Free What Happens At Christmas... by T A Williams Page B

boots. Full price for them had been almost seven hundred pounds. Dolores had no way of knowing she hadn’t paid full whack for them, so Holly did a little gratuitous knife-twisting.
    â€˜I really must get some more shoes. These are very comfortable, but they do show the dirt.’ She had the pleasure of seeing the other girl wince.
    Outside there was smart little blue Fiat 500, presumably belonging to Dolores. Holly was delighted to see Stirling stop, cock his leg, and pee on her front wheel – but she immediately found herself wondering why Dolores annoyed her so much. Surely it couldn’t be anything to do with Jack. He so wasn’t her type.
    Mr Fleming, the electrician, was a very big man. When Holly opened the door, she found him occupying most of the door frame and she had a moment’s hesitation. Undaunted, Stirling ran up to him, tail wagging. The big man bent down to scratch his ears.
    â€˜Hello, Stirling. And how are you this morning?’ He gave Holly a broad smile and held out his massive hand. She took it nervously, but he was remarkably gentle. ‘Miss Brice, how really good to meet you. I’ve often heard your father talk about you.’ His expression became more sombre. ‘Poor man, so sad.’
    Holly ushered him in. ‘I would offer you a cup of tea, but I’m afraid the power’s off.’ Realising that this was a pretty stupid thing to say to an electrician who would not be there if the power were on, she went on to explain what had happened. While she talked, he went over to the broom cupboard. Clearly, he was familiar with the property. The lights flickered a few times and the power crashed off again. His head reappeared.
    â€˜I’m afraid it’s the central heating boiler. It’s pretty ancient and it needs replacing. You really need a new one as soon as possible because it’s shorting out. I’ll have a go at getting it working for you, at least for now, but we’d really better get a plumber round.’
    â€˜I don’t suppose you…?’
    The electrician nodded and pulled out his phone. ‘I’ll get straight onto him.’ He dialled a number and waited for a few seconds. ‘Bob? Tom. Yeah, I’m fine. Listen, I’m over at George Brice’s place and the boiler’s packed up. His daughter’s here and she’s freezing to death. Yes, I know. Anything you can do?’ There was a short pause before Mr Fleming spoke again. ‘That’s great, Tom. I’ll tell her. Yes, I know. It’s the least we can do.’
    He ended the call and turned to her with a smile. ‘He’s on a job this morning, but he says he’ll be round at two.’
    â€˜But, today’s a Saturday. Is that all right?’
    Tom Fleming smiled at her. ‘It’s like I said to Jack last night. We owe it to George.’ Seeing the expression on Holly’s face, he explained. ‘He was a lovely man, your dad. The very least we can do for his daughter is to bail her out when she’s in trouble.’
    Holly fought to keep her lip from trembling. ‘That’s really, really kind of you. My dad would be ever so pleased.’
    The electrician was as good as his word and by half past ten, the lights were restored and the boiler fired up again. He explained that it was only a temporary repair, but that it should do the job for now. ‘When Bob Banks gets here this afternoon, he’ll be able to sort it out better. He’s a good plumber, is Bob.’
    After he had left, studiously ignoring her request to tell her how much she owed him, Holly went round the house with a cloth, drying the condensation that had formed on the cold windows and checking that the radiators were all warm. The dog, clearly exhausted after the long walk, had taken to his bed and was snoring gently. Holly made herself a cup of tea before going up to the now blissfully warm bathroom and taking a leisurely bath. She