Page 84 of Escape for Christmas
Brody started to jog after him, slipping in the slush in his wellies. He reached the gate that opened from the footpath to Sunnyside’s garden just in time to see Harold slip inside the rear door to Sophie’s flat, which was slightly ajar to let the smell of frying bacon out.
‘Sh-h-hit …’ Brody muttered, breaking into a run.
He reached the open back door.
‘Oh, Harold! No!’
He marched inside to find chaos. A tray of sausages was scattered on the floor, with Harold happily hoovering them up. Muddy paw-prints were smeared all over the tiles.
‘Oh God,’ Brody muttered, before grabbing Harold’s collar.’ I’m sorry! Harold, you so should not be in here.’
Sophie’s hair was piled messily on her head, her cheeks were red and her apron was smeared with tomato ketchup. She’d never looked more beautiful or more stressed out.
‘You can’t blame the dog,’ she said sharply, implying that she very much blamed Brody, as his owner.
‘He must have been attracted by the smell,’ Brody said, holding on to Harold for grim death. ‘He ran off. It’s my fault for not keeping him under control. Harold!’ Brody tightened the lead as the Labrador lunged for another sausage. ‘I’m so sorry about the mess. I’ll take him outside, and I’ll pay for the sausages,’ he said, knowing the offer sounded ridiculous, yet desperate to help in some way.
He shooed Harold out of the back door and into the porch. ‘Now stay there!’ he said sternly. Harold settled down on the mat in the porch. ‘Here, have this.’ He gave the Labrador a rawhide bone from his coat pocket. It was wrong to reward the dog for pinching food, but he wanted to make it up to Sophie. ‘I’ll be back for you – you reprobate,’ he said, wagging a finger.
Back in the kitchen, Sophie was tipping the sausages into the bin.
‘Was that someone’s breakfast?’ he asked. ‘I mean, obviously it was someone’s breakfast.’
‘Well, yes. They were for Amber, Suzanne and Agatha.’
‘And Nico?’ he asked.
Sophie frowned. ‘Nico had a continental breakfast, because he wanted to go out early to take some photos. Anyway you really don’t have to pay for the sausages. I’ll offer the others extra eggs and mushrooms. I’m sure they won’t mind. After the other catastrophes, a few missing sausages won’t make much difference at this point.’
‘Even so, I feel responsible.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘For the sausages?’
For everything, he thought.
She looked away. ‘I have to get on with the breakfast. Hugo and Una went for a stroll, but they’ll be back any minute. Amber’s waiting for hers, and I need to explain.’
Brody heard barking outside the back door, yet he couldn’t leave.
‘I know this is terrible timing, but I really need to talk to you.’
‘You’re right. You’ve picked the worst time, and I don’t see what we have to talk about. Please, let me get the breakfasts. Ricky was meant to come, but he has the flu, so I’m on my own.’ She picked up a frying pan.
‘I can help. I can fry some bacon.’
‘No, really. There’s no need.’
‘I have to do something.’
‘For you or for me?’ she asked. Brody thought that Sophie knew him far too well.
‘Both. Where’s the bacon? In the fridge? You go and talk to your guests.’
Sophie let out a sigh of exasperation, then said, ‘If you really want to help, you can clean the kitchen floor. The mop and bucket are in the scullery. I’ll sort out the breakfast.’
Brody found them and set about erasing the evidence of Harold’s sausage raid. Sophie came back from speaking to the guests and started frying bacon.
Having come out with Harold first thing, before having any breakfast himself, Brody’s mouth watered at the aroma of frying bacon and at the sizzle of the pan. Ignoring his hunger pains, he finished the floor, checked on Harold – who was happily eating his bone – and went back into the kitchen.
