"That's enough…" Jombo interrupted Thompson. The latter bowed his head and did not speak anymore.
"I'm sorry, I've said too much."
Thompson kicked himself. He knew that his words must have felt like knives in Jombo's heart.
If this were any other day, Jombo would have lost his temper long ago. But that day, he allowed Thompson to finish.
He intended to help Jombo realize his mistake to avoid repeating it.
"I'll think about it, " Jombo sighed. "What are you waiting for? Wheel me in."
"Yes, sir." Thompson hurriedly steered the wheelchair into the house. "Are you hungry? Should I ask the servants to prepare some oatmeal for you?"
"No need." Jombo sounded dejected. "I have no appetite."
"Before we left, Mrs. Borah stuffed a little bag into my hand. They were some hot cross bunnies that the children like. Shall I have them heated up for you?" Thompson asked tentatively.
"Mrs. Borah?" Jombo recalled. "Yes, the nanny of the children."
"She used to be the Wigston family's housemaid, " Thompson explained. "They said when she was young, she took care of Miss Wigston's father, and then her, and now her three children. She's like family to Miss Wigston and her children."
"I see, " Jombo said. "An old maid who is willing to care for three generations even when the family was in shambles. This shows the loyalty of Mrs. Borah, and also the integrity of the Windts."
"I agree." Thompson nodded with a smile.
"You must have gotten something from that rascal to be speaking so kindly on his behalf, haven't you?" Jombo scolded suddenly, changing his tune, "You are a disloyal servant!"
"Mr. Giblo, I have been with the Giblo family for four generations…"
"Shut it!" Jombo glared at Thompson. He suddenly touched his stomach and said, "I'm a little hungry. Why don't you heat those buns?"
"Yes sir, right away, " said Thompson in delight. He ordered the kitchen to heat the buns. "Oh, bring a glass of warm milk for Mr. Giblo too."
"Two glasses!" Jombo corrected. "It's meaningless to dine alone."
"Then I shall accompany you, sir." Thompson smiled.
When Carla awoke the next morning, the sunlight had already streamed through the window onto her face with a touch of warmth.
She shielded her eyes from the light and squinted at the foliage outside in a daze.
"You're up?" Zayn emerged from the bathroom, dressed for casual comfort.
"Yes." Carla stretched. "Why are you up this early?"
"I did a little reading with the kids." Zayn buttoned up his shirt. The sunlight illuminated the side of his face, accenting his jawline and cheekbones. Carla was mesmerized. "Go back to sleep. We'll leave
at ten, " Zayn said: I'm up now." Carla sat up lazily and held up her arms. "Carry me!"
Zayn smiled and bit her on the chest.
"Ouch, it hurts!" Carla squealed and hit him on the back.
"Did that wake you up?" Zayn kissed the skin he had bitten. "Get up quickly. I'll send for some breakfast."
"Thank you, " Carla said as she kissed him on the cheek. She then leaped out of bed.
Zayn smacked her buttocks, adjusted his tie, and walked towards the door with wide strides.
Carla's phone rang as she brushed her teeth. She glanced at her screen and hastily picked up. "Hello, Diane!"
"Carla…" came Diane's voice shakily. "Help me, please help me…"
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