Sunday's Child (6 page)

Hattie looked concerned, but she didn't argue as he took the pack from her and they slid away.

As they walked, Cal's breathing gradually slowed, but he couldn't stop shaking.

Hattie touched his hand. “You're freezing.”

“It's n-nothing a hot s-shower won't f-fix.”

She nodded. “Are you a lifeguard or something? You knew what to do and did it without thinking. Almost as if it was second nature to you.”

He chuckled. “Not exactly, but I have done lifeguard training.” He managed a whole sentence without stuttering, but didn't imagine it would last. “And like I said, I live by the s-sea, so swimming is kind of an essential thing to know.”

“Good thing you were there.”

He shrugged. “I'm sure s-someone else would have reacted. It's just I got there first. The council r-really needs to get that lifebelt back. It was touch and go as to whether we got pulled by the c-current.”

The cold, wet shirt stuck to his skin, and he shivered hard.

“Are you all right?”

“Just c-cold. Sorry to cut the walk s-short.”

“Don't be silly. I'm just thanking God that you and the little boy are all right. I thought you were going over the weir at one point.”

“Yeah, m-me too.”

By the time they reached the guest house, Cal was frozen and, despite the warmth of the sun, couldn't feel his hands or feet. He shivered continually, his teeth chattering.

Hattie unlocked the door. “Go and run a hot bath. I'll bring up a tray of tea and some warm soup in twenty minutes or so. I'll put your wet things through the washer and drier too. And don't argue. The river isn't the cleanest thing to go swimming in.”

“Thank you.” He headed up the stairs, hoping he'd be able to unlock his room, never mind turn the taps and remove his clothes. In which case he'd stand under the shower fully dressed until the feeling returned to his hands.

He was glad the little boy was all right and grateful the Lord had spared both their lives. He just hoped the incident was over and done with now and no one got wind of it.

 

****

 

Hattie gave him just over twenty minutes before she carried a tray of tea and hot asparagus soup up to his room. She knew it was his favorite because he'd mentioned it at dinner a few nights ago. She balanced the tray on one arm and knocked on the door. Not getting an answer, she let herself in.

The bathroom door was shut and she smiled at the voice raised in song coming from behind it. He really did have the most amazing singing voice. She set the tray on the side with a note asking him to knock on her door when he came down and reminding him to bring his wet clothes as well. She wouldn't have been surprised if he wasn't going to bother.

She returned to the kitchen. Steve's note still leaned against the bread bin. She'd found it there when she got back from the weir.

Hattie, I've gone to help Penny and stay overnight. I'll be back in the morning at some point. Steve.

Short, sweet and to the point. Not to mention taking the biscuit. It left her having to do everything. And, of course, she'd put a roast in the oven to slow cook before leaving for church. It was just like Steve, though. She'd dared to take a couple of hours to herself, and he didn't like it, and this was pay back. Sometimes knowing him so well was a curse.

What do I do, Lord? Do I leave the meat and do cold cuts tomorrow and serve the guests a salad tonight? Or do I prove to him I can manage and just do it?

She pulled over the booking diary and checked ahead. There were two weeks when only two rooms were taken. Cal was right. She needed a break. Steve and Penny could manage those weeks, or find someone else. Two could play at that game. She crossed out the rest of the rooms and picked up the phone to call her aunt.

“Hello?” Her aunt's cheerful voice made her smile.

“Hi, Aunt Laurie, it's Hattie. How are you?”

“Hello, dear, I'm fine. How are you?”

“Been better, rushed off my feet today.”

“I keep telling you, you work too hard. You need more staff than just the three of you at this time of year. Steve takes you for granted.”

Hattie sighed. “Especially today. But I love him anyway.”

“I know you do. Are you still coming to visit in a couple of weeks? I know you weren't going to mention it right off, but this isn't your normal day for a chat either.”

“Steve wants to go away with Penny then—or rather go and help her with Di's kids. Brendan's away on maneuvers and Di's sick. So between that and the new baby, Di needs the help. Penny left on Tuesday. I don't begrudge her going. She's the only one of her siblings who's had chicken pox so Di's need is greater than mine.”

“What about you though? Won't that leave you alone when Steve goes? Or will he get someone in to help this time?”

“I'll just have to manage.” Hattie shrugged. “Anyway…”

“You need a rest. And a holiday, just as much as anyone else.”

“You're the second person to tell me that today.”

“Then take it as the Lord directing you to take time off. When are you coming? Pick a different week—actually two weeks.”

“You know me too well. I have the diary open in front of me. How does the last week of September, and the first week of October sound?”

“That looks wonderful. Can Steve spare you?”

“Probably not, as he insists I'm indispensable.” She sighed. “But it's tough. They have four people booked in those two weeks, and if I can do twenty-three alone, they can manage four between the two of them.”

“Twenty-three? Alone?” Her aunt sounded incredulous. “I know you said Penny is away, but where's Steve today then?”

“We had a disagreement and he took off, same as he always does. The thing is, I wanted to go out for a couple of hours and he didn't approve. And if it sounds like I'm complaining—”

“It's because you are. What did you do? Date a guest or something?” Her aunt's tone was teasing, but she'd unwittingly hit the proverbial nail on its head.

Hattie paused. “It's been a rough week. I haven't stopped for a minute. Steve and I had a fight after church, because someone asked me to go for a walk with him. OK, he's a guest, but I know the rules. It was just a walk. And he ended up jumping in the weir to save a kid's life.”

“Steve did?”

She laughed. “No, the guest. His name's Cal and he's kind of cute for an ex-footballer. But it was just a walk, nothing more. Thing is, Steve knew I was doing a roast, and he up and left me to feed twenty-three anyway. Just to prove a point.”

“Will he be back to help you serve?”

“No. His note said he
might
be back for breakfast. Though if he is, it'll be a miracle. But I'll manage tonight. I'll set it out buffet style. It won't kill them, just once.”

“A buffet roast?”

“Like the carvery. I'll plate the meat, then they do the veggies themselves.”

“Ah, yes, with you now. Anyway, dear, I shall let you get on. I'll see you at the end of September. Don't let anyone stop you from coming. If Steve says something, tell him to take it up with me.”

“I will.” After a few minutes more, Hattie hung up, a smile on her face. Somehow talking to Aunt Laurie always made her feel better. She pulled out the heated hostess trolley and plugged it in to start warming up. This would also cut down on the amount of dishes she had to wash up afterwards.

She busied herself with chopping veggies and making the quick setting jelly for the mandarin tarts. The cream could wait until the last minute before being piped on. She kept half an eye on the time, needing to adjust when she did things to ensure everything was done, but there just wasn't enough time. The doorbell rang just as she finished the tarts. Wiping her hands on her apron she went to answer it.

Cal stood there, tray in his hands and a carrier bag looped around his fingers, looking decidedly warmer than he had. He smiled at her.

She smiled back. “Hey. You look a lot better.”

“I feel it. I thought I'd bring this down for you.”

“Thank you. There was no need though.” She took the tray.

“Well I figured I was coming this way anyway.” He held out the bag. “The wet clothes you insisted on having.”

Hattie set the tray down and took the bag. “Thank you. I'll have them back to you tomorrow if that's OK.”

“Tomorrow's fine, thank you. Something smells good.”

“Thank you. I'm hoping it'll taste good, but I'm running late.”

“That's probably my fault for taking you for that walk.”

“Not at all,” she said honestly. “Steve's gone to see Penny, and I'm trying to do everything by myself.”

Concern flickered in his handsome chocolate eyes. “Can I help? I'm pretty good in the kitchen, if I do say so myself.”

“I can't ask you to do that. You're a guest.”

“You're not asking. I'm offering.”

She thought quickly. She would never be ready by five on her own. By six maybe, but everyone would be expecting the meal at five. “Can you carve?”

“Like a pro.” He grinned.

Hattie swallowed her pride and nodded. “Then, please, some help would be good. I've never been late with a meal yet, and I'm nowhere near ready.”

“Sure. Show me what you need me to do.”

Hattie picked up the tray again and led him into her part of the house, down the short passageway to the kitchen. She set the tea tray down on the side and put the bag on the floor to deal with after dinner. She was aware of his eyes glancing around, taking in the décor and furniture and she was glad the house was clean and tidy.

She checked the oven and pulled out the meat. Then she stabbed the veggies with a knife to see how cooked they were. “I figured self-service for the veg from the heated trolley tonight. I can do dessert same as usual. But there won't be a starter as I don't have time.”

“What were you going to do?”

“Ganoush with ciabatta toast, but I don't have time to make the ganoush now.”

“You have the ciabatta bread already?”

“I made it this morning.”

“What about salad?”

“I have baby tomatoes, but that's it.”

“So make bruschetta.”

She looked at him. Something that simple hadn't occurred to her. “Seriously?”

He grinned. “Why not? I love it. Toast the ciabatta on one side and top with the tomatoes. If you're doing a roast, it's not going to be too heavy either. And it's something you can put on the table before people come in.”

“Sounds like a brilliant idea. Thank you.”

His smile melted her again. She'd knock the evening meal off his bill for this. His lips started moving again and she forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying. “…And as for tea and coffee after the meal? Fill the flasks like you do at breakfast and set them out when you bring dessert through. People can serve themselves when they want that way.”

“You are just full of good ideas tonight. Want a job?”

He laughed. “I'll think about it.” He began carving, neat deft strokes that were far quicker and far better than Steve could do.

She sliced and toasted the bread and added the tomatoes. She didn't know why she'd never thought of this before. Such a simple idea, yet the food looked so pretty, especially with the small sprinkle of herbs on the top. She took them through and looked at Cal in surprise. She thought he was still in the kitchen. “How did you get in here?”

He winked. “Through the door whilst you were busy singing and making the bruschetta. I finished carving and thought I'd lay up in here.” He took the tray. “I'll do this, you go and get the other one.”

“Thank you.” She paused, mortified. “Singing? I was singing?”

“Very nicely as it happened.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks burned. Why would the floor never open up and swallow her whole when she wanted it to? “I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize. I liked listening to you sing. I'll even give you a hand with the dishes afterwards.”

“There's no need.”

“You're on your own, there is every need.” He grinned. “I might even be persuaded to sing along next time.”

She went and got the other tray, not sure what she'd done to deserve someone being this nice to her. And not just any someone either. He really was nothing like the Callum Trant she'd read about on the internet. That Callum seemed to do nothing but wine, women, and party. Almost every picture and article she'd read had him linked to a different woman.

But Cal was the total opposite. Almost as if he was a changed man. Perhaps he was. Maybe God had worked in his life, turning him around completely. She didn't much care for the footballer, but the man who'd given up part of his holiday to help her, the man who'd leapt into the raging water to save a child he didn't know without so much as a second thought…? Now that was a man she could care for.

She went back to the dining room, and Cal took the tray from her, finishing the tables off.

“I can't find my camera. Do you still have it?”

“Yes. I put it in my bag for safe keeping. Come back with me, and I'll give it to you.”

He walked with her. “Thank you. Can I ask a favor?”

“After all your help this afternoon getting dinner ready, you can ask anything.”

He smiled. “Don't tell anyone about this afternoon.”

“About you helping me out in the kitchen?”

“No, I mean about me rescuing that kid. I don't want the press getting wind of it and turning it into something it isn't.”

She tilted her head, confused as she opened the door. “Why ever not? It's something to be proud of.”

“I don't want a fuss made and if word gets out, then people will realize who I am and it'll be splashed all over the papers. The kid and his family don't need that.” He paused. “Besides I've done my fair share of being headline news. It's someone else's turn now.”