand, his thumb sweeping backwards and forwards across my cheek.
‘Will I scare you if I’m honest with you?’ I held his liquid chocolate gaze, trying to see any flicker of fear, but didn’t spot any.
‘No, I want to know what you’re thinking.’
‘Ok,’ I nodded, swallowing a lump in my throat. We’d been dating, albeit long distance, snatching long weekends here and there between holidays, for a year now. It was a relationship record for both of us. ‘When I think about the future, I imagine myself sitting here with you at Christmas as we watch our children opening their presents in front of the tree, but …’ I hesitated and saw a flicker of a frown grace his face.
‘But?’
‘I’m not sure you see that future, or if you do, it’s a different version of it.’
‘I do see that future, Abbie, but I’d be lying if I said you weren’t right.’
‘You see that picture in New York, don’t you?’ I whispered, breaking his gaze as I looked down at my fingers, knotting them together anxiously.
‘Yes,’ he said quietly, gripping my chin and forcing my head up to hold my disappointed gaze.
‘Where does that leave us?’ I asked, my eyes searching his, hoping he’d have some answers.
‘I don’t know,’ he sighed. ‘You really won’t consider moving over with me, even just to try it for a while?’
‘How can I, Miller? There’s my job for a start, I–’
‘You can be an accountant in New York.’
‘You have different tax laws, rules and regulations. I’d have to retrain,’ I reminded him. ‘And what about Sumo?’
‘We could fly him over.’
‘He’s a British bulldog.’
‘So?’
‘They have snub noses, which means their breathing is already compromised. They’re classed as flight risks, as too high a percentage of them have died in transit.’
‘So we wait until … until …’ Miller broke off and looked over at where my boy was oblivious, sleeping off his turkey and gravy dinner.
‘Until he dies?’ I exclaimed, stiffening up on Miller’s lap. ‘That’s a bit heartless.’
‘That’s unfair, you know how much I love him. I’d never wish for it to happen faster to suit my own purposes, but we both know it’s inevitable. His cancer’s incurable, Abbie. I’m just trying to say that whatever objections you have, there’s an answer. I’m not saying now, I’m saying someday.’
‘And what about them?’ I suggested, tipping my head in our guests’ direction. ‘Or Georgie? They’re as good as family to me. I can’t just leave them, leave the place that’s been my home for as long as I can remember.’
‘So you just expect me to leave mine?’ he bit, full of frustration, as I scowled at him.
‘You spend more time here than I do in America, Miller,’ I reminded him. He’d even purchased a private hanger at the local airport, and his own car, which was left there when he was out of the country. ‘And who is over there to tie you to them?’
‘That’s a low blow,’ he grated, suddenly lifting me up as he stood and firmly set me down.
‘I wasn’t trying to be nasty,’ I replied, softening my tone as I reached for his hand, then winced when he pulled it away.
‘So my best friend moved here, and I don’t have any family in America, but that might change one day.’
‘Not if we can’t agree on where we’re going to live.’
‘I wasn’t talking about us,’ he responded, pulling his grey sweater into position as he stalked across the room and out into the hall. I quickly followed him, checking that our guests were none the wiser to our little disagreement, but David was snoring, in competition with Sumo, and Daphne was still asleep too. How she managed it with that racket going on was beyond me.
‘What was that supposed to mean?’ I asked as I pulled the lounge door behind me.
‘Nothing,’ Miller stated, as he grabbed his long wool coat from the rack and pulled it on.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I need to stretch my legs and clear my head,’ he replied, avoiding looking at me.
‘Let me write a note in case they worry where we are then,’ I suggested.
‘I meant on my own, Abbie.’ He flashed me an apologetic look as I drew in a sharp breath. Was this a fight? Were we having our first fight?
‘Where? For how long? What if you fall over and hurt yourself and I don’t know where to find you?’ I reached out and grabbed his arm as he went for the door handle. ‘Don’t leave like this, please,’ I urged.
‘I’ll be fine, I’ve got my phone.’ He picked up my hand and removed it from his arm, giving it a slight squeeze as he did.
‘Are you coming back?’ I asked, almost choking on the words. The thought that this was it, that we were breaking up over our first disagreement, made my chest hurt. He finally looked at me properly, his serious brown eyes scanning my teary green ones, and he gave me a soft smile, then sighed.
‘Of cou
rse I am. I’m … frustrated, that’s all. I’m finding it harder and harder to say goodbye, Abbie, whatever country I’m doing it in. I don’t want this for us. I don’t know how much longer we can keep doing this long-distance thing. All I know is that I want to keep doing this, us,’ he added gently as he grabbed my face and kissed me hard.
‘I want to keep doing this, us, too,’ I replied, kissing him back forcefully.
‘Then let’s agree to put this conversation on hold, but I still need to clear my head. I won’t be too long.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise,’ he nodded seriously. He dropped his forehead to mine and I closed my eyes, inhaling him. He’d always smelled like Christmas to me, that deep, musky cinnamon scent that was so comforting and homely. ‘See you later,’ he breathed.
He planted a delicate kiss on my nose, then his warmth was replaced by an icy chill as he threw open the front door and stepped out onto a blanket of crisp, white snow. He tucked his hands in his pockets and put his head down as he trudged up to the gate. I stood shivering with my arms around me, waiting for him to look back as he passed through the gate and shut it. But he didn’t. It was like someone had just sucked all of the joy out of Christmas at once.
I felt completely deflated as I shut the front door, then headed straight for my drinks stash in the kitchen and poured myself a glass of whisky. I leaned back against the sink and nursed my drink as I tried to use the warmth of the alcohol to breathe some life back into me.
‘Abbie, is everything ok?’ Daphne’s voice startled me, and I looked up to see her holding the doorframe.
‘I’ve no idea,’ I admitted, my bottom lip wobbling.
‘Pour me one of those, then come and sit down and tell me all about it,’ she ordered as she shuffled into the kitchen and settled herself down on one of the dining room chairs. I sat down and started to tell her my fears that Miller and I wouldn’t be able to work out our differences.
Never the Bride (Dilbury Village #1) Page 13