Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“Stay? At your house?”
“Sure, why not?” He shrugs. “It’s Christmas, and Albi’s quite fond of you. But not your gnomes. They stay here. And your cat.”
I laugh, and Mr. Percival chuckles too. “He loved the Spitfire,” I say, smiling wide. “And he’d love to see you too.”
His chest puffs out. “Ah, well, if it’s the little fella we’re aiming to please, then I will graciously accept your offer.”
“Good.” Dec nods sharply and casts his eye around the kitchen. “Suppose I ought to load the car.”
* * *
Mr. Percival can’t believe his eyes when we pull up outside Dec’s house. “Oh, you’re one of those posh sorts, aren’t you? I should have known.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dec asks over a laugh as he helps him out of the car.
“Well, the car, the heroics, the fancy clothes.”
“I still don’t know what it’s supposed to mean.” Dec looks at me in exasperation, and I grin, looping my arms through Mr. Percival’s.
“There’s quite a few steps.”
“I’ll manage.”
He does, but it takes a full ten minutes to climb them until we’re at the front door. April swings it open. “Oh, well, who is this then?”
“I might ask the same,” Mr. Percival says.
“I’m April, Dec’s sister. And this is my husband, Blaine.”
“Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise.” Mr. Percival hobbles through the door. “Now, this is all very lovely, but we all know I’m not here for you lot.” He’s a liar. He’s totally here for me too. “Where’s the alcohol and the kid?”
“Mr. Percival!” Albi dashes toward him, nearly taking the old guy off his feet when he comes in from the side and hugs his thigh. “I’ve been flying the Spitfire!”
“Oh, now, there’s a story for me to tell you,” he says, shuffling onward with Albi clinging to the side of his walking frame. “Crash-landed in enemy territory, I did.”
“Oh my gosh.”
“That’s what I said when I come round. Maybe a little more colourful.” They disappear into the lounge together. “But that’s not for your ears, kid.”
April and Blaine both cock their heads in question at us. “Don’t ask,” Dec says, putting an arm around me. “But, bonus, we don’t need to cook. Blaine, give me a hand getting dinner out the car. And lunch. And supper. And sandwiches for the next month.”
I laugh as they head out to unload, and April catches me off guard and hauls me into her body, cuddling me hard. “I’m sorry about your mum.”
I welcome her hug, wrapping my arms around her too. “It’s okay. She’s at peace.” I pull out and smile. “I think she waited for me to find Dec.”
Her lips press together. It’s such a romantic notion, I know that. Idealistic in the most unideal circumstances. And I’m clinging to it with everything I have.
“Do you know where Dec keeps the alcohol?” I ask.
“Yes!” She goes to a tall cabinet and pulls the doors open, revealing a well-equipped bar. “What’s his tipple?”
“Brandy.”
She hums and scans the bottles, finding it and pouring. “To the top?”
“Why not.” I take the glass and deliver it to Mr. Percival. Not that he or Albi notice me.
Mr. Percival looks like he’s in his element, and Albi’s thoroughly enchanted.
It’s the most beautiful sight. A man nearly a century old. And a little boy who’s looking at him like he’s a hero.
Because he is.
* * *
I only need to remove myself from the festivities a couple of times. Once before dinner, which was insanely good. I don’t know where Mr. Percival learned to cook, but he does it well. And generously.
And now.
Mr. Percival has Albi on his frail knee, giving him a detailed guided tour of a Spitfire Dec’s got up on Google, and all I can see is Noah on my father’s lap as Dad taught him how to play dominoes. And Mum sat at the other end of the table sewing a costume for world book day. I smile sadly at Mr. Percival and Albi, and slip my feet into Dec’s slippers, stepping outside with my wine. It’s stopped snowing, but it’ll start again soon if the forecasters are right.
My eyes naturally fall to the red Japanese Maple tree as I step through the snow, but the icicle isn’t there anymore. Odd. And neither are the other feathers that were sitting on the branch above. Not so odd, as they could have blown away. I search the snow for any holes where the icicle could have fallen but find nothing. It couldn’t have melted; it’s still below zero.
I hear the door slide open behind me and turn to find Dec stepping out. I smile when I take in his new slippers. A new pair every Christmas from April and Blaine since Albi arrived. “What are you looking for?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I point to my feet. “Does this mean I can keep these ones?”