Page 38 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘I don’t feel grown upallthe time.’ Imogen grinned, the girl’s laughter infectious. ‘And I’m notthatold.’
‘My mum got to thirty.’ Lucy said it like it was a badge of honour, and Imogen’s heart fractured.
‘I’m sorry about your mum. Your dad told me a little bit about her.’
‘He said that she will always be beautiful,’ Lucy went on. ‘That she won’t get old or get grey hairs, and that’s really sad because everyone should getallthe different bits of life, even the really hard ones when your joints ache, but whenever we think of her, we can remember how beautiful she was – inside and out.’
Imogen rubbed a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t cry at another family’s grief, but she felt every bit of tenderness in those words, the way Lucy spoke them with confidence, as if Dexter had said them to her a million times. ‘I bet she was,’ she managed. Then, remembering how the conversation had started, she added, ‘Is it going to be sad going to Sophie and Harry’s wedding without your mum there?’
Lucy shrugged and sipped her lemonade. ‘I think Dad’s going to be sad.’
‘Oh.’ Imogen swallowed. ‘Why?’
‘Because he’s lonely. He has me and Artichoke, and all his friends in the village, but he doesn’t have Mum any more, and I think he’d like the hugs again, like Sophie andHarry have, and Fiona and Ermin. He doesn’t have anyone to hug except me.’
Imogen nodded slowly. ‘Hugs are important. And how would you feel, if he had someone who he could hug? Someone for him like Harry has Sophie?’
‘I wouldn’t mind. He works really hard at the bakery, and then he works really hard looking after me. My friend Amber’s mum says everyone should have things that are just for them. So Dad should, too.’
Imogen sipped her drink. She felt like she’d walked into a minefield, and the slightest wrong step would result in a detonation. ‘He might, a bit further down the line. He might meet someone and feel like he wants to get to know them. But you’ll always be his priority, Lucy. You’re his daughter.’ Lucy unspooled more of the frosty blue ribbon. ‘Do you think he’ll be lonely at the wedding? It’s all about love, isn’t it?’
‘It is. But mostly Sophie and Harry’s love, and the love between them and their friends. All the people who are celebrating with them.’
‘And you, doing your reading.’
‘And me. I was really pleased to be asked, because I don’t know anyone here that well.’
‘You know me. And Dad. And Birdie.’
‘I’m getting to know you and your dad. And Birdie again too, really. We hadn’t spoken properly for a long time before I came here because our family is complicated.’
‘But at the wedding,’ Lucy said, tightening her ribbon into a bow without any mistletoe inside, ‘can you look after Dad for me?’
Imogen sucked in a breath, both at the question and how grown up it was.
‘I’ve got to be a flower girl with Artichoke, and that’s an important job, so I’m going to be really busy. Dad will be on his own, so could you look after him while I can’t?’
‘I mean … I think that I might …’ She stopped herself. Her reading was short, and wouldn’t take her away from the congregation for long. Her concern was more that she could picture Dexter’s butterscotch eyes whenever she closed hers, and his kind smile, and she couldn’t forget what Nikki had said, about her heart swelling whenever she spoke about him. She wasn’t sure where her feelings were taking her, and that scared her. But she could hardly deny a ten-year-old a request that, to her, was very straightforward; a girl who was still grieving her mum and worried about her dad. Imogen would just have to put her own feelings aside, and she was generally good at looking after other people, making sure they were OK.
‘Of course I’ll look after your dad,’ she said. ‘Now, we’d better crack on, or the only place on Saturday that won’t have any mistletoe will be Sophie and Harry’s wedding, and considering he accidentally ordered an entire truck-load and we gave the rest of it away, I don’t think that’ll be the best outcome.’
Lucy giggled, her sheen of seriousness lifting now she didn’t need to worry about her dad anymore. ‘If there’s no mistletoe, how will Sophie and Harry kiss at the end?’
‘How indeed?’ Imogen said, and she and Lucy shared a smile.
Chapter Fifteen
Walking up to Mistingham Manor with Dexter on one side of her, Lucy and Artichoke on the other, Imogen felt unbearably nervous and also like an imposter. They were getting there early because they had roles in the wedding party, but Fiona and Ermin were just ahead of them, with their mini schnauzer Poppet, and Imogen thought that, actually, most of the village residents were part of the inner circle. Maybe Mistingham didn’t have an outer circle? Maybe it was one big family.
‘I recognize this handiwork.’ Dexter pointed to one of the mistletoe bunches hanging from the trees on either side of the long driveway. It was a cold, bright day, the sky a pale, perfect blue, the best you could hope for in the last weekend of November. ‘This is you two, isn’t it? The extra stuff you put up the last couple of days?’
‘You recognize the ribbon, Dad.’ Lucy said it in the weary tone she adopted when she thought an adult was beingparticularly obtuse. ‘Anyway, they’re not a crafting miracle, just twigs tied up with ribbon.’
‘Hey!’ Imogen laughed. ‘We worked hard on those. Don’t downplay our achievements.’
‘OK.’ Lucy peered around Imogen and said, ‘It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Dad. I hope you appreciate it. I should probably get some sort of reward.’
Dexter laughed and bumped his shoulder against Imogen’s. ‘We’re never going to win.’
