The Present: The must-read Christmas romance of the year!. Charlotte Phillips

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       Chapter 2

      ‘What the hell happened to you?’

      Rod walked into the kitchen on the dot of seven, put his keys in the dish on the dresser, and stopped in the act of kissing Lucy’s cheek when he caught sight of her leg. She glanced down at the supersized sticking plaster she’d used to re-dress the graze on her shin. She’d changed into shorts and a T-shirt after a monumental shower to get rid of all the plaster dust.

      ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ she said. ‘I just scraped it getting some stuff out of Gran’s loft. No biggie.’

      Probably best not to mention the gaping hole in Gran’s bedroom ceiling; she’d had quite enough of making a knob of herself in front of people today. Jack had assured her he would fix it in the next couple of days, and Rod could stay none the wiser.

      She gave the schedule attached by a magnet to the fridge door an unnecessary check as she opened it, because knowing it was Wednesday was enough to know it was stir-fry night. In the same way that Monday was meat-free, and Friday was a takeaway.

      Life ran better when it was organised. If Rod had a personal credo, this would be it. And it was one she wholeheartedly agreed with. There was something extremely reassuring, she had found, about knowing what was happening day to day, and especially longer term. She had known when she met Rod that they were on the same page in that respect. She’d contacted him to see if he would give an interview following the Budget five years ago: his accountancy firm’s take on the effects for local people, that kind of thing. He’d provided her with a projected schedule of costings, a comprehensive overview, and a list of tips for savers that would have got the nod from Martin Lewis. And an offer of dinner that turned into a series of dates that turned into a relationship. His private life was as ordered and planned as his work had been. And she always knew where she was with him. With Rod she had a future that she could count on. He would never disappear on impulse because he fancied a change of scenery.

      ‘Coming along well at the house, then?’ he said, leaning past her to turn on the extractor hood above the cooker. All mod cons in their new-build rental, nothing like Gran’s inefficient rambling dinosaur of a place. Steam began to curl up from the wok as she added chicken and vegetables to the pan. ‘Good to hear. I called the agent, and if we can get it shipshape we can have the valuation done and it can go on the market as soon as Christmas is out of the way.’

      Her stomach gave an involuntary lurch at the thought. What would it feel like to know she was never going to see the old place again? What would it feel like for Gran? She couldn’t expect Rod to feel sentimental. He hadn’t lived there. He hadn’t built dens out of blankets and sticks in the garden in summer. He hadn’t learned to make fairy cakes in the kitchen, which was always warm, no matter what time of the year because of the range cooker. The thought must have shown on her face because Rod put an arm around her shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

      ‘We’ve been over this again and again,’ he said gently.

      She moved away from him and grabbed a couple of plates from one of the neat cupboards.

      ‘I know,’ she said through gritted teeth. She served the stir-fry up grimly.

      ‘It’s the upheaval,’ he went on soothingly. ‘It’s bound to be unsettling. That’s why we need to really consider all the options.’

      She knew where this was going.

      ‘Really, I think a residential facility might be the best possible thing all round.’

      He tucked into his rice and chicken, not looking at her while he ate. Just the terminology he used made it sound like a prison.

      ‘I am not putting Gran in a home,’ she said. ‘I want her with me.’

      ‘I’m just saying, let’s not rule anything out. You don’t know yet what her recovery is going to be like. Moving in with us, into established routines … it’s bound to be difficult for everyone. I’m only saying, it might be better all round, to leave the care to the professionals.’

      Correctly anticipating her next comment would be argumentative, he reached distractingly for the box at the end of the table and pulled it towards him.

      ‘What’s this?’ he asked.

      ‘I found them in Gran’s attic,’ Lucy said. ‘I brought them home to show you.’

      He lifted the lid of the box and took out one of the wrapped decorations at random. A perfectly carved and painted top hat. Ten lords a-leaping, she thought automatically.

      ‘Nice,’ he said indifferently, putting it back and resuming eating.

      ‘It’s a set of Christmas tree decorations. I think they might be antique.’

      ‘One missing,’ he remarked, pointing to the space in the middle of the box with a chopstick. ‘Incomplete set, so it won’t be worth much. Honestly, Lucy, just whack all this tat on eBay. Whatever you get for it will be a bonus, the main thing is to crack on and get the place cleared. We need to get the house ready for the family. This is the first year we’ve done the Carmichael Christmas, and СКАЧАТЬ