Page 79 of Companion Required

“Nothing, Sergeant Major Mum,” said Kennedy, before turning to Kieran with a sly grin. “My mother, the perennial organiser. Whatever you do, listen very carefully to her instructions in the kitchen and do not—I repeat—do not deviate from the plan in any way. People have died for less.”

“Don’t you go listening to him, Kieran. He never did a thing he was told growing up—”

“Yes, and look at me now.”

“Don’t talk back to your mother. Now go get showered and dressed. I need you downstairs in fifteen,” said Claire, before stopping and addressing Ed. “And you, young man, come down with me right now. If you want feeding and know what’s good for you.”

Ed stopped licking himself and froze, staring at Claire, aware he was being addressed, before sitting up, then jumping off the bed and running out past Kennedy’s mother.

“See,” said Claire. “At least someone does what they’re told.”

Their bedroom door closed to the pair of them laughing.

* * * *

Kieran answered their doorbell just before one. Dressed in red silk with white furry trimming beneath their warm overcoats—in fancy dress as Santa’s little helpers—Laurie and Steph stood there with carrier bags full of goodies, Laurie almost bursting with excitement.

“It’s confirmed, Kieran,” said Laurie, hugging him, unable to contain her delight. “All going well, we’re looking at a July baby.”

“And we agreed to tell you, Kieran, but we’re keeping things hush-hush at the moment,” said Steph, with a loaded glance at Laurie. “Just to be on the safe side. So no big announcements today, isn’t that right, Laurie?”

“I know, I know,” said Laurie. “But Kennedy will suspect as soon as I refuse a drink.”

“Then I’ll let him know on the quiet,” said Steph, reaching in and hugging Kieran. “In the meantime, something smells absolutely delicious.”

Kieran led them through to the open kitchen and dining room. Reagan ran over and hugged the girls, who she’d met before. Claire waved from her sentinel position at the oven.

“Oh wow,” said Steph, her mouth dropping open. “This place looks amazing. Looks like somebody gave Kennedy’s house a makeover?”

And Kieran had to agree. He peered across the room to find Kennedy by the fridge door pulling out a bottle of champagne, smiling at him and nodding. Every time Kieran entered the room his spirits lifted, seeing their beautiful Christmas tree, sparkling decorations and the tastefully decorated table overseen by Claire. And Kennedy clearly approved.

“Champagne, ladies?” called Kennedy, holding up the bottle.

Before Laurie could answer, Steph jumped in.

“We’re both still on our special diets. So no alcohol for us today. But why don’t you put some of this sparkling ginger ale we’ve brought into a couple of champagne glasses and nobody will be any the wiser.”

And so the party began. By one-thirty, as the house continued to fill with the delicious aromas of cooking, all their guests had arrived. Claire shooed them all out of the way—including Kieran—into their living room to chat, leaving Claire and Reagan to ready food for the gathering.

And they certainly had a crowd. Figuring how to fit sixteen people around Kennedy’s table had been a challenge. But Kennedy had found a couple of folding trestle tables and picnic chairs, and they’d formed a large square so—in true family style—everyone faced into the centre of the table.

Kieran’s mum arrived last, together with his sister, Jules, and Curtis, the boyfriend. At first his mum seemed a little nervous and out of place, but after a couple of champagne cocktails she relaxed, chatting to Len, Steph and Laurie as though they were old friends. Even Kieran’s brother, Sean, made a short appearance for lunch, although he had to bail at five to visit his latest fling. At one point, Kieran sat back and gazed around the table, at his old and new family and friends, and felt a swell of pride.

Just then, a warm hand landed on his thigh.

“Well done, love.”

“Me? Thank your mum and sister, they did most of the cooking.”

“You know what I mean. None of this would have happened, had it not been for you.”

Kieran smiled, turned to Kennedy and pecked him on the lips.

“We should make this a tradition. Your kitchen suits this kind of occasion brilliantly.”

“Whatever you want, Kieran.”

During dessert, Ed, who had been confined to the living room, was brought out and, in a display of rebellion, took a fancy to a particular bauble high up on the Christmas tree, managing to jump up and topple the whole thing onto Jefferson, much to the squeals of amusement from Reagan’s kids.

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