Escape for Christmas

Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Five of Sophie’s guests were now in the lounge, chattering away while sipping cocktails and tucking into bowls of nibbles. Someone had told the smart speaker to play Abba’s Greatest Hits and as yet no one was complaining, so Sophie decided not to interfere, glad to see it going well so far.

After the initial shock of finding that Nico Lombardi was the living embodiment of your typical Titled Italian Billionaire cover model, Sophie had given herself a stern talking-to to pull herself together and keep things professional.

Nico proved an expert at mixing Aperol Spritzes. Agatha, Suzanne, Una and Hugo had all either tried the drink before or been persuaded to try one now. Hugo was already on his second. No one had ventured out to the hot tub yet, which was fine with Sophie, as it saved on the heating costs. She could hardly blame them, as it looked like the sleet could be turning into snow and settling.

She had been worried about the flamenco troupe, but they’d messaged half an hour earlier saying they had a four-wheel-drive van and, being local, were used to the weather. She flitted between the guest lounge and the kitchen, checking the guests had everything they needed while preparing the tapas, which would be followed by her tropical pavlova after the dancing.

There was no sign of Amber, which seemed a bit odd. Sophie had been up to her room and heard the TV on, but she knew better than to disturb guests. Her only dilemma was whether to alert Amber to the fact that the tapas were being served. Tapas were on the agenda for the evening after all, and she’d assumed everyone would come down for meals, rather than having to serve people in their rooms. Perhaps Amber had fallen asleep after her nightmare journey or simply not felt like company.

Sophie busied herself with laying out the Spanish meat and cheese on platters and took them through to the others.

Hugo and Una were in the middle of telling Nico about their walking holiday in Sicily. Sophie’s arrival was greeted with appreciative sounds, though the guests carried on talking. Sophie didn’t mind being politely ignored. It suited her current mood and she didn’t want to engage too deeply in conversation about her own circumstances, if possible. She placed the plates on the sideboard for guests to help themselves, but lingered to listen.

‘Sicily was our first proper holiday without one of our grown-up children,’ Una said sadly. Sophie noticed that she’d changed into a sparkly jumper, while Hugo was still comfortable in his fleece. ‘That’s why we’re here now, really. Both our children aren’t spending Christmas with us this year. Our daughter’s going to stay with her new partner’s parents in Norfolk.’

‘And our son is a doctor in London, so he’s on duty over the holiday,’ Hugo added gloomily.

‘ And we lost our dog in November. He was a yellow Lab and thirteen,’ Una sniffled.

The other guests offered their condolences, and Sophie’s own heart went out to the couple. Christmas must have felt very desolate to them this year, after being used to having the family and their beloved dog there.

‘We couldn’t face Christmas on our own,’ Hugo explained. ‘I know it sounds silly, but there doesn’t seem much point, now the kids have flown the nest and there’s no Archie to beg for turkey at the dinner table, so we thought we’d get away from it altogether. Do something different, rather than even trying to make it the same.’

‘Plus, we love walking, it’s a great location and Sophie’s plans sounded like fun,’ Una added.

There were more sympathetic murmurs. ‘It’s a lot more fun than spending another Christmas at my cousin’s!’ Agatha declared. ‘I lost my dear husband just over a year ago, and my cousin insisted I must spend Christmas with her and her partner. They’re good souls, but they told me I couldn’t spend the season moping around. They wanted me to watch the King’s speech and stand up for the national anthem!’

‘I don’t mind watching it, but that sounds a bit much,’ agreed Una.

Nico caught Sophie’s eye and winked. She smiled back and hung around, listening to Agatha.

‘It is, on top of all that bloody turkey. I’d rather fall asleep over my book or some trash on TV. Ron – my late husband – and I used to take the opportunity to watch rubbish on the telly and eat our own weight in cheese. We never had turkey. Ron was a great cook and he’d rustle up something like a moussaka or risotto. We loved our holidays in the Med, doing a bit of sightseeing and eating out by the harbours together …’

Sophie smiled, understanding now why Agatha had been so attracted to the Spanish theme and to not spending Christmas with her rather patronising cousin, however well-meaning she was.

‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Suzanne said from the leather armchair, where she’d pulled a blanket over her legs. Sophie winced inwardly. It was Jingle’s blanket. How could it have got into the guest lounge? Suzanne’s black sweater-dress had already attracted white cat hairs, but luckily she didn’t seem to have noticed.

‘How long were you married?’ Suzanne asked Agatha.

‘Forty-nine years, give or take. We met at a bus stop in the pouring rain when we were both on our way to job interviews. We looked like drowned rats, but it didn’t seem to put either of us off. I had to give him the number of my landlady; not that she would allow a man in my digs. Things were so different back in those days.’

Nico laughed deeply and his warm brown eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Sounds like love at first sight, Agatha.’

‘I suppose it was,’ she agreed, gazing momentarily at the fire. ‘Hmm, well, enough of me boring you. I suppose you must all be escaping Christmas for some reason. What about you, young man? I’d have thought you’d have had a string of young women begging you to fill their stocking?’

Instantly, the room went silent. Sophie sprang into action. ‘I think it’s time for the sangria! I’ll be back in a moment.’

‘Want a hand?’ Nico offered with a look that said: please help me escape .

‘I didn’t mean to embarrass you,’ Agatha said.

‘Not at all. I’m finding it all hugely entertaining.’

‘And you’ll tell us all why you’re escaping when you come back?’ Agatha commented.

Nico gave an enigmatic smile and followed Sophie to the kitchen.

Once in the fragrant warmth of the room, he sniffed the air with a happy sigh. ‘That smells good,’ he said.

‘It’s the croquetas ,’ Sophie replied, happy that her food was being appreciated. ‘They’ve been warming in the oven.’

‘Sounds delicious.’

‘Please ignore the mess. It is clean, though!’ she added, feeling Nico occupying every inch of space in her modest but well-equipped kitchen. ‘This is normally out of bounds to guests, but I thought you might need a break.’

He smiled at her, flashing his perfect teeth. Perhaps he was a model. ‘It’s fine, honestly. It’s fun and you’re a great host.’

‘Are you – er – in publishing by any chance?’ Sophie asked him.

‘Publishing?’ He frowned. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

‘Just a hunch. Guesswork. I sometimes try to work out what my guests do for a living. Which sounds weird, now I’ve said it out loud. It’s simply that you get to meet so many people, running a guest house, which I love. But forget I said anything. Honestly, it’s not my business. Or anyone’s …’ She was digging a deeper hole by the second, although being in such close proximity to Nico was enough to make anyone flustered.

‘It’s a B she’d found them in a deli in the village and had stored them in her freezer.

‘Please tuck in,’ she said. ‘There will be more tapas later, and then dessert after the flamenco, so there’s plenty for everyone.’

But where was Amber? Perhaps now was the time to pay a visit to her room and gently suggest that the food was being served.

Leaving everyone to enjoy the sangria and tapas, Sophie hurried upstairs, checking her phone as she went. The flamenco troupe was due in an hour, but she worried it might take them longer in this weather. It was properly snowing now, and the fields and garden were white all over. She’d check on Amber and then, if she’d not heard back, she’d call them again.

As she reached Amber’s door, she heard sounds of someone moving in the room. Sophie knocked softly and said, ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but I wanted you to know that drinks and tapas are being served in the guest lounge, if you’d like to join us all.’

After a few seconds Amber opened it. ‘Sorry, yes, I’m coming down. I fell asleep and I’m just changing. I’ll see you all very soon.’

Relieved to hear her guest sounding perkier, Sophie went back down into the office and called the flamenco people. Jingle and Belle were squashed together on one radiator cradle for warmth. Sophie lifted the curtain of the office window while listening to the ringing tone.

Oh God, in the light spilling from the house, she could see how much the snow had settled. There were a couple of inches lying on the hedge and the garden statues, while large flakes swirled and danced in the wind. There was still no reply from the flamenco troupe and Sophie started to panic a little. What if they didn’t turn up? How would she entertain her guests? How would the troupe get home, if they did make it?

Setting her fears aside, she went back to the guest lounge, where the chatter was louder and more convivial than before. Nico was topping up Una and Agatha’s glasses, Hugo and Suzanne were laughing at something hilarious, and the tapas were clearly vanishing at a rapid rate.

‘Una Paloma Blanca’ was blasting out of the smart speaker. Sophie hadn’t heard the cheesy Spanish pop song since she was little, when her parents used to play it. She thought of her parents, at home with her brother and his family. Would they be worrying about her? She must find time to call them. Actually she missed them … For a few seconds, she felt horribly alone.

After ten months of running Sunnyside, she was aware that the guests’ safety, comfort and happiness all depended on her – and at such an emotionally charged time of year too. However, glancing round at them all, having a whale of a time, she could relax on that score. Her main worry now was how soon the flamenco people would turn up.

‘Hello! Sorry I’m late. Fell asleep.’ Amber appeared in the doorway, dressed in a purple sequinned jumpsuit. ‘You look like you’re all—’ She stopped mid-sentence and her face drained of colour.

Her eyes had locked with those of Suzanne, who was clutching her glass tightly. Everyone stared at them and then they both said in perfect unison: ‘ What the bloody hell are you doing here? ’