impractical for driving up and down the dirt lane that led to the farm. Thanks to ruts left by their tractor and the thick mud that formed every time it rained, the stupid vehicle spent more time parked up than being used.
Noah’s sobs quietened into the odd sniffle, and Jack forced the anger back down once more. Touching a finger to Noah’s cheek, he smiled when the boy raised his head. ‘A bit better now?’ When Noah nodded, Jack lifted him onto the edge of the bed, so he could stand up. ‘Do you think you can sleep again?’
Noah’s bottom lip disappeared between his teeth. Recognising the precursor to more tears, Jack bent down to scoop the boy up. ‘Oof, you’re getting heavy, buddy, I’ll have to tell Nanna to lay off the cakes.’ In truth, Noah was a wisp of a thing, all joints and gangly limbs from a recent growth spurt which had burned off the last hints of puppy fat. He’d been such a roly-poly little lad, a miniature buddha, all smiles and sweet cuddles until last summer when he’d converted all that girth into height.
There was no mistaking him for anything other than a Gilbert, now. If he kept on growing like this, he might even outstrip his dad who’d topped Jack’s six-foot frame by a good inch. If it weren’t for the four years between them, Jack and his brother could have been alike enough to be taken for twins at first glance, and staring into Noah’s hazel eyes was like looking into a mirror of the past. Even the grief etched on his face was familiar, although Jack had been three times six-year-old Noah’s age when his own father had died.
There’d been mutterings of a family curse by some old biddy at Jason’s funeral which Jack had shut down with a filthy glare. People loved that kind of crap, though he hadn’t realised how much until his family had been on the end of the gossip.
Settling Noah on his hip, though he was almost too big to be held that way anymore, Jack pressed a kiss to his forehead. ‘How about some hot chocolate?’
Noah perked up considerably at the suggestion of his favourite treat and even managed a little smile by the time Jack negotiated his way down the steep stairs and into the square hallway on the ground floor. Wincing as his toes touched the chilly flagstone floor, Jack made his way to the large sprawling kitchen-diner that was the heart of the old farmhouse. He deposited Noah on one of the ladder-back kitchen chairs, sighing in relief to be standing on one of the cheerful rag rugs which covered the bare stone floor.
A sleepy woof greeted them from the large basket tucked close against the Aga as Sebastian raised his head to greet them. Leaving Noah’s side, Jack crossed the room to flick the kettle on, pausing to bend over and scrub the chocolate Labrador in his favourite spot behind his left ear. Bastian rolled his eyes in bliss, tongue lolling. ‘Silly thing,’ Jack said, affectionately, and the dog wagged his tail as though in agreement.
Retrieving a box from the overhead cupboard, Jack scattered a couple of biscuits into Bastian’s bowl then gathered a pair of mugs and the instant hot chocolate mix while he waited for the kettle to boil. His mum always made the whole thing with hot milk, but it was too late for Jack to be bothered faffing around with pots and pans. Besides, Noah wouldn’t mind—the distraction of being out of bed and away from the nightmare would be enough to set him to rights once more.
The dog scoffed his midnight snack then ambled over to the table where he placed his head on Noah’s knee. He’d become attuned to the boy’s moods, offering gentle comfort whenever he sensed Noah was upset. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder, Jack couldn’t help but smile at the image the small boy and the big dog created together.
Jack mixed their drinks, adding a generous splash of milk to increase the creaminess of the flavour and to make sure it wasn’t too hot to drink. He wanted Noah settled back in bed as soon as possible so he’d be rested enough for school in the morning. Both Jack and his mum had agreed it was important to keep Noah to his regular schedule, and with the support of his teacher, he seemed to be coping okay during the day. It was the nights which were the real problem.
Placing the mugs down on the scarred surface of the block pine table, Jack took the chair next to Noah. Bastian immediately circled around Noah’s chair to wriggle his broad body in between them. Jack shifted his seat over to make room. The dog nudged his cold nose into Jack’s hand, a silent demand for more ear scratches. Obliging his beloved pet, Jack sipped his chocolate, keeping a weather eye on Noah who seemed a lot calmer now, his attention all on his own drink.
When only the dregs remained in his cup, Jack placed his hand on the back of Noah’s head. ‘We’ve both got a busy day tomorrow, are you about ready to get some more sleep?’
Noah gave a little nod as he placed his mug carefully on the table. ‘Uncle Jack, would it be all right if I came in with you?’
Christ, the hope and worry in his big hazel eyes was enough to break a man’s heart. ‘Of course, it’s all right.’ He held up a finger and wagged it at his nephew in warning. ‘No farting though.’
His nephew giggled. ‘Bastian farts much worse than me.’ They both looked at the dog wedged between them.
‘You’re not wrong there, buddy. Remember when Nanna gave him cod liver oil to help when he got itchy skin?’ His mother had embraced her new holistic life to the full and it wasn’t only the human occupants of the farm who were subjected to her homemade remedies. Jack didn’t think he’d ever smelt anything so bad in his entire life. Luckily, after speaking to the vet, they’d switched it out for a spoonful of sunflower oil mixed in with Bastian’s food which had eased his skin problems with less dire side-effects.
Noah wrinkled his nose. ‘He was so stinky!’
Bastian turned his head from side to side, giving them both his best innocent face. Jack tugged the dog’s ear, fondly. ‘Yes, mister, we’re talking about you.’ He stood, put their mugs in the sink to soak then turned to hold out a hand to Noah. ‘Come on, then.’
The dog trailed them to the kitchen threshold, his face a picture of pure misery when Jack tried to nudge him back enough to pull the door closed. ‘Forget it, mate,’ he said.
Bastian whined, making Noah tug on Jack’s fingers. ‘Please, Uncle Jack.’
The dog thumped his tail as the weight of two pairs of hopeful eyes bored into Jack. ‘Oh, bloody hell,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘All right, but when Nanna tells me off in the morning, I’m telling her it’s totally your fault.’
His nephew skipped up the stairs, one spoiled dog in tow while Jack turned off the lights and closed the doors. By the time he’d followed up after them, they were already occupying most of his king-size bed, together with the raggedy teddy Noah had had since a baby, leaving a thin sliver down one side for Jack to crawl onto. Wrestling enough of his duvet from beneath the dog to cover his back, he then rearranged the sprawl of little boy limbs until Noah was mostly vertical on the mattress.
A foul smell hit his nose, followed by a giggle. ‘Naughty Bastian,’ Noah said, fooling no one.
‘Yeah, right. Go to sleep, stinky boy.’ Jack punched his pillow into shape, then settled his head onto it with a sigh.
Little fingers curled around his forearm. ‘Night, Uncle Jack.’
‘Night, buddy.’
Soft snores followed not long after, a counterpoint to the dog’s snuffling breaths. Careful not to move his arm and risk waking Noah, Jack rolled onto his back and willed himself to join them in sleep. It wasn’t to be. The first hint of dawn showed behind his bedroom curtains before he finally dropped off.
‘Jack?’
