Christmas at Snowflake Lodge

3. Second Thoughts-3

Their afternoon appointment finished just before three. They had another booking at eight p.m. at an old house on the outskirts of the city which was being used as a TV drama location. Apparently, a crew party had gotten a bit rowdy and someone had flushed a handful of historic coins down the toilet. Stuck somewhere in the ancient pipe, the producers were keen to get it fixed before the house owners or the rest of the cast found out. With a few hours to kill, however, Jessica couldn’t face going home, so instead she dropped Kirsten off outside the Waterstones bookshop in the town centre and then headed over to her parents’ place in Clifton.

She found her mother packing a suitcase in the front room.

‘Dear, do you think the green fake fur or the red fake fur?’

Jessica shrugged. ‘How cold are the fjords likely to be in December? Perhaps you should take both.’

Emilia patted her on the arm. ‘What a grand idea. Of course. I’ll have to pay for extra baggage, but it’s more about the convenience than the cost, isn’t it?’

Jessica couldn’t help but smile. ‘Perhaps you should hire a little Christmas elf to help you carry it?’

‘Do you think I could order one online?’ Emilia said, without either batting an eyelid or looking up. ‘I imagine they’ll be busy around this time of year.’

Jessica gave a little sigh and shrugged. ‘Oh, I’m sure you could.’

‘Your father’s in the garden,’ Emilia said, the hint so lacking subtlety that had it come with a glowing neon sign it couldn’t have been more obvious. ‘He’s worried about his seed beds in the frost. Why don’t you go and reassure him? I’ll just finish up here, then we’ll have afternoon tea.’

‘Sure, sounds nice.’

Jessica looked around as she headed out of the living room and down the hall to the wide kitchen. Three floors of Bristol’s most elegant Edwardian architecture, high ceilings and airy, well-lit rooms, all renovated and modernised in exactly the way her parents had wanted. And every single corner of it paid for by Grandpa’s fortune.

Dad was where Mum had said, down by the back of their long, leafy garden, standing by a freshly dug flowerbed that had probably been turned over by Reg, the gardener, rather than Dad, who preferred to inspect rather than get his hands dirty. To Jessica’s surprise, he was wearing a pair of gardening gloves, standing with his hands on his hips, an empty wheelbarrow beside him.

‘Hi, Dad, what are you doing?’

‘Oh, hello, love. Great to see you. I was just wondering whether to cover this over with a sheet to keep the leaves off, or just leave it.’

Jessica just shrugged. ‘A big decision, I’m sure.’

‘Well, once we’re on that ship there will be a lot of distractions. I’ve told Reg to just do as he sees fit, but I like to be around just in case.’

‘Sure, Dad.’

Benjamin looked up. ‘Have you thought any more about what I asked you?’

‘You mean, rushing off to Scotland to bring my fugitive grandfather to justice?’

‘I got another postcard the other day,’ Benjamin said. ‘Apparently he’s got a new girlfriend. Some floozy he met on Tinder. Do you think he’ll marry her? That could really screw the inheritance. It was a lucky escape with Mavis, don’t you know.’

Jessica grimaced. ‘You know, not everything in life is about Grandpa’s money—’

‘It’s your inheritance too.’

Before Jessica could construct a reply that would both appease her father while emphasising that she had no intention of spending her life living off her grandfather’s fortune in the same way her parents did, Emilia appeared on the back porch with a tray of tea and biscuits.

‘Oh, Benjamin! Jessica! I’ve finished packing … I think. How about a little celebration?’

‘Oh, delightful,’ Benjamin said. ‘Did you go with the yellow jacket in the end?’

Emilia’s face darkened. ‘The yellow? You think I should go with the yellow?’

‘I was just thinking about the matinees, dear,’ Benjamin said. ‘It would so fit with the décor we saw in those photographs.’

Emilia almost dropped the tray. ‘I’d better go and check,’ she said, rushing back into the house.

Benjamin pulled off his gloves. ‘Okay, tea time. I’m famished. I wonder what Dillingtons has delivered this time? They do the best afternoon tea deliveries. You really should think about a subscription.’

Jessica could only imagine what Doreen would think of her parents’ subscription to an afternoon tea delivery service. She’d probably ask for a reduction on the rent.

‘Actually, Dad, I’d better be off,’ Jessica said. ‘I just stopped by to see how you were getting on. I have a job this evening.’

Benjamin gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘Jess … you know you don’t have to work, don’t you? And such a dirty profession. If you really insist on having a job, couldn’t you be a secretary or something?’

Jessica needed to leave before she screamed loud enough to have the neighbours calling the police. She eased away from Dad and started up the path.

‘If I don’t see you before, have a good cruise,’ she said.

‘Think about what I said,’ Benjamin said, frowning at the flowerbed as though he had caught it playing pranks in the night. ‘I’m so worried about Grandpa, I really wish you’d go up and check on him. Go on, just take December off. It won’t hurt. The estate will spot you if you need any money.’

Jessica cringed at the thought. ‘I don’t want to let my clients down.’

‘Well, do as you will. But if you decide not to go, could you be a love and stop in every couple of days just to check on the house and make sure Reg doesn’t do anything too dramatic to my garden?’

Jessica held her breath, wondering how long she would need to do it before she passed out. The old Catch 22. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

‘I’d better be going, Dad,’ she said, even as from somewhere inside the house came Emilia’s piercing cry, ‘Or do you think the blue sash would be better?’