The Christmas Surprise
Page 42
‘Heil!’ said Stephen.
‘Shut up!’ hissed Rosie. The last thing she needed was Joy walking in on a domestic.
‘Jawohl, mein Führer,’ said Stephen, and Rosie gave him the feud eyes, but it didn’t seem to make any difference at all. Stephen picked up Apostil defensively whilst Rosie strode over and opened the door.
To her surprise, it wasn’t Joy standing there, clipboard at the ready, but Pamela, who, on seeing Rosie, immediately burst into noisy tears.
Chapter Thirteen
‘What’s up?’ said Rosie, ushering her into the cosy sitting room.
Pamela sat down.
‘Can I smoke in here?’
‘No!’ said Rosie.
Pamela looked straight at the fire.
‘That fire is smoking.’
‘Well it’s not choking the baby.’
‘You think?’
‘You can go out the back door!’ said Stephen.
‘Oh, thanks. Family!’
‘Would you like a drink?’ said Rosie tactfully, glancing over to Lilian’s drinks cupboard.
‘Yes. Can I have a martini?’
‘Not sure,’ said Rosie. ‘Is that the one with gin and stuff?’
Stephen marched over.
‘I’ll do it.’
Pamela nodded gratefully and took the outstretched glass, complete with maraschino cherry. Lilian was never without them.
‘What’s up, sis?’ Stephen said, standing with his bad leg nearest the fire, Rosie noticed. The long spells of cold weather did it no good.
‘Oh GOD, our FRICKING mother.’
Rosie and Stephen glanced at one another. Had Henrietta changed her mind?
‘What’s up now?’
‘Oh GOD. Heritage tours this. Roof repairs that. She never stops banging on.’
Stephen nodded sagely.
‘Quite.’
‘I’m a banker, for God’s sake. Why do I want to talk to some dweeb from the National Trust?’ She took a large gulp of her drink. ‘Oh GOD, it’s just so TEDIOUS.’
Rosie covered up the pile of estate agents’ listings she’d received. The brochures did their best, but there was only so much you could do with tired patterned carpets, aubergine bathrooms, and tiny scrubby back gardens pressed up against one another in long rows. She blinked and crossed her fingers. Maybe Pamela was going to go back to the US and give up on all this nonsense.
‘I’ve made a decision,’ Pamela said.
Rosie and Stephen moved imperceptibly closer together.
‘I’m just going to ignore all her advice. And the so-called historical experts. I’m just going to do it my way. Make Peak House fabulous, worry about the rest of it later. It’s peaceful up there. I like it.’
‘So,’ said Rosie, refreshing Pamela’s drink. She tried to keep her tone conversational. ‘Not heading back to New York?’
‘You know,’ said Pamela, swirling her drink, ‘I am totally going to stay a while. Work online for a bit. Calm down. Get in touch with my family.’
‘Fired,’ said Stephen quietly. Pamela rolled her eyes.
‘Everyone gets fired, darling,’ she said. ‘You’re nothing if you haven’t been fired. Fucking regulators.’
‘Don’t swear in front of the baby!’ said Rosie.
‘But he’s a fucking baby.’
Stephen gave Pamela a filthy look until she backed down and apologised. She stayed for another half an hour, talking about how she had all these decent interior designers coming up from London to sort out ‘that freezing shithole’. She seemed not to notice how quiet Rosie and Stephen were. Rosie went off and gave Apostil his bath and put him to bed, a little fan heater – which was doing nothing for their power bill – blowing hard in his bedroom, keeping the temperature above arctic. But only just.
‘Well,’ said Stephen, sitting down heavily in the armchair by the fire, as Rosie finished taking the dishes into the kitchen. ‘WELL.’
Rosie came back and sat on his lap – the good side. She kissed him on the side of the head.
‘What’s that for?’ he asked, stroking her hair, pleased.
‘For not being like your sister,’ she said.
‘Poor old Pam,’ said Stephen. ‘But she always felt pushed out … because she wasn’t the boy.’
‘You’re the one they sent away to school.’
‘Oh, they sent us both away,’ said Stephen. ‘I swear my parents were the kindest dog breeders you can possibly imagine. And they ran the nicest, cleanest, most loving stables in three counties. I just do not know what on earth they thought they were doing when the time came for them to have children.’
Rosie shook her head.
‘Well, you turned out all right.’
‘And you, dear girl,’ said Stephen, kissing her, ‘are just about the only person on earth who thinks that.’
‘Lilian likes you.’
‘She does, but I wouldn’t say she’s blind to my flaws, or anybody else’s come to that.’
‘She wants us to sell the house. And keep some of the money.’
‘No,’ said Stephen, his eyes flying open. ‘No she doesn’t. Not her lovely cottage.’
‘She was insistent. Said it’s only stuff.’
Stephen shook his head.
‘What are we going to do?’
Rosie looked down. ‘Well, we could …’
‘What?’
‘Well, I mean … if we were going to be spending a lot of time at the hospital … and houses are much cheaper there. I mean, much.’
‘Move to the city?’ said Stephen, looking horrified. ‘Seriously? Move into a smoky, cramped city?’
‘Bits of it are lovely,’ said Rosie loyally. She came from a city, she wasn’t quite as anti the idea as everyone else out here.
Stephen stared straight ahead, as if imagining a different life.
‘Maybe a cute little terrace?’ said Rosie. ‘Near the hospital.’
Stephen’s jaw looked stiff.
‘Oh yes, that unavoidable place where we’re so desperate to shove Apostil to get chopped up.’
‘We can talk about it later,’ said Rosie, anxious not to wind him up. It had been a stressful day all round. There was time to decide. They had a lot of adjustments to make; all of them, basically.
‘Shut up!’ hissed Rosie. The last thing she needed was Joy walking in on a domestic.
‘Jawohl, mein Führer,’ said Stephen, and Rosie gave him the feud eyes, but it didn’t seem to make any difference at all. Stephen picked up Apostil defensively whilst Rosie strode over and opened the door.
To her surprise, it wasn’t Joy standing there, clipboard at the ready, but Pamela, who, on seeing Rosie, immediately burst into noisy tears.
Chapter Thirteen
‘What’s up?’ said Rosie, ushering her into the cosy sitting room.
Pamela sat down.
‘Can I smoke in here?’
‘No!’ said Rosie.
Pamela looked straight at the fire.
‘That fire is smoking.’
‘Well it’s not choking the baby.’
‘You think?’
‘You can go out the back door!’ said Stephen.
‘Oh, thanks. Family!’
‘Would you like a drink?’ said Rosie tactfully, glancing over to Lilian’s drinks cupboard.
‘Yes. Can I have a martini?’
‘Not sure,’ said Rosie. ‘Is that the one with gin and stuff?’
Stephen marched over.
‘I’ll do it.’
Pamela nodded gratefully and took the outstretched glass, complete with maraschino cherry. Lilian was never without them.
‘What’s up, sis?’ Stephen said, standing with his bad leg nearest the fire, Rosie noticed. The long spells of cold weather did it no good.
‘Oh GOD, our FRICKING mother.’
Rosie and Stephen glanced at one another. Had Henrietta changed her mind?
‘What’s up now?’
‘Oh GOD. Heritage tours this. Roof repairs that. She never stops banging on.’
Stephen nodded sagely.
‘Quite.’
‘I’m a banker, for God’s sake. Why do I want to talk to some dweeb from the National Trust?’ She took a large gulp of her drink. ‘Oh GOD, it’s just so TEDIOUS.’
Rosie covered up the pile of estate agents’ listings she’d received. The brochures did their best, but there was only so much you could do with tired patterned carpets, aubergine bathrooms, and tiny scrubby back gardens pressed up against one another in long rows. She blinked and crossed her fingers. Maybe Pamela was going to go back to the US and give up on all this nonsense.
‘I’ve made a decision,’ Pamela said.
Rosie and Stephen moved imperceptibly closer together.
‘I’m just going to ignore all her advice. And the so-called historical experts. I’m just going to do it my way. Make Peak House fabulous, worry about the rest of it later. It’s peaceful up there. I like it.’
‘So,’ said Rosie, refreshing Pamela’s drink. She tried to keep her tone conversational. ‘Not heading back to New York?’
‘You know,’ said Pamela, swirling her drink, ‘I am totally going to stay a while. Work online for a bit. Calm down. Get in touch with my family.’
‘Fired,’ said Stephen quietly. Pamela rolled her eyes.
‘Everyone gets fired, darling,’ she said. ‘You’re nothing if you haven’t been fired. Fucking regulators.’
‘Don’t swear in front of the baby!’ said Rosie.
‘But he’s a fucking baby.’
Stephen gave Pamela a filthy look until she backed down and apologised. She stayed for another half an hour, talking about how she had all these decent interior designers coming up from London to sort out ‘that freezing shithole’. She seemed not to notice how quiet Rosie and Stephen were. Rosie went off and gave Apostil his bath and put him to bed, a little fan heater – which was doing nothing for their power bill – blowing hard in his bedroom, keeping the temperature above arctic. But only just.
‘Well,’ said Stephen, sitting down heavily in the armchair by the fire, as Rosie finished taking the dishes into the kitchen. ‘WELL.’
Rosie came back and sat on his lap – the good side. She kissed him on the side of the head.
‘What’s that for?’ he asked, stroking her hair, pleased.
‘For not being like your sister,’ she said.
‘Poor old Pam,’ said Stephen. ‘But she always felt pushed out … because she wasn’t the boy.’
‘You’re the one they sent away to school.’
‘Oh, they sent us both away,’ said Stephen. ‘I swear my parents were the kindest dog breeders you can possibly imagine. And they ran the nicest, cleanest, most loving stables in three counties. I just do not know what on earth they thought they were doing when the time came for them to have children.’
Rosie shook her head.
‘Well, you turned out all right.’
‘And you, dear girl,’ said Stephen, kissing her, ‘are just about the only person on earth who thinks that.’
‘Lilian likes you.’
‘She does, but I wouldn’t say she’s blind to my flaws, or anybody else’s come to that.’
‘She wants us to sell the house. And keep some of the money.’
‘No,’ said Stephen, his eyes flying open. ‘No she doesn’t. Not her lovely cottage.’
‘She was insistent. Said it’s only stuff.’
Stephen shook his head.
‘What are we going to do?’
Rosie looked down. ‘Well, we could …’
‘What?’
‘Well, I mean … if we were going to be spending a lot of time at the hospital … and houses are much cheaper there. I mean, much.’
‘Move to the city?’ said Stephen, looking horrified. ‘Seriously? Move into a smoky, cramped city?’
‘Bits of it are lovely,’ said Rosie loyally. She came from a city, she wasn’t quite as anti the idea as everyone else out here.
Stephen stared straight ahead, as if imagining a different life.
‘Maybe a cute little terrace?’ said Rosie. ‘Near the hospital.’
Stephen’s jaw looked stiff.
‘Oh yes, that unavoidable place where we’re so desperate to shove Apostil to get chopped up.’
‘We can talk about it later,’ said Rosie, anxious not to wind him up. It had been a stressful day all round. There was time to decide. They had a lot of adjustments to make; all of them, basically.
