The motto food is medicine hangs above the stove. The plates are empty; they’ve eaten every bite – the casserole, a dumpling each, a slice of buttered bread. Molly’s chest swells with pride and relief at the sight of the gravy-smeared dishes. Even Milton ate the ready meal his healthcare team had packed for him, which Molly warmed through. He didn’t complain once about his heart, chest or joints. Jago had extras; he didn’t skimp on the bread or dumplings, though his blog condemned carbs to hot hell. And Sabina, who Molly thinks is far too thin, has had her fill.
Molly suspects Sabina is more a drinker than an eater. First, she’d asked if wine would be served with dinner. Now, she asks for a digestif and looks crestfallen when Molly says no.
Instead of booze, Molly tells them they will get a hot chocolate. Sweetened with coconut and vanilla, instead of white sugar, she tells Jago, who’d looked terrified when she said the C-word. She doesn’t miss the sardonic look Sabina shoots Blue, nor the brief flash of childish delight that crosses Blue’s face and makes those peculiar eyes sparkle. Such strange eyes, like the Eye of God, fitting for a strange woman.
Blue is aware of her strangeness, that’s obvious to Molly. She will be comfortable with it by the end of the week; Molly will make that her mission. But first, the hot chocolate.
Milton refuses the drink. He taps his chest, says he’s had enough. He doesn’t say goodnight, or thank you for the meal, or sleep well. Instead, he collects the walking frame, hobbles out and closes the door. They hear him cough along the passage to his room. Molly doesn’t take offence; they’re used to his strange ways now, and he’s been through a lot. Each visit to Hope Marsh has been down to a separate grief: his wife, his daughter, his mother, and his sister. The women in his family seemed to drop like flies. Not for the first time, Molly wonders if he doesn’t just make them up for the sake of a familiar holiday. He wouldn’t be the first man to crave such attention, and Molly does not judge; he’s just a harmless old man who needs love. She does wish, though, that he’d take cocoa; it would help him sleep.
Jago is another matter. His pain has a deeper, more intricate root, and Molly wonders how the others will respond to it when therapy begins. Will they accept him, as she does, or will they turn?
Joshua stays at the table with Jago and their girls (Molly thinks of them as being theirs). She goes to the stove, pours whole Jersey milk into a pan, and adds organic, raw cacao powder, coconut sugar and vanilla extract. She stirs, smells the steam, takes a small spoon from the drawer and has a taste. Sweet but not too; the cacao provides a savoury edge. She pours her husband’s cup first and sets it aside. She tells the guests that he doesn’t like it hot, only lukewarm, and Sabina says how good it smells, and Jago agrees. Blue stays quiet, but Molly can see her look over, her top lip caught between her teeth in expectation. One might think she had never been given hot chocolate as a child.
If that’s so, then this will be extra special, and Blue will hold Molly in her heart forever. Molly imagines the note Blue will write in the guestbook come Thursday morning – how effusive Blue will be, how grateful, how the hot chocolate was the best she had ever tasted and made her feel so well looked after, and everyone who reads it will know what a good job Molly has done.
There’s more to do, yet. Molly asks Joshua to explain what to do if the fire alarm sounds – he stops her sweetly and says yes, he knows the drill, and laughs at his own pun. He is a remarkable man, she tells herself as she stirs the final ingredient into the mugs. She married a remarkable man.
A good night’s sleep is essential, Molly says as she sets the mugs on the table. Blue looks to the window, expression wary as though the glass may break just by her looking at it. Or is it the photos she’s looking at? Milo and Jupiter stare out of their frames. The dogs, the poor dogs. Molly would have put her plate on the floor and let them feast on her leftovers if they were alive. Joshua would have told her off, but he would have patted Jupiter’s rump all the same and given the dog more attention even than his wife. They’ll never have dogs like that again. They’ll never have dogs at all.
Jago downs his in one and tells Molly it was terrific, my God, so delicious, a real treat. Sabina says that she hasn’t had hot chocolate since she was last in Mönchengladbach and Molly does well to hide her smile and tell her calmly that she hopes Sabina enjoys it. Blue looks at Sabina as though she’s never been to Germany and can only imagine what it’s like, and sips her hot chocolate. She grins. It’s not quite the response of overwhelming delight that Molly had hoped for, but a grin is a grin nonetheless.
And tomorrow? Tomorrow they will tell her how well they slept, how comfortably and deeply, and Molly will smile and tell them that’s what all the guests say.