‘We’ll be eating in twenty minutes,’ Linda interjects, ‘and I’ve never met a dog who doesn’t like chicken. He’ll be fine. Sarah, you can take the car to the supermarket tomorrow and get what you need.’
Agreeing to wait until morning, we all sit down to eat the slightly strange but nonetheless delicious buffet Linda lays out for us. A large rotisserie chicken, cold potato salad, a nut roast with a salsa sauce, sweet potatoes, a bowl filled with rice and black-eyed beans, full-sized sausages wrapped in bacon, and a sweet curry sauce which looks like vomit but tastes surprisingly good.
‘We’ve missed having a dog around here,’ Stephen begins, placing some chicken and rice in a bowl for Alfie. ‘We had a German Shepherd years ago. . . remember Lennon, Sarah. Used to sleep beside your bed.’
Sarah nods. ‘I remember he ate every single left slipper I ever owned.’
Alfie laughs, his chin covered in curry sauce.
‘I thought about getting another, but with me in this thing now, it would be too much for Linda to deal with.’
‘Nonsense,’ Linda replies, ‘you have limited mobility, not quadriplegia. We could get one of those tiny dogs. I could carry it in my shoulder bag and give it a stupid haircut. Ooh, that might be fun!’
I laugh and take another bite of my sweet potato. Despite my initial reservations, I’m warming to this family quickly. They’re utterly mad.
The next morning, Linda offers to walk Spot while Sarah, Alfie and I take a drive to nearby market town Cirencester to get supplies. I only intend on staying one more night, but I need a change of clothes given that I’m forced to wear one of Stephen’s brown wool jumpers. My blood-spattered T-shirt has been assessed by Linda, deemed unsalvageable and binned.
‘We’ve missed the Christmas market,’ Sarah informs me as she parks the car, ‘but the farmers’ market should be on and maybe some craft stalls?’
‘I thought we were going to Tesco or Waitrose or something?’
‘We will,’ she replies, helping Alfie straighten his winter hat, ‘but I thought Alfie might like to see the Christmas lights. Maybe grab a bite to eat?’
‘You mean this trip isn’t all about me?’ I grin, feeling a tad foolish. ‘That sounds fun, actually.’
We walk through the car park towards Market Place, where the buildings line the streets in a terribly civilised, uniform manner and every shop appears to have a home above it. No seven-hundred-foot-tall department stores towering overhead or scaffolding from the next office block in construction – just clean, pretty buildings, lining clean, pretty streets, currently dusted with a fine layer of powdery-looking snow.
Turning into Market Place, I understand why Sarah wanted to bring us here. The festive decorations alone are well worth the visit, even during the day. Huge strings of lights hang overhead while the remarkable Christmas tree stands in front of the charming parish church, with the festive stalls nearby already bustling with customers.
‘So, are we on a date?’ I ask Sarah, while Alfie investigates the brass band playing ‘Jingle Bells’. ‘It kind of feels like a date.’
She links her arm in mine and sighs. ‘I don’t tend to date men who dress like my dad. . .Alfie, don’t touch the nice man’s trombone!’
I laugh as she runs to retrieve Alfie, thinking that Matt was wrong about ice skating being the perfect romantic date, because this is about as perfect as it gets.
‘Let’s get a hot drink,’ Sarah suggests, pulling Alfie back by the sleeve. ‘Maybe some food?’
‘Sounds good,’ I reply. ‘I’m pretty sure I smell doughnuts. Alfie, what do you think?’
Alfie, known for his tendency to run wildly towards the mere mention of a food stall, gets in between Sarah and me, taking both of our hands. I don’t even care that he’s holding my cast, it’s adorable. As Sarah and I glance at each other and smile, it happens; my heart finally bursts.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
A heavy overnight snowfall means that my initial plan to return to London to spend Christmas with Matt and his family isn’t going to happen. I can’t say I’m entirely disappointed. Despite the fact I’m now dressed head-to-toe in the supermarket’s basic joggers and jumpers range, I’m having a bloody ball. Between sightseeing, finding new places for Spot to explore and rampant over-the-clothes touching when Alfie’s not around, I’m in no hurry to tear myself away.
‘But you have to come back, mate,’ Matt insists, his face freezing as our video call connection drops out for a second. ‘It’s Christmas Eve. Mum’s bought you some driving gloves.’
‘Don’t make me feel bad,’ I reply, wondering why his mum suddenly thinks I own a car. ‘You know I feel shit as it is, but they’ve cancelled all the trains. Anyway, isn’t Karen going with you?’
‘Nah, she’s seeing her own family,’ he replies before his face wrinkles with unease. ‘Um, I haven’t exactly told them we’re back together yet. . .’
‘Wow!’ I laugh as the screen freezes again. He looks like a puzzled baby. ‘That’ll be an interesting conversation.’
He laughs. ‘Not as interesting as the one where I tell them you’re blowing them off to spend Christmas with my ex-girlfriend. . .’
‘True.’
‘. . . or the one where I explain why I have a black eye.’
