Just for Christmas - Emily Harvale Page 0,14

involved.

Yet Molly felt involved. She wanted to hug Chance and his mum and tell them both everything would be fine.

And it would.

Cancer terrified everybody. For good reason in many cases. But so many people were beating it these days. Vicky Warren would be one of those. Molly was sure of it.

‘It’s Christmas, Chance. And Christmas is a time for miracles.’

He smiled at her. ‘I hope you’re right.’

Miracle let out a sudden bark, almost as if he agreed. And then he peed again on the Christmas tree that Chance had just brought back to life.

Clearly, some miracles were better than others.

Seven

‘Molly!’

Vicky Warren beamed at Molly and stretched out her arms for a hug, but Molly stepped away.

‘I’m covered from head to foot in snow, Mrs Warren. It’s really coming down out there.’

‘Oh Pah. I don’t care about that.’ She pulled Molly into a tight embrace.

‘Mum,’ Chance said. ‘I think Molly may be having trouble breathing. You don’t know your own strength.’

He was only joking but Molly was glad when Vicky released her. The woman did have the grip of a vice even if she looked more like a twig. She had definitely lost weight since the last time Molly had seen her and her porcelain skin had a slightly sallow tinge.

But she still looked beautiful. Her hair was now short and spiky in place of the once shoulder length bob and the glorious chestnut colour had turned a silvery grey. She obviously no longer had it coloured, but it suited her. She had elfin features, unlike Chance, but he had inherited her stunningly blue eyes. She was shorter than Chance by about six inches: the same as Molly in fact, but she held herself with an almost Regal air which somehow made her seem taller.

‘You’re looking gorgeous, as always,’ Vicky said, unperturbed. ‘I was so pleased when Chance said you were going to be staying with us for a while. And how kind of you to take in a stray dog. But then you always had a kind heart. It’s such a shame Sarah is allergic. But their loss is our gain. And this must be the terror in question.’

‘Thank you so much for having me. You’re looking gorgeous too. That hair colour and style really suit you. And yes. This is Miracle.’

Vicky turned her attention to Miracle who was sitting beside Molly giving Beauty, Vicky’s Olde English Sheepdog a look as if he was wondering whether Beauty was a dog or a rug.

Molly hoped Miracle didn’t suddenly decide to pee on Beauty. Or try to eat her as he had the ham. Or rip her to shreds like he had the presents.

‘Hello, you handsome boy.’ Vicky bent down to pet him. ‘Yes, you’re a handsome boy. Yes, you are.’

Molly lifted her gaze from Vicky to Chance and met his eyes, returning the smile he was giving her.

‘We think you should know that he seems to have a bit of a thing for trees,’ Chance told his mum. ‘Christmas trees in particular.’

‘And hide the ham if you have any,’ Molly added, laughing. ‘He’s rather partial to that, too.’

‘And presents,’ Chance said. ‘So basically, we’ll need to keep a close eye on him.’

‘He looks quite young.’ Vicky continued to pet Miracle.

‘Asher, the vet I took him to, thinks he’s about two,’ Molly said.

‘Ah yes. The terrible twos.’ Miracle nuzzled closer to Vicky. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

‘Isn’t that for children?’ Molly queried.

Vicky grinned and shrugged. ‘He’s so lovable. If he’s a stray he’s possibly just trying to get attention. Some people say it’s seven human years to every dog year, so that would make him a teenager. Teenagers are always trouble. Apart from you darling, of course.’ She smiled at Chance. ‘You were no trouble at all. I was the one who was playing up.’

Chance coughed as if he didn’t want to go there. ‘I’ll make us some tea.’ He deposited Molly’s case at the foot of the stairs.

‘I’m sure Molly would prefer a glass of wine, darling.’

‘No.’ Molly may have said that too hastily. She knew about Vicky’s history. She’d seen the woman drunk on more than one occasion, many years ago. ‘Tea’s great.’

Vicky smiled. ‘It’s fine, Molly. I honestly don’t mind. I never liked wine anyway. I was a Scotch kind of girl. I bought some wine for my friends as it’s Christmas, so there’re are some bottles in the cupboard.’

‘Thanks, Mrs Warren, but I’d prefer a cup of tea.’

Chance threw her a grateful smile and wandered off towards