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If Grace had believed in alien abduction and replacement with replicants, then that would’ve been her answer. But she didn’t. And besides, Griff had looked and smelt far too good to ever be a humanoid.
Something had changed though. He had changed. What was it he had said?
“This is the real me, Grace. What you see is what you get.” That too, had set her nerves jingling – but in a good way. In an exciting way. And Grace had liked what she had seen. She couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to ‘get’ Griff Betancourt.
A thought that concerned her far more than it should have as she hurried home to tell her parents of the task ahead. Not only were they organising the Mistletoe Dance, they were also decorating Betancourt in time for Christmas Eve.
Four
‘You’rebackquickly?’Hopesaid, as Grace dashed into the kitchen, having thrown off her coat, hat and scarf, and tossed the umbrella to the floor in the hall. ‘What happened?’
‘I’m not entirely sure,’ Grace replied honestly, now kicking off her boots. ‘But I think we all need to sit down.’
‘We’re about to leave,’ Pat said. ‘Is everything all right, darling? You look rather flustered. Have you been running?’
Grace shook her head, pulled out a chair and dropped onto the seat. ‘When Bianca first called you this morning, did she mention that, in addition to organising the Mistletoe Dance, she wants us to decorate Betancourt for the festive season?’
Hope, Pat and Simon all exchanged glances, and Pat pulled out a chair and sat down.
‘No. Although I believe she did say something about festive decorations,’ Pat said.
Hope sat too. ‘She said that we would be required to add festive decorations. I assumed she meant in and around the Great Hall and the dining room. I think we all did. Are you saying that she expects us to decorate the entire house for Christmas?’
Grace nodded. ‘Yep. That’s exactly what I’m saying.’
Now Simon sat and blew out a long breath. ‘There is no way we can do that. There aren’t enough hours in the day. Even if we had no other events at all, it would still be a mammoth task in the time left.’
‘I know. That’s what I told them.’
‘Not to mention the fact that we don’t have enough decorations,’ said Pat.
‘I know that too. But Griff said we can hire all the help we need and buy or hire all the decorations we don’t have. Cost is no object. He even offered the staff at Betancourt’s services. And he said he’d help as well!’ Grace’s voice was growing an octave higher with each sentence she spoke.
‘Wait,’ said Hope, her brows furrowed. ‘Griff was there?’
Grace nodded again. ‘Yes. And it gets worse.’
‘How much worse can it possibly get?’ asked Pat.
‘It wasn’t Russell who suggested us to Bianca. It was Griff.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Hope. ‘Yes. I can see how you would think that was worse.’
Grace decided not to tell them the effect Griff’s presence had had on her.
‘Well?’ she said. ‘What are we going to do? I … I’ve sort of agreed to it. But I did say it would cost far more than we had estimated. You haven’t emailed the invoice yet have you?’
‘No. I was going to,’ said Hope, ‘but minutes after you left, we had another surprise and we’ve all been trying to sort that out.’
‘What was that? Not another new client? Because as much as I love the prospect of our business growing, I couldn’t cope with more events right now.’ Grace slumped back against the chair.
‘Granny Joy is coming to stay,’ Hope said.
‘When? For Christmas Day and night, like last year? I know it was a bit of a disaster but I love Granny Joy.’
Last Christmas Granny Joy had stayed for one night. By the following morning she had emptied everyone’s wallets after an evening of Poker and other card games, all of which she had won. She had told the same stories over and over and over. Drunk an entire bottle of champagne herself, and a bottle of white wine. Dressed Lady E as an elf, and posted several photos on Instagram and TikTok together with several videos of her and the family dancing to a selection of Christmas songs. Set fire to the curtains and not just the Christmas pudding. And on top of that, she had thought she was at home and had bolted the front door at midnight, forgetting Simon had taken the rubbish out. He was only wearing his Christmas PJs and it was snowing. After freezing for fifteen minutes and trying every door and window, he eventually resorted to waking Freddie Tollard who had just gone to bed, and borrowing the phone, to call Pat. Naturally, Freddie’s daughter, Charlie had found it hilarious and had posted a photo of Simon in his PJs, on all her social media accounts.
‘As do we all,’ said Hope. ‘But more so in small doses. Two or three weeks under the same roof might make me love her a little less.’
