Page 71 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
“And you still are.”
They both laughed.
“Well, let’s get a coffee anyway, and I promise not to pry if Jess should happen to be there.”
As they strolled through the front doors Vicky was coming out of the dining room with a clipboard on her arm. She greeted them with a warm smile. “Hi.”
“Hi. Just popped in to see how you’re getting on with the prep for Christmas.”
Vicky laughed. “It’s fun. We’ve brought up the boxes of decorations — they’re in the ballroom. And the trees are on order.”
“Great. How about the arrangements for the T’n’T groups?”
“Oh, boy — I’m glad you warned me about that! It’ll be great to have the place so lively, but all the comings and goings are hard to keep track of. Three days, four days, mid-week, weekends, which days they want early calls, which evenings they want dinner. Nightmare!”
“I hope my spreadsheet helps.”
“It does. Without that it’d be impossible. Anyway, come and have a coffee, then if you’ve got time maybe you could go through it with me and let me know any little quirks we need to take account of.”
“That’s why I came over, to see if I could help.”
“And you brought the little one over for a visit.” Vicky bent over the buggy. “And just look at you, little Kyra. Aren’t you growing?” The baby waved her chubby little arms as Vicky tickled her tummy. “Ah, she smiled at me.”
“Wind,” Paul asserted. “What?” Lisa had rolled her eyes at him. “That’s what you always say when she smiles at me.”
“Ignore him,” Lisa advised. “So, you next?” She nodded towards the baby.
“It’s on the agenda, but listed for next year.”
Lisa laughed. “Babies don’t do lists.”
Paul was glad that they didn’t notice him roll his eyes. Babies, already! Vicky and Tom Cullen, one of his oldest friends, had only been married a few weeks, and were just back from their honeymoon.
He had to admit that she was looking well on it. She positively radiated newlywed happiness, her hair streaked light blonde by the Spanish sun, her skin tinted pale gold.
Shaking his head, he strolled out to the terrace and was mildly surprised to see old Arthur sitting out there with his grandson. Though it was sunny it was November, and there was a distinct chill in the air. But the old man was well wrapped up against the cold in a warm overcoat, with a blanket over his knees.
“Hello there, Arthur. I thought you’d be here — I saw your Batmobile outside.”
The old man chuckled. “Smart, ain’t it? Goes like the wind, too. Come and join us. Want a scone?”
Lisa lifted the baby out of her buggy, and Paul held out his arms for her. “Here, I’ll take her.” He only had a partial ulterior motive. He enjoyed bouncing the tot on his lap, but it didn’t hurt that women were supposed to melt over a man holding a baby. If Jess happened to be around . . .
He settled the tot comfortably in the crook of his arm, and she gazed up at him with huge blue-grey eyes, her chubby cheeks dimpling as she smiled.
“There! She really did smile at me.”
“Wind.”
“Of course it wasn’t. You recognised your Uncle Paul, didn’t you, Toots?”
“Go on believing that,” Lisa advised dryly. “She’s probably filling her nappy.”
He glanced at her in alarm, but Lisa laughed.
“You’re okay. She had a fresh one on before we came out.”
Arthur was chuckling again. “Ah, she got you there!” He leaned over and gave the baby his finger to clutch, her tiny pink hand wrapping around his thin, wrinkled one as she stared up at him — and smiled again. “There, now, that was a smile,” he insisted with glee. “A proper one.”
