The Reluctant Elf (Kindle Single) (7 page)

‘Here we are!’ I say.

The tureens of mash and carrots (also mash) are heavy in my arms.

Then a very nervous-looking Danny comes in with the steaming main course.

‘We’ll leave you to enjoy your lunch but do let us know if you need anything. Would everyone like a drink? There’s also a non-alcoholic cordial for the children.’

‘Where’s the wine?’ Prunella asks.

‘Oh, well, we’ve made a special drink instead, and it’s really delicious.’

‘It’s what the upper classes had at Christmas,’ Danny says as he pours glasses for everyone.

Hugo nods like he knows this already.

‘Thank you,’ says Rupert. ‘We’ll let you know if we need anything.’

I fight the urge to curtsey. It’s the damn dress.

‘Wait a second,’ says Hugo. ‘Is that prosciutto wrapped around the salmon?’

‘No, it’s salmon,’ says Danny, looking at me as if to say
What kind of nutter wraps salmon in prosciutto?

My look glares back: Who the hell wraps salmon in more salmon?

‘Ah, yes, our salmon-in-salmon recipe,’ I say. ‘We’ve researched the menus of the era and were surprised at some of them too, but they’re authentic.’ My face reddens. Surely they don’t believe all this bullshit.

But Hugo is already downing his gin cordial and Prunella has her fingers on her temples. Something tells me she has a lot of bad days.

‘And here’s the gravy!’ Mabel says, setting it on the table.

‘Gravy on salmon?’ Rupert asks, pouring a bit on the side of his plate. ‘Beef?’

‘It’s good on the mash,’ the girl twin, Amanda, says, talking with her mouth full. ‘It tastes like Mother’s.’

‘Bisto?’ I mouth at Danny.

‘And I suppose the carrots are pureed like this because Victorians lost their teeth early,’ Rupert says.

That sounds at least as good as the excuse I’m about to come up with.

‘Hmm, I’m not sure I’ve got a Victorian palate,’ he continues. ‘But I do appreciate the effort. Thank you.’

We rush out before they can ask any more questions.

‘You used all the smoked salmon?’ I hiss to Danny when we’re safely back in the kitchen.

‘You said to cook the salmon.’

‘You don’t
cook
smoked salmon. You eat it as it is. Now what are we supposed to do for their tea tonight?’

‘I wouldn’t eat it as it is. It looked slimy and raw.’

I’m beginning to doubt Danny’s culinary skills, but considering that I’ve made baby food of the veg, I’m not any better.

Upstairs, the tile floor is soaking wet from Prunella’s bath and her towel is in a heap beside the loo. The messy cow.  

As I mop the floor I hope the family won’t want too many baths. I know the twins won’t. They’re the same age as Mabel and she acts like soap and water might kill her. It’s a daily fight to keep her non-infectious.  

We just have time to run to the hospital to see Aunt Kate before we need to prepare tea, so we leave everyone in the parlour with a stack of board games and newspapers. The twins’ fury over the lack of telly is soon forgotten when they catch sight of Mingus. That poor cat.

Danny stays behind to boil the eggs for sandwiches, throwing me his car keys.

‘Just don’t hit anything, please,’ he adds after telling me the trick to coaxing the car out of third gear.

‘How is she?’ I ask Dr Lonergan when she comes in to Aunt Kate’s room. ‘Any better?’

She smiles. ‘Yes, in fact. I want to keep her on the medication for another day or so and then we should be able to reverse the coma.’

‘Can you tell about possible brain damage?’

‘All the tests we’ve run look clear, so that’s a good sign. How are you holding up?’

Her concern threatens to undo me. I don’t have time for a meltdown now. ‘I’m fine. The guests have arrived at the house, so it’s been a little crazy.’

‘But it’s going to be fine, Aunt Kate,’ I say, in case she can hear me. I take her hand. ‘They’re all settled in and they’ve had their lunch. So you don’t have to worry, okay?’

I squeeze her hand, remembering too late that she can’t squeeze back.

We make it back to the B&B without stalling the car. Perhaps if there’s a bit of money left over from Danny’s ticket to America he might think about upgrading it from death trap to load of junk.

The hard-boiled eggs are cooling in a bowl beside the sink. I slice into the first one. Well, I say slice. It’s more of a sawing motion.

‘How long did you boil the eggs?’

‘Not long. Half an hour or so. Are they cooked?’

‘Oh they’re cooked.’ We can use them in defence of the house if necessary. ‘They’re hard as rocks.’

‘Really? I didn’t want to under-cook them.’

‘Mission accomplished.’ Unless the hens have gone into extra production, there aren’t enough for a second batch. ‘Let me think.’

We’ve got to have something to feed everyone with their tea. I haven’t the faintest idea how to bake and, judging by Danny’s efforts so far, neither has he. That leaves sandwiches, but with no smoked salmon and now no eggs, what are we supposed to make?

The bell over the door rings. They must have found the button in the parlour.

‘The Master calls. I’ll be right back. Meanwhile try to think of something we can use for sandwiches.'

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘Is it okay if I run home quickly?’

‘Have you got something at home that we could use?’

He frowns. ‘I’m a bachelor living alone. They won’t want pot noodles.’

‘Right. Wishful thinking. You may as well do whatever you need to do at home. You don’t need to be back here till six. I’ll try to think of something.’

Prunella is prostrate on one of the sofas in front of the fire with her hand over her eyes, while the twins take turns throwing the Yahtzee dice at each other from five paces.

‘Is everything all right?’

‘I have a splitting headache,’ says Prunella. ‘Have you got any tablets?’

‘Sure, I’ll just go get them.’

‘Bring in some more of that drink, will you?’ Hugo asks. ‘Actually I can help you carry the glasses.’

He hops up from the chair, swaying slightly as he does so.

‘Hugo, I’m sure she’s perfectly capable of carrying a tray by herself. Honestly, it
is
what she does.’

It’s not worth pointing out that what I
do
is design gaming software for brats like hers.

‘To tell the truth, I don’t mind getting away from the family for a while,’ Hugo says as he follows me to the kitchen. ‘We were supposed to go to Tanzania and they’re still angry with Rupert for bringing us to Wales instead. But it’s his dosh so I can’t really blame him for choosing a free holiday over one that’d cost a packet.’

‘Free?’ Aunt Kate doesn’t charge very much for her rooms but they aren’t free.

‘All expenses paid, Rupert said. I guess that’s because your aunt needs the rating. She’s comped our whole stay.’

Terrific. Not only are we killing ourselves to please these pompous farts, we’re doing it for free.

I can feel him come up behind me as I reach into the cabinet for glasses. He’s standing way too close. This is a rural kitchen, not a rush-hour Tube train.

I should grind my heel into his foot but Aunt Kate pops into my head. If she has comped Rupert’s whole stay then it tells me just how much she feels she needs his rating. As much as I’d love to castrate Hugo, I can’t throw away her only chance.

He grasps the counter on either side of me as I turn with the glasses. ‘I couldn’t help but notice the way you looked at me earlier.’

Yes, with utter contempt.

‘I’m sorry, I—’

‘Ssh, you don’t have to be sorry.’

As his blubbery lips dart towards mine I get a whiff of his foul breath.

‘Jesus!’ he shouts, with his upper lip clenched between my teeth.

Oh my god. I’ve bitten the reviewer’s brother-in-law.

But then he smiles (when I release his lip) and shrugs. ‘Oh I see, you like to play hard to get.’

Behind Hugo I see a movement.

‘I didn’t mean to interrupt.’

Rupert is standing in the doorway, watching us.

Chapter Nine

Hugo springs backward at the sound of his brother-in-law’s voice. ‘No, I don’t think there’s anything in your eye,’ he says. ‘I can’t see anything.’

‘Thanks. Actually it feels better now.’

My heart is hammering.

‘Would you like a drink, Rupert?’ I ask.

‘No, thank you. I was just checking on when tea would be ready. I’ve got some work to do.’

‘Would seven be all right? We’ll serve it in the parlour. I’ve just got to get some headache tablets for Prunella.’

I rush from the room, leaving the two men staring each other down.

What must Rupert think? They’ve been here less than three hours and I’ve just rounded off an afternoon of bathtub gin and a questionable lunch with a romantic interlude in the arms of his sister’s husband.

Unless one of his rating categories includes staff promiscuity, I’ve just put Aunt Kate’s livelihood in jeopardy.

‘Are you okay?’ Danny asks when he returns at six on the dot. ‘You look weird.’

Humiliation is coursing through me. I don’t want to tell Danny what happened in the kitchen.

‘Oh I’m fine. I think this corset is too tight, that’s all. I’ve been thinking about the sandwich situation. We can serve some of the caviar for the adults and make peanut butter and jam sandwiches for the twins. Aunt Kate has about three jars of it in the larder and Mabel goes nuts for the stuff, so I’m sure the twins will love it.’

‘That’s going to be hard to spin as Victorian,’ he says.

‘We can’t be perfect. At least they won’t go hungry. Just toast the bread for the caviar. With a little lemon it’ll be great. Very decadent. I’ll make another batch of drinks.’

Maybe if Hugo drinks enough he’ll pass out before he can lunge at me again.

‘I’ve got to turn down everyone’s beds while they’re all downstairs, and restock the bathrooms. You’re okay making the sandwiches and the tea?’

He nods, already counting out slices of bread.

It’s only taken a few hours for the parlour to look like a bomb’s hit it. The twins have pulled nearly every book from the shelves. The cushions are off all the sofas and unoccupied chairs and Oliver is throwing the Monopoly money in the air to watch it rain down over everything.

Danny noses the tea trolley through the door.

‘Look, darlings, tea!’ Hugo says. His earlier sexual assault seems forgotten but I’m pleased to see that his lip is swollen. Prunella hasn’t noticed, but then she hasn’t really paid him any attention since they arrived.

Rupert is staring at the trolley.

‘Is everything okay?’ I ask before I can stop myself. What if he outs me like a real-life edition of Cluedo?
It was Ms Crisp in the kitchen with a romantic embrace.

‘I was just remembering my Granny’s tea trolley. It looked just like that.’

Probably with better food though.

‘Do you remember it, Prunella?’

‘I remember that she stank,’ she says, shifting to a sitting position. ‘I don’t know why you insist on deifying her, Rupert.’

‘I don’t deify her, Pru, I just have good memories of being with her. Maybe if you let yourself feel anything but dissatisfaction, you would, too.’

‘You can be ridiculous sometimes. I’ll just have a cup of tea,’ she says to me. ‘White. I’m not hungry after that lunch.’

‘Of course,’ I say, pouring her a cup and wishing they wouldn’t bicker in front of “the help”. ‘Would everyone like tea?’

‘I’ll have some more of that cocktail, if there’s any going,’ Hugo says.

I’m not about to leave the safety of the room again. ‘Danny, could you please make a pitcher?’

‘What’s this?’ Amanda demands as she picks up a sandwich.

‘It’s peanut butter and jam,’ I say. ‘My daughter loves them and I thought…’

Her tongue darts into the side of the sandwich. ‘Yuck, I hate it!’ She throws it back on the plate.

‘I hate it too!’ cries Oliver, on sight alone. ‘I’m not eating it.’

‘You don’t have to eat it, darlings. They’ll make whatever you want.’

‘Well actually…’

‘Do you want to try a special one?’ Danny says smoothly as he returns with a fresh pitcher of blinding cocktail. ‘Children aren’t usually allowed to have these. But since it is Christmas I think you could…’ He seems to reconsider. ‘Well, maybe you’re not ready for one.’

‘Yes, I want one!’ says Oliver.

‘Me too, give it to me now!’

Danny sighs. ‘Well all right, but you’re very lucky.’ He hands a sandwich from the second plate to each child.

What are those?

Amanda and Oliver look unsure as they sniff the toasted bread. Then Amanda, in her trademark move, sticks her tongue into the side. Her eyes widen. She prises open the sandwich and licks it clean before throwing the spittle-slicked toast back on the plate.

‘I want another one.’

Oliver levers his sandwich open. ‘Me, too. I like it!’

Well at least they’ll get to eat something.

‘I’ll just go get the caviar,’ I say.

‘No need, it’s right there. In the sandwiches.’

Amanda and Oliver are stuffing caviar sandwiches into their foul little mouths.

‘Wow, that’s impressive,’ says Hugo. ‘They’re usually very fussy eaters. It looks like we’ll need more sandwiches.’

Sighing, I go to the kitchen to make a hundred quids' worth of caviar into sandwiches for greedy children.

Rupert follows me.

‘Lottie, may I have a quiet word please?’

‘Listen, Rupert, that wasn’t what you—’

‘It’s about the stockings,’ he says.

I’m not wearing stockings, so he can’t possibly take issue with my attire. Is he one of those sexist men who think women deserve what they get just because they’re not dressed in floor-length potato sacks?

‘Just what are you implying?’

‘I’m not implying anything. Your aunt told me she’d have stockings for the children’s gifts tonight. If you give them to me, please, I can put them in Prunella’s room.’