‘He does?’
‘If he didn’t, he would do this.’ Hugo put his nose in the air, gave a disdainful sniff and turned his head away.
Sophie giggled and reached out to stroke the dog. To her surprise his abundant black fur was very soft and as fluffy as it looked, and she ran her fingers through it, much to the dog’s delight.
‘After hospital, I won’t be able to walk him. He needs his… er… hair… er…’ Hugo mimicked brushing his own hair.
‘Ah, he’ll need grooming?’
‘Sí. Every day. The hair, it is everywhere.’
‘I’m happy to walk him and groom him,’ she said. ‘Are there any other duties?’
‘Making food, washing clothes, cleaning.’
She nodded again. ‘I can do all that. What about you? Will you need any help?’
Hugo grimaced. ‘No, I will dress and wash myself. I will not need help for me, just for the house and the dog.’
Sophie took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. ‘I can do that.’
‘I can only offer a small wage, and only for two or three months,’ he warned.
‘That’s fine, if accommodation is included.’
‘It is. And food.’
‘Great!’
Hugo struggled to his feet and Sophie watched him, knowing instinctively that he wouldn’t want her help, no matter how much he needed it. If he did take her on, she’d have to be subtle about any attempts to make his life easier for him.
‘You still want the job?’ he asked.
‘Yes, please!’ She was shocked at how much she did want it. The wanting was almost a physical thing, a deep need, and it made her heart flutter and pound.
‘Take a look around before you say yes. You might want to say no.’
Sophie cocked her head. ‘Oh?’ Please, please don’t tell me there’s only one bedroom, she prayed.
‘The house, I have only a little TV, and no internet. It is not like a hotel room.’
‘I didn’t expect it to be,’ she said. ‘This is a home, your home.’
‘Go look; then tell me what you decide.’
Sophie looked.
It was perfect; rustic and basic, but perfect. Exactly as she imagined it, even down to the dark wood that was so prevalent in Canarian homes she’d seen on travel programmes on TV. There was an open fireplace in the living room and each of the three bedrooms had a bed, a wardrobe and bedside table. One bedroom was clearly occupied by Hugo and she glanced idly at a photo of him with his arm slung around the shoulders of a younger man. His son, perhaps? Whoever he was, the man was remarkably good-looking.
Feeling as though she was snooping, she had a quick look in the only other room she hadn’t explored, and saw that the kitchen held freestanding cabinets, a sink, a cooker and a fridge. It might not be the most modern kitchen she’d seen, but at first glance it had everything she needed.
She had a good feeling about the place, as if it was welcoming her.
When she wandered back into the room with the marvellous view, she felt as though she was coming home.
She made her decision.
Chapter 6
Sophie eyed the couple sitting next to her on the plane as she settled back in her seat and buckled up. They wore resigned expressions along with their tans and summer clothes. Sophie, fearing that the early winter weather in the UK wouldn’t be kind, had worn a lightweight, long-sleeved top, jeans, and trainers with warm socks. She currently had a fleece draped around her shoulders – because the inside of the aircraft was cooler than the departure lounge had been, as if the plane was trying to acclimatise its passengers – and she’d placed a coat in the overhead locker.
Once they were airborne, she retrieved a small pad and a pen from her bag and began to make lists. Several of them. It kept her occupied during the four-hour flight and calmed her churning thoughts. She’d always been a list-maker, ever since she was young. It seemed as though the act of putting things down on paper served to tidy things up in her mind and helped her focus, and right now she needed all the focus she could lay her hands on.
Satisfied that she had done as much as she was able to while being jetted through the air at close to six hundred miles an hour, and without the benefit of an internet connection, she put her pad with its invaluable lists away, and went to sleep. The next few days were going to be busy, and she needed all the rest she could get.
However, rest was the last thing on her mind as she collected her little car from the airport car park and drove home.
Home. What an evocative word that was, especially when she technically didn’t have one. Although there wasn’t a letter from the council waiting on the mat advising her of her need to vacate the property (her home, her mother’s home) by a certain date, she knew its arrival was only a matter of time. How much time, she had had no idea.
After dumping her case in her bedroom and shoving a load of dirty clothes in the washing machine, Sophie rooted around in the freezer for something to pop in the oven. The sight of a dish filled with chicken casserole brought a lump to her throat as she realised that her mum had still been alive when she had prepared and frozen it. She used to do that a lot – cook batches of food when she had the chance, then freeze them – because she never knew what might tempt her mum, or whether she’d need to grab a meal quickly and race back to the hospital. Dashing away fresh tears (would this crying never end?), she retrieved the casserole from the freezer and switched the microwave on, making a mental note that she needed to use up as much of the food in the freezer as she could before she left. It seemed a shame to waste it… Maybe Aunty Anne could use some of it?
As she was eating, her phone rang. That was another thing she needed to add to her list – getting the house phone disconnected.
‘You’re back!’ her aunt shrieked, before Sophie had a chance to say hello. ‘I hoped you would be.’
‘I am. I got in about an hour ago.’ She was smiling as she said it – her aunt had clearly missed her. But abruptly her smile faded. Oh dear, Anne wasn’t going to like her news very much if this was how she reacted to her being away for only two weeks.
‘The twins are here! Sophie, did you hear what I said? Denise has had the babies. They’re three weeks early but they’re here and they’re perfect.’
‘That’s wonderful news. How is Denise, and what do the boys think of their new sisters?’
‘She’s good. Sore obviously and tired, but everyone is fine. The boys…? Hmm, you know what teenagers are like. They haven’t taken a great deal of notice, if I’m honest. How was your holiday?’
‘Great. More than great—’
‘They might let her out tomorrow, fingers crossed.’ Her aunt clearly had more important things on her mind than hearing about Sophie’s holiday.
‘Can I pop round in the morning?’ Sophie asked, determined to tell her about her plans as soon as possible.
Anne sounded doubtful. ‘Denise might not be home until the afternoon, and I don’t think she’ll be up to visitors for a few days.’
‘I meant pop round to see you?’
‘Of course you can, but it mightn’t be for long if Joe fetches her and the babies home, because she’ll need me there to help with everything.’