Page 30 of Christmas Spirit
“I think all Mr. Fletcher Jones needs is to rest in front of a roaring fire with a cup of tea. There really is nothing for you to worry about, Mr. Forrester.”
“You think that, do you? Well, thank you for your opinion, but are you a doctor? A nurse? Are you? Because if you’renot,how the hell can you know?”
“How do I know, sir? I just do.”
Georgie glared at Nicholas, into eyes as blue, warm, and calm as a summer sky.
“I…”
I what?Georgie wasn’t sure.
“Let me assure you, Mr. Forrester, no harm will come to Mr. Fletcher Jones, nor indeed to yourself.”
What did Nicholas mean? His words didn’t make sense, but somehow, they comforted him, like hot buttered toast or a mug of the creamiest, sweetest hot chocolate laced with cinnamon.
A sharp wind whistled down the driveway, and Georgie shivered.
“It’s a north wind, coming from the Pole,” Nicholas said, looking up into the sky. “More snow’s on the way, so it’s no time to be outside. Come, settle yourself next to Mr. Fletcher Jones, and I’ll get the pair of you in front of the fire, with a plateful of mince pies and a fresh pot of tea, before you can say Jack Frost.”
Georgie shook his head in resignation, and climbed into the sledge, next to Roland, knowing he wasn’t going to win the argument.
“Seems like we’re staying longer,” he muttered, and shivered again as a fresh gust of wind rocked the sledge.
Tea and mince pies, in front of an open fire, a warm little haven against the buffeting wind… That wasn’t really so bad, was it? The idea wound itself around him like the snuggliest winter coat and he pulled it tighter, as they made their way back to the hotel.
Chapter Seventeen
Roland was on his third cup of tea, and nibbling on a mince pie between sips. As soon as the sledge had pulled up at the hotel, the snow had started to fall from heavy, yellow-tinged clouds as a northerly wind picked up strength.
He was warm and comfortable and, as he gazed into the fire’s leaping flames, he didn’t feel like being anywhere else.
Certainly not at home.
A hard gust of wind, harder than the rest, slammed itself against the window. Home? That was a joke. His smart house was nothing more than a cold pile of bricks and mortar.
If he was honest, Pendleton Manor was more his home. His heart slumped. It was a vaguely sad, even pathetic thought. His colleagues had been excited about Christmas, and looking forward to leaving the place behind for a couple of weeks, because they had somewhere else to be, and loved ones to be with. But him? Nothing and nobody awaited him, and never would. He shoved his gloomy thoughts aside; he’d made his choice and he had to live with the consequences.
Next to him, Georgie clattered his tea cup into his saucer. Roland looked up, and met his eye.
“You can stop looking at me like I’m about to die. I’m fine.”
He knew Georgie had been keeping a surreptitious eye on him since they’d got back, averting his gaze every time he turned to face him. It was sweet, and touching, Roland supposed, to have somebody who was genuinely concerned for his welfare.
“People don’t always know when they’ve got concussion. And concussion is dangerous.” Georgie’s brow pinched in worry. “You might think you’re fine, but I knew somebody who smacked his head. Like you, he passed out. Said he was okay when he came round,just like you,and he seemed it. Then bang! He collapsed, and had to be rushed to hospital. A bleed on the brain. He got better, but it was a close thing.”
Sothatwas why Georgie was so concerned… But he did feel fine and there was no problem silently brewing. Roland didn’t know why he knew that, he justdid.
“I’ve had concussion before,” Roland said. Georgie’s face was awash with worry, and he wanted it gone, just like he wanted the shadows darkening Georgie’s grey eyes to be swept away. “I know what it’s like and I know the signs. This is nothing like that, because this is nothing. If I didn’t feel right, I’d let you know.”
Georgie peered at him, his eyes narrowed as though trying to decide whether or not to believe him.
“Is that true?”
“Yes, of course it is.”
No, of course it isn’t.If his lie allayed Georgie’s fears, it was worth telling. Roland met and held Georgie’s eyes, and didn’t flinch.
“Okay,” Georgie said, at last.
