Time to prove my sensible credentials, however shaky they currently felt.
‘Okay, well, where did you last see them?’
I was doubtful any four-year-old would have remained in the same place for this long, but it was a start.
‘I was trying to get some work done in the little office downstairs – I design greetings cards and personalised wall art so you can imagine how frightfully busy I am at the moment putting the finishing touches to Christmas commissions – and they were playing in the passage outside. I suddenly realised it had gone quiet, but I don’t know how long that had been. I do get very absorbed, you see.’
‘Let’s start there.’
We strode back to the house, calling the twins’ names, and Bunny led me in through a back door to a tiled boot room. It was about the size of my living room, lined with shelves and cabinets which were only sparsely populated with a few coats and items of footwear.
‘Lando hardly uses this, such a shame, but he’s always holed up in that studio, whittling away.’
‘This is his house?’
‘Yes, oh dear, didn’t he introduce himself? I don’t know why I’m surprised, he can be tricky, especially when he’s working. Yes, that’s my brother-in-law. It’s his house, but you’d hardly know it. He only really sleeps and eats here, such a waste. Oh well, I suppose it won’t be for much longer.’
With no further explanation, she led the way out of the room into a thickly carpeted passageway with a couple of closed doors, which we passed by. Turning a corner, the corridor ended with a narrow, twisting staircase to the left and an open door in front, which I supposed led into Bunny’s workspace, as the floor outside was strewn with Lego.
‘This was their last sighting,’ she announced. ‘Oh, I do hope they’re all right.’
We stood helplessly by the colourful bricks, and I gazed up and down the corridor, hopeful that they might have left some sort of breadcrumb trail of bright plastic. No such luck. I was just about to suggest we tried their bedroom when I thought I heard something. Probably just the central heating, but there was a chance my luck was in.
‘Bunny, did you hear that?’
We listened again and were rewarded by the sound of a little giggle, coming from the staircase.
TWO
‘Oh Pixie, you are clever, they hadn’t gone very far at all.’ Bunny clapped her hands in delight. ‘Phina! Caspy! We’re coming tofindyou.’
I let out the breath I didn’t even realise I’d been holding. Not remotely clever, whatever Bunny said, but I wasn’t about to argue.
More giggles answered her singsong call, and we started up the little wooden staircase, finding the twins sitting on the small return, surrounded by a sea of colourful tin foil. Seraphina was the image of her mother, with her tumble of messy blonde hair, wide-eyed gaze and ready smile. Caspian was, I supposed, more like his father – Lando’s brother. He had brown hair, a sweet snub nose and a generous smattering of freckles. Both were liberally smeared in chocolate. Bunny let out a peal of laughter.
‘Oh, justlookat the two of you. Howdidyou find those tree decorations? I thought I’d hidden them brilliantly this year, but you’retoo, too clever.’
Seraphina broke into a matching grin.
‘Mummy, you hid them in your wardrobe, ofcoursewe found them.’
‘Of course you did, my darling. Next year I’ll have to be even more cunning, won’t I?’
Seraphina jumped up to hug her mother, who grabbed her at arm’s length before the chocolate could be transferred from the sticky hands and face to her pristine knitwear.
‘Cuddles later, gorgeous girl, let’s get you both cleaned up first. Oh! And I must introduce you. This is Pixie – she’s come to help us out while we get everything ready for Christmas and I finish my work.’
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘It’s lovely to meet you both. Do you always have chocolate for lunch? Maybe I should try it?’
Seraphina giggled, but Caspian regarded me solemnly.
‘It’s not a good idea to have it for luncheveryday, you know.’
I matched his seriousness and nodded.
‘No, you’re right. Perhaps I will save it for special occasions.’ I glanced at Bunny, unsure if I should take charge with her there. She smiled benevolently back at me and took another step away from her daughter’s sticky hands. I decided to risk it. ‘Come on, shall we tidy up these wrappers, then wash those mucky faces and hands?’
To my immense relief, no one seemed to mind my teacherly tones. We scooped up the foil and Bunny led the way downstairs and back along the corridor, through one of the doors, which led into a small, light-filled hallway. The carpet was a muted sage green and the walls painted in the palest yellow and crowded with framed vintage-style prints of the local area. A delicate console table stood against the wall bearing a huge arrangement of winter stems: spruce, bright red winterberries, eucalyptus and ivy. A glass door led out to the gardens and there was another staircase, which we went up. At the top, Bunny pushed open a door into a bathroom. As we started to usher the twins in, Caspian began crying.Uh oh. A sudden meltdown after a tummyful of chocolate means, in my experience, one thing. I felt a rush of panic as I tried to steer, rather than shove, the sobbing child into the bathroom.
