Carole Singer's Christmas (5 page)

Carole grimaced. ‘How on earth can you tell that? It’s still pitch black out there. Don’t tell me. You have a feeling for such things. It’s in your blood or something.’ She grabbed the mug of coffee and took several large gulps. It was delicious she grudgingly admitted to herself.

He turned to her and chuckled. A deep, throaty, sexy sound that warmed Carole far more than the coffee did.

‘No. I heard the weather forecast on the radio on my way over here. Dry, cold and sunny although there’s a possibility of snow showers this evening. Perfect late November weather I’d say.’

‘Hmm! If you like snow I suppose and not being able to get anywhere because the roads haven’t been gritted properly. That’s certainly not my idea of perfect weather.’

‘I love snow, although I’ll admit it may hold up deliveries but it doesn’t stop me from getting where I want to go. Have Land Rover, will travel, or whatever the saying is. You’re welcome to come for a walk with Nicodemus and me if you like.’

‘Thank you but no. I make it a rule never to go out until the streets are properly aired and I can actually see where I’m going. As it doesn’t get light until about eight a.m. at this time of year, I’m not venturing out before nine.’

The grin broadened. ‘It’s only twenty minutes until dawn but I accept it’s not sunrise for another two hours so okay, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be back in about an hour. Will you be up by then?’

‘No.’

‘You’re not a morning person are you?’

‘No.’

Their eyes met and the gleam in his made her stomach feel as if it wanted to do a little pirouette. She wondered what he was thinking but she dared not ask. From what little she knew of him so far, he’d probably tell her, and she might not like what she heard.

‘Okay, I’ll see you later,’ he said. ‘By the way, I’ve fed Arten and I’ve brought some eggs and a jar of honey. They’re on the kitchen table. I’ll nip into Cindy’s Bakery on the way back and pick up a fresh loaf.’

‘Don’t tell me the local shops are open at this ungodly hour? Or did you drive all the way to Tesco?’

He looked at her as if she were mad. Cindy’s Bakery opens at six which is why I’ll go there on my way back, but the eggs are from my hens and the honey, from my bees.’

‘You ... you keep hens and bees?’ This man was like no other she had ever met and she wondered how many more little surprises he had up his sleeve.

‘Why is that so surprising?’ he asked.

‘Oh. Er ... no reason I suppose. I ... I’ve just never met a man who keeps hens and bees before, that’s all.’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it’s a heady combination.’

She glowered at him. ‘There’s no need to make fun of me. I live in London remember, and, well, beekeepers and henkeepers are not something you see on the Tube.’

‘How can you tell? You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover you know. Lots of people are diversifying and keeping livestock or growing their own produce. Just because a person wears a suit to the office, it doesn’t mean they aren’t mucking out a pig pen in their garden when they get home.’

Carole shuddered at the thought of it.

‘I take it you have an aversion to pigs, by the face you’re pulling.’

Her head shot up and her eyes met his.

‘No. Pigs are fine – at a distance of course. It’s mud I have a problem with. Or dirt of any kind, come to that.’

The grin disappeared to be replaced by a questioning frown. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘You’re not going to enjoy helping out in the garden centre very much then, are you? I must dash. See you later. There’s more coffee in the pot downstairs.’ With a final brief smile, he pulled the door to.

‘Thank you ... I think,’ Carole said, letting her head flop back against the pillow. It shot back up again as if she had suffered whiplash. ‘What do you mean, helping out in the garden centre?’ she yelled after him.

He didn’t answer. All she heard was him calling out goodbye to her gran and the sound of his walking boots as they hit a few of the stairs which he was clearly bounding down.

What on earth had he meant by that, she wondered and where the hell did the man get his energy from? Her mind started to wander in a very unwelcome direction and she tutted at her own waywardness.

Assuming he was just being sarcastic with his remark about the garden centre and her helping out there, she savoured the final mouthfuls of coffee as she heard the front door close. She’d get up in a minute and go and see her gran she told herself, but she needed a few seconds to get her head together. What was it about this guy that made her feel so ... so ... uncomfortable?

And why had her gran apparently given him the run of the house? She couldn’t stay in bed she decided; she had to go and see her gran and find out exactly what was going on.

***

‘Hello Gran!’ Carole said, dashing to her gran’s bedside and hugging her tightly. ‘What on earth happened to you and why didn’t you tell me when you called yesterday? In fact, why didn’t you call me as soon as it happened?’

Mitsy kissed the top of Carole’s bent head and ruffled her long mop of titian waves.

‘I didn’t want to worry you, sweetheart. I knew if I told you, you’d jump in your car and rush down and I know how busy you are so–’

‘Gran! I’m never too busy to come to you when you need me. Please don’t ever think that again. I know I don’t come and see you as often as I should and I’m really sorry for that. I just don’t know where the time goes these days.’

‘I know, dear and it gets worse as we get older. Never mind that though. I’m fine, and Nick took really good care of me so there wasn’t any need to trouble you. I told him I could cope on my own and that I could sleep downstairs on the sofa bed in the study but he wouldn’t hear of it. I said that you were coming down at the weekend and I’d be fine but I knew he wasn’t happy. I didn’t know he’d called you though and I gave him a telling off for that but he means well so I can’t be cross with him. Besides, it is lovely to see you, sweetheart.’

Carole couldn’t imagine anyone telling Nick off, least of all her petite grandmother. She struggled to picture how he would have reacted to that – and failed.

‘It’s lovely to see you too, Gran. Are you sure you’re okay? Are you in pain? Can I get you anything?’

‘No, I’m fine. Honestly. I can’t feel a thing and Nick’s been giving me some of his home-made remedy. He swears I’ll be up on my pins and dancing around the sitting room with him before I know it.’

‘Dancing around ...! Just how well do you know this Nick, Gran? I mean, are you sure it’s wise to let him have a key to your house? He gave me quite a start this morning when he brought me up a cup of coffee.’

Mitsy chuckled and patted Carole’s hand. ‘Coffee can be very scary dear, although not the way Nick makes it. His is heavenly, but then so many things about him are.’

‘Gran, I’m serious! He behaves as if he owns the place.’

‘Nonsense, Carole. He’s a godsend. I don’t know how I would have coped without his help these last few months and ... well never mind that. I think you’ve got entirely the wrong impression about him – and his intentions. You’ll soon see he’s one of the nicest, kindest men you’re ever likely to meet. Good heavens, as you say, he even brought you a cup of coffee in bed this morning! How many men do you know who would do that?’

Carole thought about it. She couldn’t remember the last time Dominic had although she’d taken him coffee in bed hundreds of times. Actually, she now realised he never had, but he worked long hours in his office in the City as a lawyer so he needed his sleep. She worked from home and, as he often told her, she could take a nap whenever she needed to. That sounded oddly patronising now that she mulled it over.

Neither had Sebastian, but they hadn’t lived together or ever been in a situation where he could have done so. During the four years they were dating, he lived in the village with his parents, and Carole, at that time, lived in the village with her gran. Other than the few times they went away on holiday together, they were never in the same house in the morning. And, unlike Nick, Sebastian was never given a key.

‘Lots of men do that, Gran. Coffee in bed is nothing special,’ she said in what even she recognised as a feeble attempt to downplay Nick’s apparent charms. ‘You didn’t answer the question though. How well do you really know him and why does he have a key?’

Mitsy sighed as if the weight of the world were on her tiny shoulders. Shoulders that, Carole was only now noticing, seemed even smaller and rather more fragile than they had the last time she’d seen them. A sudden horrifying thought crept into her mind.

‘Gran,’ she said, almost too scared to ask, ‘are you unwell? Other than the broken leg, I mean. And how did you break your leg anyway?’

Carole watched as a faraway look crept into her gran’s pale blue eyes.

Mitsy sighed again. ‘I’m not as young as I used to be, sweetheart. Nothing works as well as I expect it to. I’m not ill but ... well, I did go through a rather bad patch, health-wise recently and my eyesight’s not what it was and ... I do silly things every once in a while. I ... I have little accidents. The last three months have been particularly bad and if it hadn’t been for Nick ...’ Her voice trailed off on yet another sigh.

A dreadful, somewhat terrifying and bizarrely random idea popped into Carole’s head from nowhere. She had thought this Nick seemed too good to be true – and perhaps he was. Not many men of his age – and looks – would spend their time with a woman old enough to be their grandmother unless they were either a relation, a saint or they could get something out of it.

She had often read about people who took advantage of vulnerable old ladies and ... hurt them, both physically and emotionally. Could it be possible that Nick was doing this to her gran? Victims of that kind of abuse were always too scared to speak out against their abusers and often gave the impression that the abusers were holier than thou and the victims were the ones in the wrong. Was that why her gran seemed so ... unsure of herself, so nervous?

She took Mitsy’s hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. ‘Gran,’ she said as gently but firmly as she could, ‘I’m here now and I’m going to be staying for the foreseeable future. If ... if there’s anything you want to tell me, anything that is worrying you or anyone who is frightening you in any way, you can tell me and I’ll deal with it. If ... if someone is forcing you to hand over money or something. I’ll make sure you’re safe, I promise you. No one will ever be able to hurt you again. Not Nick or anyone else.’

She saw the confused and startled look in Mitsy’s eyes and the subsequent look of horror as Mitsy glanced towards the door.

Carole turned swiftly and a mixture of fear and anger took hold as she saw Nick, standing in the doorway, a murderous expression in his dark eyes and his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles in his now ruddy face seemed about to burst out from under his skin.

Carole jumped up from the edge of the bed but still held one of her gran’s hands.

‘How dare you just barge in here without knocking!’ she yelled, attack being the best form of defence in her opinion.

‘Carole!’ Mitsy shrieked. ‘No!’

Nick’s eyes travelled the length of Carole’s body and the corners of his mouth curled in obvious contempt.

‘I think,’ he said, his voice cold and hard with clearly suppressed fury, ‘you’ve been watching too much television. If you’re actually suggesting that I broke your grandmother’s leg or have hurt her in any way to get money from her, let me assure you, you’re very much mistaken. I have no idea what can have put such a ludicrous notion into your head. I came back to ask if you wanted anything besides a loaf of bread whilst I’m at the bakery but as my presence seems unwelcome to you, I’ll go. In future, I’ll ring the doorbell when I visit – assuming I’ll still be allowed to visit while you’re here. Mitsy, you know where I am if you need me.’

He turned on his heel and marched from the room and out of the house in a matter of seconds, slamming the front door behind him.

Carole was shaking and she turned to her gran who seemed to be in a stunned state of shock.

Mitsy raised tearful eyes to Carole’s face and in a strangled tone asked, ‘What ... what just happened, Carole? What have you done? How on earth could you possibly think such a thing?’

‘I ... well … he just seems too good to be true and ... and he’s only thirty-something and ... and very good-looking, and ... well, why else would a man like that want to spend so much time with...?’

‘An old woman like me? Is that what you were going to say? I’m shocked, Carole, truly shocked. To even think for one minute that I’d ever let any man control me or physically abuse me and not do something about it is beyond crazy, but to think that Nick had ... had actually hurt me. Stolen from me. That he’d broken my leg! Well! That’s the sort of fanciful notion your mother would get. A real drama queen that one has become, but you! I had thought better of you, my girl.’

‘I’m sorry, Gran! But try to see it from my point of view. I don’t even know that you’ve broken your leg until I get a call from someone I’ve never met telling me to get down here and look after you because he’s too busy, and when I get here, I find he’s got the run of the place and you’re looking like you ... well, less than your usual spritely self.’

Mitsy tutted. ‘Of course, I’m not looking spritely. I’ve got a broken leg! And I’ll admit I have lost a bit of weight over the last few months but I’d have lost a lot more if Nick hadn’t been popping in with little treats for me and making sure I was eating at least one good meal a day. He’s been an absolute wonder and how do you repay him? You accuse him of battering me! What’s more, Carole, if he really
were
some felonious brute with evil intent, why the devil would he have phoned you and asked you to come and stay with me? That’s the last thing he would have wanted. I’m very disappointed in you, Carole. Perhaps it’s partly my fault for not telling you what’s been going on with me and I realise I’ll have to do that, but for now the most important thing is that you go and apologise to Nick. Without delay.’

‘But … Gran!’