Their Christmas Family Miracle. Caroline Anderson
She smiled. ‘Ah, well, now. Apparently he likes the dog, doesn’t he, Rufus?’ she murmured, looking down at him. He was stuck on her leg, sensing the need to behave, his eyes anxious, and she felt him quiver.
When she glanced back up, Kate was staring at her openmouthed. ‘He likes the dog?’ she hissed.
‘His grandmother had one. He doesn’t go a bundle on the Christmas decorations, though,’ she added ruefully with a pointed glance at the light fitting. ‘Come on, let’s make a drink and take it upstairs to the kids.’
‘He was going to put a kitchen up there,’ Kate told her as she boiled the kettle. ‘Just a little one, enough to make drinks and snacks, but he hasn’t got round to it yet. Pity. It would have been handy for you.’
‘It would. Still, I only need to bring the children down if I’m actually cooking. We’re quite all right up in the playroom, and at least it’ll give us a little breathing space before we have to find somewhere to go.’
‘And, actually, it’s a huge relief,’ Kate said, sagging back against the worktop and folding her arms. ‘I was wondering what to do about Jake—I mean, I couldn’t leave him here on his own over Christmas when he’s injured, but my house is going to be heaving and noisy and chaotic, and I would have had to run backwards and forwards—so you’ve done me a massive favour. And, you never know, maybe you’ll all have a good time together! In fact—’
Amelia cut her off with a laugh and a raised hand. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said firmly, remembering his bitterly sarcastic opening remarks. ‘But if we can just keep out of his way, maybe we’ll all survive.’
She handed Kate her drink, picked up her own mug and then hesitated. No matter how rude and sarcastic he’d been, he was still a human being and for that alone he deserved her consideration, and he was injured and exhausted and probably not thinking straight. ‘I ought to check on him,’ she said, putting her mug back down. ‘He was talking about malt whisky.’
‘So? Don’t worry, he’s not a drinker. He won’t have had much.’
‘On top of painkillers?’
‘Ah. What were they?’
‘Goodness knows—something pretty heavyduty. Nothing I recognised. Not paracetamol, that’s for sure!’
‘Oh, hell. Where is he?’
‘Just next door in the little sitting room.’
‘I’ll go—’
‘No. Let me. He was pretty cross.’
Kate laughed softly. ‘You think I’ve never seen him cross?’
So they went together, opening the door silently and pushing it in until they could see him sprawled full length on the sofa, one leg dangling off the edge, his cast resting across his chest, his head lolling against the arm.
Kate frowned. ‘He doesn’t look very comfortable.’
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