The Reluctant Elf (Kindle Single) (9 page)

‘I don’t mind at all. What do you say, Mabel? Do you want to come for a walk with us?’

She’s just come into the dining room with Amanda and Oliver. All three are whispering together.

‘Yes please!’ Mabel says.

‘What about you two?’ Rupert asks. ‘Do you fancy a little walk after breakfast?’

‘I hate walks!’ Amanda shouts. ‘I won’t go and you can’t make me.’

‘Walks are for losers,’ Oliver adds, looking straight at his uncle. ‘That makes you a loser.’

I bet Rupert is really sorry not to have sprung for that holiday to Tanzania.

‘Well then you’ll just have to stay here,’ Prunella says. ‘A walk will do me good. What time will we eat?’

‘I’ll just prepare everything before we go and we can eat around four,’ Danny says.

‘Make it two o’clock,’ she says. ‘I don’t want to eat late.’

Chapter Eleven

What have I gotten myself into? I’m used to parenting a moderately challenging but essentially well-behaved child, not the spawn of Satan. Oliver and Amanda won’t be easy to reason with, and if I lock them in their room they’ll probably chew their way out.

‘Well I’m sure you got some nice presents from Father Christmas,’ although they deserve a lump of coal and smack on the arse. ‘Why don’t you play with those?’

‘I’m bored!’

‘Me too.’

‘Great, then you can come upstairs with me and clean the bathrooms. Shall I get you some rubber gloves?’

They run together into the parlour.

Sometimes reverse psychology does work.

I go into Prunella’s room first. It’s a tip. There are towels strewn all over the bed and the duvet has been pulled on to the floor. I wonder if that’s where she makes Hugo sleep, in a little nest at the foot of the bed.

One end of the rug is coated in talcum powder and there are ring marks on the side tables where they haven’t bothered to use the coasters. It’s probably good that they usually go away for expensive holidays. At least then the hotel owners can use some of the money to fix what they’ve ruined during their stay.

I tidy up as best as I can, take a deep breath and move on to Rupert’s room. Lord only knows what I’ll find there.

But it doesn’t even look like he’s staying in the room. The bed is perfectly made. There isn’t one personal item in sight. Does he levitate over the mattress, or sleep in the wardrobe, perhaps hanging upside down from the clothes rail?

The only clue that he’s been there is that the bed is much more precisely made than I managed yesterday. Hats off to Rupert. He wins my vote for guest of the year.

The duvets are also pulled over the mattresses in the twins’ room, but I know by their shoddy arrangement that Rupert wasn’t the chambermaid here.

They may have the manners of the girls at St Trinian’s but at least the twins tried to make their beds, as haphazard as the effort is.

Smiling to myself, I whip back the first duvet to straighten it.

That’s when the odour hits me.

This is a cover-up. Literally.

I smell bed-wetters.

Mabel went through a short phase after my parents died where nightly accidents became an issue, but luckily she stopped as suddenly as she started and we haven’t had to worry about it since.

I should be furious about Aunt Kate’s wee-stained mattresses, but my heart goes out to the twins. They didn’t do it on purpose.

Unlike the cat.

I find their sodden pyjamas balled up under one of the beds. I can wash and dry them and get them back to their room in time for bed, but the mattresses need cleaning.

After a lot of scrubbing, I’m just drying the second mattress with my hairdryer when I hear everyone coming back. They sound like they’re in high spirits.

‘Did you all have a good time?’ I ask, watching Danny’s expression for signs of a struggle.

‘It was very nice,’ he says. ‘Look what Mabel found.’

She holds out a long feather. ‘It’s a peasant feather!’

‘It’s beautiful,’ I say. ‘I think you mean pheasant.’

She looks at Danny for confirmation. ‘Pheasant,’ she says. ‘And we saw a live one too in the field.’

‘I’m glad you had fun, but I’m glad you’re back too. I missed you.’ I hug her close.

‘I’ll just put lunch on,’ Danny says.

‘And how about some of that cocktail too?’ Hugo asks. ‘After all, it is a holiday, and nearly past noon. How were the children?’

‘Oh, they were fine. I hardly even noticed them here,’ I say.

‘Where are they?’

I look around. That’s a good question.

‘They’re off playing,’ I say. ‘Would you like a cup of tea to warm up? The parlour is toasty with the fire going.’

Once I get the adults safely into the parlour, I go looking for the children that I’ve carelessly misplaced.

‘Oliver, Amanda!’ I whisper.

Upstairs I check behind all the curtains and under the beds.

‘Are you playing hide and seek?’

I look in each cabinet and closet.

‘Where are you, you little brats?!’

I get back downstairs to the kitchen just in time to see Danny cutting up the last bit of beef.

‘What are you doing?!’

There’s a huge mound of cubed beef on the chopping board.

‘Just getting the meat ready for the stew. What are you doing?’

‘I’m trying to find those damn children. Do you realise you’ve just cut up a Chateaubriand?’

‘Are you speaking English?’

‘It’s supposed to be cooked whole and sliced at the table for everyone. Not used for stewing beef.’

That meat cost me nearly sixty quid. I glare at him. ‘You don’t really know how to cook, do you?’

‘I thought that would have been obvious yesterday.’

‘Then why accept a job cooking?’ I say, flinging open each of the cabinets, just in case there’s a child wedged in there.

‘You know why,’ he mutters. ‘And you would have done exactly the same thing.’

He’s right. Of course he’s right. If Mabel lived on the other side of the world, I’d do anything to see her.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘It’s not like I could cook any of these ingredients either. I’ve just eaten out at nice restaurants in London so I thought a few fancy meals would impress Rupert. I am really sorry.’

Suddenly it’s very important for him to say it’s okay, that he forgives me.

‘Lottie, I live on fry-ups and takeaways. If it’s not Chinese, Indian or fish and chips, I haven’t had much experience with it. So I’m sorry. I should have told you I couldn’t cook.’

‘Do you really know how to make a stew, or was this another salmon-in-salmon Danny special?’

He flinches. ‘I think Mum used to put a bunch of meat and veg into a pot of water and boil it for a few hours. That should work, right?’

‘Like I would know! I’ve never even seen stew made, so you’re ahead of me. While I go look for the twins, see if you can get a recipe off the internet.’

The twins aren’t in the fridge either.

It’s time to panic.

I return to the parlour where everyone is in the same position as yesterday. How quickly we find our routines, even when away.

‘It is a lovely day,’ I say, walking to each of the windows and pulling back the curtains.

No twins fall out.

‘Would anyone like another board game? We have lots here.’

I fling open the cabinet at the side of the bookshelves. No children.

‘Hugo, see if the twins are hungry,’ says Prunella. ‘If they are, the cook can make them lunch early.’

Hugo rises, draining his glass. ‘Lottie, are the twins in the conservatory?’

‘Um, they must be.’

I hurry after him.

Of course they’ll be in the conservatory.  It’s the sunniest room in the house and it’s probably where Mingus is trying to snatch some peace and quiet. Since he’s making it his goal to leave his fur on all the soft furnishings he wouldn’t want to miss out the sofas there.

I’m right about Mingus at least.

‘Hmm, where are they? Lottie?’

I look all around, as if he’s overlooked his own children.

‘I’m afraid I don’t exactly know.’

His eyes widen. ‘You don’t know? You don’t know where my children are? They could be anywhere in the house?’ His voice rises. ‘Anywhere in the wood, for that matter? Or playing beside the road? Prunella!’ he bellows.

Rupert strides into the conservatory a minute later. ‘Must you shout, Hugo? What is it?’

‘She’s lost the children.’

Rupert looks confused. ‘Lost them?’

‘I haven’t exactly lost them, Rupert. I just don’t have them to hand at this moment. I think they’re hiding. They have to be here somewhere.’

That sends them both off shouting for Oliver and Amanda. Through every room they stomp, with me following meekly behind. By the time we get back to the parlour, I’m nearly as panicked as they are.

Prunella hasn’t left the sofa. ‘They must be here somewhere, Hugo. You know how they like to hide.’

‘Prunella, you’re worse than a cat when it comes to those children. Could you please at least try to care that your offspring have disappeared? God, they might have been snatched. Were all the doors locked?’ he asks me.

‘I – I don’t-’

Mabel has been watching this exchange with interest.

‘They’re probably in the dungeon,’ she says.

‘What dungeon, sugarpea?’

‘Downstairs. I don’t like it down there. I think there are spiders.’

Her words send us all scrambling for the back stairs. We can hear the twins as soon as I open the door.

‘Where’s the light?’ Hugo asks. ‘I’m coming, darlings, I’m coming!’

Amanda and Oliver rush through the coal cellar door as soon as I open it. Their faces are black with ancient coal dust except for teary streaks down their cheeks.

‘We got locked in!’ Amanda says, hugging her dad.

‘It’s pitch black in there, and cold,’ adds Oliver. ‘I thought the cat might be hiding in there.’

Rupert flicks the old-fashioned iron door latch up and down. ‘You really should padlock it,’ he says. ‘It latches shut whenever the door is pulled closed.’

‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t think the children would go in there. I’ll have Danny put a lock on it so it doesn’t happen again. Oliver, Amanda, why don’t we go upstairs by the fire so you can warm up? I’ll draw your baths.’

The idea of bathing is clearly more upsetting than being locked in the coal cellar could ever be. Amanda’s lip quivers.

‘If you give me their clothes when they’ve changed,’ I say to Hugo, ‘I’ll wash and dry them for you. Again, I really am sorry.’

I can feel Aunt Kate’s rating slipping further from my grasp.

Chapter Twelve

‘The important thing is that you found them, Mummy,’ Mabel says, snuggling closer on our bed. ‘So you don’t have to be upset any more. There was no harm done.’

I wish that were true. What reviewer in his right mind would award a good rating to a B&B who’s locked his relatives in the coal cellar? He’ll have to flunk us on health and safety grounds alone.

Once we got the twins in to their baths, I needed a few minutes to myself. I had just enough time for a minor breakdown before lunch.

Unfortunately Mabel caught me in the act.

I don’t like her to see me upset. When Mum and Dad died I didn’t have much choice. I broke down in floods of tears at the least provocation. After that experience I tended to prioritise my upsets. If it’s not a matter of life or death I try very hard not to cry.

This isn’t life or death, but it is Aunt Kate’s livelihood.

‘Everything will be fine, I’m sure.’ I sniff and straighten my dress. ‘Shall we go downstairs and see if we can help Danny?’

‘All right, but first I want to tell you something.’

‘What is it?’

‘I’m proud of you, Mummy. You’ve done your best and that’s all we can hope for. If you’ve done your best then you should hold your head up high.’

Out of the mouths of babes… I’ve told her that countless times. It’s so nice to have some good words thrown back at me for a change.

‘Thank you. I’m proud of us all. Remember what the house looked like when we arrived? Now look at it. Aunt Kate will be proud of us too. We’ll serve Rupert and his family their Christmas dinner and see them on their way tomorrow.’

‘I’ll be glad to see the back of them,’ she says. ‘They’re eating us out of house and home.’

That’s Celine’s favourite expression. At least I’m not the only one on Mabel’s greatest hits list.

I send her into the kitchen to see how Danny is getting on so that I can set the table for lunch. With a few pine boughs woven between the candles and the sparkling glasses and silverware, it looks quite festive by the time I’m finished. I just need the Christmas crackers.

There are about a hundred in the cabinet under the stairs in the hall, but I have to crawl in to get them.

‘Do you need a hand?’

Hugo stands behind me, making me very aware that my head is in the cabinet and my arse is in the hall.

‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’

‘You look fine from here.’

I back out, shuffling the boxes of crackers as I go. ‘How are Amanda and Oliver? Happy again?’

Reminding him that he’s fathered two children with Prunella should dampen his lust.

‘There’s no long-term damage. Here, let me help you with those.’ He takes the boxes from me.

Fine, whatever. ‘Thanks. I’ll just set the table and then we’re nearly ready for…’

He stops in the middle of the hall.

‘Is something wrong?’

I stop too.

He shifts the boxes to one hand and points at the ceiling. ‘Happy Christmas,’ he says.

You’ve got to be kidding me. We’re standing under the mistletoe that Danny hung to add a festive finishing touch for our guests’ first impression. Clearly it’s made an impression on Hugo.

‘I have to finish laying the table,’ I say. ‘I’ll take those. Thanks.’

And I’ll get Danny to take the mistletoe down too. If I had a ladder I’d snatch it from the ceiling there and then.

The beef stew actually smells delicious. It might not win Danny any culinary awards for presentation, and is maybe an odd choice for Christmas lunch, but at least we’ve got something to serve Rupert.