Amelia Grey's Fireside Dream Read Online Free PDF Page B

again. We could have the roaring fire I’d always dreamed of. Perhaps by Christmas we’d even be in there and ready for visitors, our presents wrapped and under the tree.
    A knock came at the door, breaking my train of thought.
    ‘Amelia,’ Jack said, ‘your mobile’s ringing.’
    I sat up and the water swooshed around me, some splashing onto the lino. ‘Do you know who it is?’
    ‘It’s your mum.’
    ‘Could you tell her I’ll call her back in a minute?’ I yelled through the door.
    I washed off the grains that seemed to have adhered to every crack and crevice in my body and pulled a fluffy towel off the radiator to dry myself. I got another one for my hair and tied it up into a turban. As I pulled on a dressing gown I could hear Jack’s voice through the door.
    ‘Hi, oh hi, Rosie,’ he said warmly. ‘Yes, she’s just in the bathroom at the moment. No, don’t worry, you’re not interrupting anything …’
    A few minutes later I padded down the carpeted corridor in my slippers to where Jack was. I peeked into the front room and saw him sitting on the sofa, watching an episode of
Game of Thrones
. I crept up behind him and planted a kiss on his head.
    ‘Hey,’ he said playfully, turning round. ‘You’re dripping all over me,’
    ‘You love it.’ I kissed him on the lips this time.
    ‘I do. I really must be a sucker,’ he replied. ‘Your mum said she was just calling for a chat.’
    ‘How was she?’
    ‘She sounded cheerful.’
    ‘OK. Right, I’m going to put some clothes on and give her a quick ring.’
    ‘Do you have to?’ he asked, snaking a hand under my towel and touching the top of my leg.
    ‘One phone call and I’m all yours,’ I said.
    I went into our bedroom and slipped on my pyjamas, chequered and so worn they were impossibly soft. They’d been a faithful companion of mine for so long that even Jack, who’d shown some resistance at first, had grown used to them.
    I picked up my mobile from the bedside table, and pressed number two, speed-dial for my mum.
    ‘Hi, Amelia,’ she said as soon as I picked up. ‘Nice bath?’
    ‘Yes, thanks,’ I said, sitting back on the bed. ‘How are things?’
    ‘Great, thanks, sweetie. Don’t know why I was worried about retiring, it’s been wonderful so far. Art class, aqua-aerobics, Pilates … my schedule’s never been fuller. And Hazelton’s such a welcoming village.’
    ‘Glad to hear it. Seems like you’re really settling in.’ I thought about telling her about the house, but then stopped myself – it was early days, and I didn’t want to jinx it.
    ‘I am. I’ve made some good friends here. Will you and Jack come and visit soon, once the holidays have started?’
    ‘Sure, Mum,’ I said, feeling a pang of guilt that we hadn’t popped in on her when we were viewing the cottages. ‘What about the weekend after next?’
    ‘Perfect,’ Mum said, her voice lifting. ‘I’ll make you a birthday cake and we can have a little celebration.’
    ‘There’s really no need.’
    ‘Darling, it’s your
thirtieth
.’
    ‘Honestly, it’s fine. But, yes, it would be good to see you.’
    We talked for a while, then said our goodbyes. I was about to get up and go back into the living room, when I thought of Dad.
    His mobile sounded a dull tone, so I called his landline. His wife, Caitlin, picked up. ‘Hi, Amelia. How are things?’
    ‘OK, thanks. Good actually. Any chance Dad is around?’
    ‘He’s out at the moment I’m afraid, love. No mobile since … well, you know. I’m all on my own this evening.’ She sounded tired and stressed. ‘And Mirabel’s off in town somewhere, left without even letting me know where … Honestly, I bet you never gave your parents this much of a headache.’
    I thought of my half-sister Mirabel over in Ireland. A sixteen-year-old whirlwind of hormones and fury. Her texts and emails were erratic, and she’d rarely reply to my messages, but we stayed in touch on Facebook. Her recent batch of