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‘That’s true,’ said Pat, lowering her voice because her mum was asleep in an armchair beside the Aga and Lady E was curled up on her lap. ‘But what with this business with Mum now, and all the events we’ve got booked, do we need to take on one that is definitely going to be a lot harder work than any of us expected?’
‘But one where money is no object,’ said Hope. ‘I know I shouldn’t go on about the money, but we really could charge a fortune, and they’d pay it. And we’d deserve every penny. And if Granny Joy does need special care in the future, that would certainly come in handy.’
‘You’re right about that,’ said Simon. ‘Although hopefully Granny will be fine.’
‘Plus, they would feel obligated to give us a fantastic review,’ added Hope. ‘Especially after the things Russell told you.’ She grinned at Grace.
‘Some people might call that blackmail, Hope,’ Grace said, pulling a face.
‘I think you’ll find it’s called ‘quid pro quo,’ Hope said, grinning now. ‘And it’s an ancient and respected part of business.’
Pat let out one of her sighs. ‘I’m not sure we have a choice. It’s either us, or no one. We all want the Mistletoe Dance to go ahead, so I suppose we’re in. Come what may.’
‘Why can’t Griff and Russell organise it themselves?’ Simon asked. ‘They’re intelligent adults and they’re both fit and healthy.’
‘I think it’s more about style, Dad,’ said Grace. ‘Yes, they could stick up decorations, and a tree, and get someone to do the catering, but would the Great Hall look magical? Would the dining room look inviting and the refreshments almost too good to eat? Would all the guests be talking about how wonderful it was for days and weeks and months afterwards? Probably not, I think.’
‘I see your point.’ Simon nodded. ‘Well that’s that then. I think we’ve talked ourselves into it.’
‘I hope we don’t live to regret it,’ said Pat. ‘Do you want one of us to come to the pub with you? I’d better stay here with Mum, but Dad could go. Or Hope.’
‘Not unless you want to.’
‘Not me,’ said Hope. ‘There’s a series I want to watch on Netflix.’
Simon looked torn. ‘Do you need me?’
‘No. If I do I can call you.’
‘Are you going to wash your hair?’ asked Hope.
‘This isn’t a date! Why would I do that?’
Hope shrugged. ‘Because you’ve got pink goo in your hair from that party.’
Grace leapt to her feet and her hand shot to her hair. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I just did.’
Grace darted a look at the clock on the wall. It was encircled with so many twinkling lights she could hardly see the time.
‘It’s seven-thirty,’ said Hope.
‘I’m meeting him at eight!’
‘Then you’d better get a move on. Good thing the pub is just next door.’
‘Saints and sinners,’ Granny Joy piped up and then quickly nodded off again.
It took Grace less than twenty-five minutes to shower and change and put on a swipe of lipstick and a dash of mascara. She wore a long, fitted black skirt, knee high black boots and a clingy, pale blue cashmere jumper and she stepped into a fine spray of her favourite perfume before heading back downstairs.
Hope grinned at her from the kitchen sink. ‘I thought this wasn’t a date?’
‘It’s not.’ Grace’s cheeks were burning. ‘But that doesn’t mean I can’t look nice. Right. I’ll go and give Griff the good news.’
‘Is that all you’re going to give him?’
‘Oh shut up, Hope! This isn’t a date!’
