Читать книгу Mills & Boon Christmas Delights Collection - Джанис Мейнард, Rebecca Winters - Страница 17

Chapter Eight

Four hours later and we’d made quite an impact. There were four boxes full of items for the charity shop and another full of recycling. I’d chucked the rubbish straight out. In between the organising, I’d made more tea and persuaded Michael to take some painkillers as it was obvious he was in more discomfort than he was letting on. As they began to kick in, his face relaxed and I felt a little more at ease with his decision not to be taken by the paramedics for a check-up.

‘It really is a beautiful house,’ I said, stretching my back and catching sight of the ornate plaster ceiling rose above me.

‘Thanks. I know I’m lucky to be able to live here. I’m sure you think I don’t appreciate it because of the state I’ve let it get into.’

‘No, not at all.’ And it was true. I knew it was all too easy to make sweeping judgements about a situation from the outside. And just how hurtful those judgements could be.

Michael studied me for a moment, assessing me with those incredible eyes and that look that felt like he could see further than I might want him to.

‘My grandfather’s a canny man when it comes to property. He started out with nothing and built up his business gradually, taking on places that needed work and selling them on for a profit. All this area used to be cheap flats run by shady landlords. Maintenance was practically unheard of. Grandad got a couple of places at auction. They were in such a state and in a bad bit of town so there wasn’t a great deal of demand. But he felt that things were going to improve. Of course, everyone thought he was barmy when he said that, but he made similar investments in various parts of London and he got it right every time. There’s no way I’d be able to live here if he hadn’t had that insight all those years ago.’

‘So you bought it off him? He must have still done you a heck of a deal!’ I said, caught up in the story before realising that my comment was probably incredibly inappropriate. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – ’

‘No, it’s fine. I actually rent it. We talked about me buying it off him a few years ago but he wasn’t ready to let it go. All the time that property values here are going up, it’s the right thing for him to do.’

‘You didn’t mind that he wouldn’t sell?’

He gave me a quick smile. ‘Not at all. In fact, I was pretty damn grateful he didn’t.’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘When I split up with my wife, she seemed to be under the impression that I owned this and wanted it sold and half the profits.’

‘Oh. You never told her you rented?’

‘I never told her I owned it. She assumed. And I assumed she knew it wasn’t mine. It was all kind of a whirlwind thing, her and I getting together. And then I guess because I did all the maintenance and so on, she just thought I owned it.’

‘She didn’t get a clue from bills and stuff?’

‘Angeline never bothered herself with little things like that. I paid all the bills, handled all the paperwork. Which I was happy to. It wasn’t really her thing.’

‘I’m not sure it’s anyone’s “thing”. You just have to get on and do it.’

‘Unless you have some mug to do it for you.’

I pulled a face, unsure what to say.

‘If I’d have realised what she thought I would have told her, of course! It just never occurred to me that she thought I was wealthy enough to own a place like this.’

‘She never asked to contribute to the mortgage when she moved in?’

Michael pulled a face. ‘No. That’s not really her style.’

‘Oh.’

‘Anyway, the look on her face was pretty priceless when we split up and she realised that nothing to do with the property is in my name. It’s all in Grandad’s. So she couldn’t touch it.’

‘I imagine she was a little put out.’

The lips quirked again. ‘You could say that.’

‘Grandad just smiled when I told him. He told me I’d worked hard in helping him on this house in holidays and stuff, so it would have been wrong to have to split it with someone who didn’t love it like I did.’

‘He didn’t trust her.’

‘No. I don’t think he did. She wasn’t exactly into family the same way I am. It was always a bone of contention between us.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Michael flashed me a look. ‘Thanks. All in the past now though.’

‘So you helped work on this place?’ I said, glancing around and sensing that moving the subject on might be for the best. ‘That’s great! I love Georgian architecture. They really had some wonderful ideas about light and space.’

‘They certainly did. All us kids did bits on various houses when we could. Helping out, you know. But I guess I always felt a connection to this one. It was in a right state but when I saw it in the auction listings, I persuaded Grandad to get it anyway. It was a family decision in the end, as a lot of things are in my family – something you’ve probably already worked out.’

I smiled at him. ‘Their support must have been very greatly appreciated.’

‘Definitely. Quite literally in one instance when I walked into an upper room one day and nearly ended up in the kitchen.’

‘Oh my goodness! Were you all right?’ I leant forward, fascinated at hearing the history of the house.

‘Yeah. My brother managed to grab my arm just as the joist gave way.’

‘That must have been frightening for you both.’

He gave a quick eyebrow raise. ‘More so for me. He was in no great hurry to pull me up and instead made me apologise for every mean thing I’d ever said or done to him.’

‘Really? I imagine you were dangling there for quite some time then.’

He gave a little outward huff of air from his nose, a concession of amusement. ‘Touché.’

***

Michael had been doing his best to help, determined not to give in but in the end I managed to persuade him to sit quietly and just close his eyes for ten minutes. A short while later, his voice cut into my concentration, making me jump.

‘I really hate those curtains.’

‘Oh my…’ I gasped, my hand on my chest. ‘You made me jump. I thought you were asleep.’

‘No. You’d know if I was asleep. Snore like a train, apparently.’

I knew it wasn’t true, but played along. ‘Attractive.’

His lips hinted at a smile.

I glanced around at the curtains he was focused on. ‘What don’t you like about them?’

If I was honest, they weren’t exactly to my taste either but it was obvious to anyone that they were expensive and my next move would depend on what Michael said.

‘I don’t think they suit the room. One of the things I love about this house is the sense of space, the proportions of it. Ideally I want that feel in the rooms too. It’s my own fault though. I said I’d go and look at some with my wife, but kept putting it off when other things came up. She got fed up with waiting in the end and had these made. Cost a bloody fortune and I can’t stand them.’

‘So what would you prefer?’

‘Something lighter in colour. Something that…I don’t know…seems less funereal.’

‘Then you should get rid of them.’

His sleepy eyes widened. ‘I can’t! The amount they cost, I should be using them for the next thirty years at least!’

‘Michael,’ I said, sitting back and scooting my legs out to the side a little as I started getting pins and needles. ‘Everything we’re doing here is about making your life better, making your home somewhere you enjoy being, whatever room you’re in. Making you happier. This room is one of the main living spaces, so I hope you’ll be using it more once we’re finished, because it really is quite lovely. But if the first thing you’re going to think every time you come in here is how much you hate those curtains, then they have to go. It’s as simple as that. There are places that you can take designer curtains like these and they’ll sell them on so you get some money back – a bit like second-hand designer clothes agencies – so it wouldn’t be a total loss.’

He frowned. ‘I’m not…I hope you don’t think I’m being tight, or anything, when I say that.’

‘Not at all. They were expensive and getting rid of them seems wasteful to you.’

‘It does.’

‘I’ve been doing this a long time. Don’t worry. And I don’t think you’re being a Scrooge, don’t worry about it. Even if I did, that’s your prerogative. It doesn’t matter what I think.’

‘It matters to me.’

I looked up, surprised.

With perfect timing, Michael’s phone began to ring.

‘Hi sis,’ he answered.

I finished off arranging the photo frames he’d wanted to keep out on a shelf on the dresser, having given it a good clean first. Although I’d told Michael in our first, rather heated discussion that I wasn’t a cleaner, that wasn’t entirely true. There was no point putting things back if the place they were going back to was dusty or dirty so generally the houses I helped organise also got a damn good clean. Having said that, I wasn’t about to clean anyone’s toilet but my own. I often went above and beyond, but I had limits.

I tuned out of Michael’s phone call and instead concentrated on the pictures I was putting on the shelf. There had been a couple of him with his wife that had obviously survived an initial onslaught of being got rid of and he had pulled those out of the frames and put them in a pile. Most of the ones left were of family. It was clear from spending time here just how important family was to this man. I turned my attention back to the photos – I recognised Janey’s husband in one with Michael, their arms round each other’s shoulders, both caked with mud and holding aloft some sort of trophy. There were a couple of rugby team ones, and another of him sat, his shirt open and catching the breeze as his legs dangled over the edge of a boat. My eyes kept drifting back to this one. It was tricky to ignore the fact that under the shapeless, worn clothes Michael now seemed to live in, there was an extremely hot body. It was kind of a shame he covered it up most of the time. Running my gaze over the rest of the photos, it was obvious that, at one point, he’d taken more pride in his appearance. Not in a vain way, just that he’d perhaps taken a little more care and interest in it -his hair was shorter, his clothes tidier, his face more inclined to smile.

I’d been honest before when I’d said I didn’t care what he wore. But I did want him to care a little more about what he wore because I knew from years of experience that feeling good in your clothes could make a real difference to one’s mindset.

‘Who’s the dog?’ I asked, as I sensed Michael’s presence approaching.

Reaching my side, he picked up one of the photos which featured him with a Heinz 57 type dog.

‘Monty.’

‘Whose is he?’

Mikey took a breath and shifted his weight, the painkillers apparently beginning to wear off.

‘He was mine. Daft dog. Passed away.’

‘Oh no! Oh, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have said anything – ’

Michael shook his head and smiled, the sadness in it evident, no matter how he tried to disguise it.

‘It’s fine.’

‘Have you never thought of getting another? I mean, you’re at home most of the time? And there are doggy day-care places if you needed to go out for longer than you’d want to leave him.’

He peered down at me. ‘Doggy day-care?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do I really look like someone who would use the phrase “doggy day-care”?’

I rolled my eyes at him. ‘Call it what you like then, but I’m just saying maybe getting another dog would be something to think about.’

‘I have thought about it, and I thought no.’

‘Oh.’

Michael replaced the photograph. ‘This looks really nice. Thank you,’ he said, standing back from the dresser to study it better.

‘I’m glad you’re pleased. Lots more to do yet though.’

We stood in silence for a moment.

‘But going back to the dog thing,’ I said, immediately hearing Michael sigh, ‘it would be great company for you. This is a big house and I think it could be nice for you to have another being here. I volunteer at a rescue centre just outside London. I could get them to keep an eye out for you, if you wanted?’

‘Kate It’s very kind of you, but I am not interested in getting another dog, OK?’

‘OK,’ I said, chewing the inside of my mouth as my thoughts wandered off in another direction. ‘I’d better be off then. You could take some more painkillers now if you wanted,’ I told him, glancing at my watch, ‘it’s been over the time.’

‘You’re leaving?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘Do you have another appointment?’

‘No. Not this evening, thank goodness.’

‘Meeting the boyfriend?’ He raised an eyebrow.

I raised my own in reply.

A smile flickered. ‘Point taken. It’s just the Janey and the crew are coming over. I texted my brother-in-law about not going to rugby training. The daft sod told Janey I’d come off my bike so now she’s insisting on coming over to make sure I’m still in one piece and it’s turned into a family expedition.’ The smile on his face when he said this showed just how much this meant to him. It was the same joyous smile they all wore in the photographs I’d been arranging so carefully earlier.

‘Oh that’s lovely. It’ll be nice for you to have them here, and there’s even space of a sort now too.’

‘I know. They won’t believe it. They’ll have you up on sorcery charges.’

‘Hardly. Well, I’d better get going then. I don’t want to interrupt your family time.’

I made to leave but Michael caught my arm.

‘I…Janey and I thought you might be able to stay. They’re bringing fish and chips, and I have to say, they’re the best you’ll ever have. I’d hate for you to miss out on such an amazing culinary experience.’

I smiled. ‘That’s quite a claim.’

‘All true.’

I was tempted. I’d been so busy with everyone having last-minute panics before Christmas and arranging bookings for a raft of New Year resolution clients that Janey and I hadn’t had a chance to catch up as much as we usually liked to. It would be lovely to see them all.

‘Go on. You know you want to.’

I did want to. The thought of going back to my tiny flat and working late into the night, accompanied only by a microwave meal for one had so much less appeal than staying a little longer here in this beautiful house sharing a meal with people I cared about. And Michael, of course.

‘Janey will be upset if she finds out you left just before they got here.’

‘Emotional blackmail? That’s a low blow.’

‘Did it work?’

I fiddled with one of the photo frames, moving it a miniscule amount, then moving it the same amount back.

‘Yes.’

‘Then I’m unrepentant.’

I tilted my head back so that I could meet his gaze. ‘Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?’

The doorbell rang and Michael turned.

‘Wait,’ I said, putting a hand out to stop him, ‘let me go. I can try to reassure Janey a little that I’ve been keeping an eye on you this afternoon and you’re OK.’

Michael looked down. My hand was resting on his chest. Suddenly, my brain acknowledged the hard muscle, the warmth, the definition of his pecs through the fabric of his T-shirt. I snatched my hand back.

‘Sorry.’

‘No problem.’

The doorbell rang again and I scooted out the living room door to answer it.

‘Katie! Is he all right? That bloody motorbike! If I’ve told him once, I’ve told him a thousand times. Honest to God, in this weather too. I – ’

‘Janey he’s fine,’ I said, giving her a hug and taking her coat as they all piled through the door.

‘Are you sure?’ she asked quietly.

‘Yes. I’ve been here for most of the afternoon and I kept an eye on him. He’s pretty bruised and bumped but of course being stubborn about it. His ribs are pretty sore, but hopefully they’re just bruised rather than anything else. I gave him some painkillers earlier and eventually got him to rest most of the afternoon. He’s due some more pain relief about now if he wants them. They seem to have helped take the edge off things.’

‘If you’re finished discussing me out there, I’m starving!’ Michael emerged from the living room and although he was smiling, I could see the tightness in his face from the pain.

‘Stop whingeing you big wuss,’ Patrick, Janey’s husband laughed. ‘We’re coming,’ he said as he gave me a hug and unbundled the children from their coats, hats and mittens.

‘Uncle Mikey!’ they cheered as they careered across the hallway, making enough noise to rival a baby hippo.

‘Hiya squirts!’

‘Uncle Mikey pick me up, pick me up!’ the younger one chanted, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, her arms stretching up towards him.

Michael hesitated a moment, clearly unwilling to disappoint his niece, and then began to bend towards her.

‘Michael Francis O’Farrell don’t you dare.’ Janey was marching towards her brother.

He halted mid motion.

‘Lily. Uncle Mikey fell off his motorbike today and hurt himself so he can’t pick you up. Besides, you’re getting too big to be picked up these days.’

‘She’s never too big,’ Michael countered.

Janey ignored him, ushering the children into the dining room. ‘Patrick, could you bring the food in please?’

‘Coming.’

Chatting happily, Patrick and I diverted off into the kitchen.

‘Shall I get some plates?’ I asked.

‘Let’s be reckless and eat out of the paper, shall we?’ Patrick grinned at me.

I returned it. ‘Why not?’

We moved around the kitchen, hunting and gathering the rest of the supplies amongst the still-to-be-sorted chaos of the room. Soon we had everything we needed – Patrick brought the various packets of food and I carried the cutlery, tomato sauce, salt and vinegar. Following the sound of voices, we headed to the dining room. The door was ajar and, hands full, I pushed it open a little more with my hip. At which point I nearly dropped the whole lot. Opposite me, Michael stood shirtless, jogging bottoms riding low on his waist. Without doubt it was one of the most beautiful sights I’d seen in a long time. Maybe any time. The definition and muscle I’d got an idea of from distractedly putting my hand on his chest earlier was now displayed in its full glory. And glorious it most definitely was. In front of me stood a body that would make the Hemsworth boys feel like they’d been slacking at the gym.

‘What about there?’ Janey pressed on her brother’s side gently and Michael shot away from her.

‘Jesus Christ! For f…’ He stopped himself as he caught sight of his niece and nephew watching the proceedings, wide-eyed. ‘Yes. That bit is a little tender.’

‘I can take that,’ Patrick said, attempting to retrieve the vinegar bottle I was now gripping with enough force to make my knuckles go white.

‘Huh?’ I mumbled, pulling my gaze away from Michael’s half-naked body – a feat that was far easier said than done. ‘Oh. Yes. Yes, of course,’ I said, relinquishing it as I surreptitiously checked that the only drooling I had been doing was of the mental kind.

‘Janey please can we just eat now?’ Michael nodded his head at the food his brother-in-law had laid out on the table.

‘In a moment. If you’re going to ride that stupid machine, you’re going to have to put up with being poked about when you come off.’

‘I’ve no aversion to that if it’s a pretty nurse doing the poking.’ He winked at Patrick. Janey prodded her brother a little harder than was probably necessary and he grimaced.

‘Point taken,’ he conceded, his teeth gritted.

‘Keep an eye on those ribs and don’t ride that bike for a while.’

‘Yes Ma.’

Janey threw his T-shirt at him. ‘Get dressed and eat something.’

‘That’s what I’ve been trying to do ever since you got here.’

‘Oh? You were undressed before we got here?’ Patrick commented, his expression innocent.

Michael pulled a ‘smart arse”’ face at him.

‘Why were you undressed before we got here Uncle Mikey?’ Joseph was currently at the age where he liked to question everything and everyone.

‘I wasn’t Joey. Your dad is just trying to be a funny man. And failing miserably.’

I smiled at the good natured teasing as I took a forkful of fish and chips. Oh my God.

‘Didn’t I tell you?’ Michael looked over, smiling.

‘That’s soooo good!’ I said, covering my mouth with my hand as I broke etiquette and spoke with my mouth full.

‘You think I’d lie to you?’

I chewed and swallowed. ‘No. I just…wouldn’t put it past you to exaggerate occasionally.’

‘Oh, he definitely does that,’ Patrick grinned.

‘You know we could get Janey to divorce you if we wanted.’ Michael pointed his fork at him.

Patrick’s eyes danced with laughter, his mouth full of chips.

‘Mummy are you getting divorced from Daddy?’ Lily’s voice was tiny and heartbreaking. We all looked over to where she was tucked in at the table, a couple of cushions piled on the chair to help her reach. The big green eyes, so like her mother’s, were shimmering with unshed tears.

Janey reached out a hand to her daughter. ‘No sweetheart. Of course we’re not! Uncle Mikey and Daddy were just being silly.’

I looked over at Michael. Already pale from the pain of the accident, he seemed to have greyed even more and was now resting his elbow on the table, his hand over his mouth as he realised what he’d done, his eyes focused intently on his little niece. The chair scraped and he limped quickly around the table towards her.

‘Mikey,’ Janey warned.

Ignoring her, Michael pulled the little girl’s chair out and scooped her up into his arms, his jaw clenching against the pain the movement caused. Instinctively, Lily clasped her hands around his neck and burrowed her face into the curve of his shoulder.

‘I’m sorry sweetheart. It was just your Uncle Mikey being silly. Mummy and Daddy are very happy and love each other so, so much. You’ll all be together for a long time yet, OK?’

A sniff came from his shoulder area.

‘But you got divorced.’

Michael closed his eyes briefly. ‘I did Lily. But that was because I didn’t marry the right girl. Your dad married exactly the right girl.’

His niece lifted her head and studied him for a moment. ‘You promise?’

‘I promise.’

She reached a hand out and played with his hair where it was curling onto his collar.

‘Who should you have married instead Uncle Mikey?’

‘Ah, well that’s the million dollar question sweet pea.’ He cuddled her for a few more minutes before lowering her back onto the chair. Tucking her back in, he crouched down beside her. I saw Janey tense as we all saw what the movements were costing him.

‘You OK now?’ he asked Lily.

She nodded.

‘Your chips still hot?’ He stole one to try and she giggled. ‘How about I go warm them up for you?’

Lily nodded again.

Michael stood and leant to take the plate, his face pale behind the smile for his niece.

‘I’ll do it,’ I said, pushing my chair out. ‘I’m finished anyway. I can get you some more painkillers on the way.’

‘I’m fine Katie. Honestly.’

I met his eyes. Yep. Totally not fine. ‘Go and sit down. I’m not getting lumbered finishing this house on my own just because you made yourself worse.’

Without waiting for an answer, I took Lily’s plate, then swiped Michael’s too and took them across to the kitchen to stick in the microwave for a couple of minutes. I got a glass of water, a couple of the painkillers from the box he’d used earlier and then put the packet back up on a high shelf just in case the children wandered in later. The microwave beeped and I unstacked the dishes and put them on a tray I’d managed to unearth.

Pausing at the kitchen door, I smiled at the laughter drifting from the adjacent room. The sound of it reminded me of what I’d always wanted. And what I’d never had. Pushing those thoughts from my mind, I nudged the dining room door open and entered the room. It made me smile to take in the scene. The room being used for what it had been originally intended: People being together, enjoying the house, enjoying each other’s company, enjoying good food.

Placing the tray on the table, I unloaded the plates and glass. Putting Michael’s dinner in front of him, I handed him the tablets and the glass of water.

‘Thank you.’

‘Take them now so that they can get to work.’

‘I seem to remember you saying something about this process not being about me obeying you.’

‘I didn’t think you could handle the truth at the time.’

The smile that appeared relaxed his face.

‘So what is the truth?’

‘That sometimes it will be about obeying me. Now take those tablets and finish your food whilst it’s hot.’

His smile widened.

Janey clipped him around the top of his hair.

‘What was that for?’

‘For whatever you were thinking.’

‘How do you know what I was thinking?’

Janey gave him a look.

I carried on round the table to Lily and left the siblings to it.

‘Here you go. All nice and hot again.’

‘Thank you Katie.’

‘You’re welcome,’ I smiled, running a hand over Lily’s curls before returning to my seat.

‘Uncle Mikey?’

‘Mmmhmm?’ Michael smiled at his niece in answer, his mouth full of battered fish.

‘I wish you’d married Katie. She’s nice.’

Michael continued chewing his food, his face giving nothing away.

‘So what exactly happened this afternoon, then, with the bike, I mean?’ Patrick asked, deftly changing the subject. I could have kissed him.

‘This room is looking great,’ Janey said to me as she took a walk around the room after dinner, stretching her back and rubbing her baby bump. She stopped at the dresser and looked at the photos I’d rearranged earlier.

‘Was that the Iron Man challenge?’ she asked, holding the photo up to Michael and Patrick.

‘Yeah. God, that nearly killed me.’ Patrick looked at his brother-in-law. ‘Remind me never to listen to anything you say again if it starts with the words “I’ve got a great idea”.’

‘Oh, you loved it!’ Janey said, laughing. ‘Look at your little face in this.’

‘Tears of a clown,’ Patrick replied.

‘Or maybe just a clown,’ Michael added.

‘Ah, look at that,’ his sister picked up another frame. ‘I love this one of you and little Monty.’

‘He was hardly little.’

‘No. But he thought he was. He loved sitting on your lap. It was adorable.’

‘Some people found it less so.’

Janey sniffed. ‘Yes, well. There’s no accounting for taste. I don’t know why you don’t get another dog. You loved that mutt to bits. It’d be great company for you.’

I turned and met Michael’s gaze with a triumphant look.

He just gave a little shake of his head, rolled his eyes and turned back to concentrate on Lily who was now trying to crawl her way up onto his lap.