‘No, she’s too tired now. Poor Mummy, maybe we should be gooder…’
I reached across the table to squeeze their hands and looked into their dear, serious faces.
‘You are absolutely perfect as you are. Mummy’s tired because she has lots of work to do, and I’m so happy because that means I get to come and look after you. Come on, let’s go back up to the house, it’s not far off lunchtime.’
As I paid Cecil and started herding the children out of the door and back up the lane, I wondered about what the children had said. I told myself I wasn’t being nosy, just…observant. Extreme tiredness and no alcoholcouldbe down to work pressures, but could mean something else altogether, and Ben’s protracted absence began to look even more worrying.
Our walk home was jolly, with the twins recovered from their brief moment of worry and now happily discussing where on the tree they were going to put their new ornaments. As we drew nearer to the house, we saw a sleek, sporty silver car parked in front of it, which sent the children off into paroxysms of excitement.
‘Uncle Xander, Uncle Xander, he’s here!’
They dashed off up the driveway, and I broke into a trot after them, now slightly regretting the vast hot chocolate as it sloshed around in my tummy. I caught them up and took their hands as we approached.
‘Pixie, maybe you could marry him. He’s lovely, isn’t he, Cas?’
‘Maybe she’s already married.’
‘No, definitely not, are you?’
I shook my head.
‘See. You could definitely marry him, he’s fun.’
I was curious to meet this man, although obviously still firm in my nun-like intentions, but as we got up to the car and the twins broke away from me to go and knock on the window, I could see that the man inside was speaking intimately into his phone. I turned away, half laughing, half embarrassed, and saw that Lando was right behind us, and must have heard everything.
‘Looks like Xander has arrived then. He is good fun, but if it’s a husband you’re after, I’d advise looking elsewhere.’
‘I most certainly amnotlooking for a husband. Oh, and by the way, I wasn’t drinking whisky in the pub. You should stop making assumptions about people.’
We glared at each other until an indolent, amused voice cut in from behind us.
‘Merry Christmas, Lando. And you must be Pixie, Bunny mentioned that you’d be here. I’m her brother, Xander. Delighted to meet you.’
We turned to see a man standing by the car, looking slightly rumpled, smiling at us. Xander, several inches shorter than Lando with a slighter build, had dirty blond hair and an even dirtier twinkle in his eye. His obvious good humour made sure his grin stopped short of being a leer. He was good-looking, I supposed, but definitely not my type; far too foxy and knowing. Plenty of my friends, though, I knew, would enjoy a night out – or in – with Xander. As he stepped forward to hug us hello, I was enveloped not only by his arms but by a cloud of expensive cologne, which lingered on my clothes long after he broke away from me. With this cast of characters, lunch was shaping up to be another interesting experience with the Lords.
FIVE
Everybody was already assembling for lunch when we arrived, so I hustled the twins off to wash their hands and put their purchases away safely for the big tree decorating session later, then returned to the table to take our places. Pilar seemed to be superhuman: she had knocked up a delicious-smelling lunch for eight people that morning and was now calmly placing steaming dishes on the neatly laid table as if she had done no more than make a few cheese sandwiches. She beamed at Xander when she saw him and placed a particularly sumptuous bowl of golden fish stew by him.
‘Cazuela de pescado con azafrán y almendras,’ she announced. ‘One of your favourites, Señor Xander.’
He stood up and kissed her on both cheeks.
‘Gracias, Pilar, mi amor,’ he replied in what sounded to me to be perfect Spanish, then turned to the rest of us. ‘Fish casserole with saffron and almonds, utterly delectable, particularly with Pilar’s magic touch.’
I was just thinking that he was laying it on a bit thick when Bunny tugged at his hand.
‘Oh, do sit down and stop showing off,’ she said, not unkindly. She turned to me with a full eyeroll. ‘An A-level in Spanish and he thinks he’s Antonio Banderas.’
I laughed and, to give him credit, so did he.
‘Don’t pretend you’re not impressed by your brother’s language skills,’ he said, serving himself a generous amount of the casserole and tearing off a hunk of bread to accompany it.
‘Maybe if I hadn’t heard it all a billion times before. Now shut up and eat up. You need to find a girl who is less impressed by a smattering of Spanish and more impressed by the beautiful way you treat her.’
Poor Xander looked put out as everyone around the table – even Seraphina and Caspian – agreed enthusiastically.
‘I don’t know why people keep telling me to treat women well,’ he complained. ‘As if I’m some kind of cruel Lothario. Or stupid. I am perfectly aware of how wonderful they are, and just as soon as I find one who’ll have me, I intend to treat her accordingly. Forever, if she’ll let me.’
