Page 186 of Every Silent Lie

“My mum’s gone,” I say, clear and concise, feeling an odd sense of peace come over me.

“Shit, no, Camryn, I?—”

“I’m okay,” I say, quick to reassure him. “I’m really okay, Dec. She—” Yes, I’m okay, but I still need to swallow to keep my voice even. “She waited for me to find you and Albi,” I say, losing my battle not to let my voice crack. I drop to my arse on the step, immune to the cold radiating immediately through my coat and jeans. “She didn’t want to go until she knew I’d be okay.”

“I’m on my way,” he says, breathless. He’s already running to the door. “I’m coming. Don’t move, okay?”

I nod and end the call, and sit in the snow, staring at the millions of snowflakes floating calmly from the sky.

* * *

Given the weather, despite his Defender technically a farmer’s car built for the rough terrain and snow, I didn’t expect Dec to get here so fast. He must have broken all speed limits. He half skids half slides to a stop and jumps out, and I smile at the sight of him.

In his sweatpants, a hoodie, and his slippers.

I stand as he jogs over and walk straight into his open arms. The floodgates open again because he’s here. I cry into his chest, body-racking, gut-wrenching sobs, as he holds me, rubs my back, hushes me.

Taking care of me.

I let it all come out, a good hard cry, until I’m sure his sweater is drenched. “I’m okay,” I murmur, sniffing and pulling away, cheeking his hoodie. Dark patches are dotted here and there, smears of tears and snot. I cringe and try to wipe it away.

“Shut up,” he breathes, tipping my head up with a fingertip under my chin.

“I’m okay,” I say again, more weight gone, probably from the evacuation of tears. “She was peaceful. They tried to wake her, but she was gone.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Just keep doing you,” I say, reaching for his face. “Just keep being wonderfully you.”

He nods and reclaims me, keeping me wrapped completely in his arms. “You’re cold,” I whisper, forcing him back.

“I’m never cold when you’re close.” He curls an arm around my shoulders, walking me to the car and getting me inside. He buckles me in and drops a chaste kiss on my lips before he closes the door. The moment he’s in the driver’s seat, he whacks the heat up.

“Can we do something quickly before we go home?” I ask.

“Anything you want.”

* * *

I bypass my front door and knock on Mr. Percival’s, treading the carpet impatiently as Dec joins me. I hear his walking frame coming down the hallway, and the moment he gets the door open, I smile at him. “Look at you,” I say, taking in his fine tweed suit, that’s probably nearly as old as he is. “Happy Christmas, Mr. Percival.”

“What a surprise,” he says, hobbling back. “Come in, come in, I have treats in case I have visitors.”

In case he has visitors? Oh, Mr. Percival. I reach back for Dec’s hand and pull him inside. “What are you doing today, Mr. Percival?”

“Well, I’ll be eating and drinking for England, as folk tend to do on Christmas Day, I’ll watch the King’s speech at three, and I’ll be taking all the leftovers to the Royal British Legion after I’ve had a nap.”

“There’s been a change to your schedule,” I say, passing him and going into the kitchen, where there’s not a square inch of work surface not taken up with some kind of dish, pan, plate, or bowl.

Or Gnome.

“There has?”

“Yes, you’re spending Christmas with us.”

“But what about all the food I’ve prepared? I can’t let it go to waste.”

“We’ll take it,” Dec declares. I glance at him, surprised. “I’ve not even peeled a carrot yet.”