Читать книгу A Family Holiday: A heartwarming summer romance for fans of Katie Fforde - Bella Osborne, Bella Osborne - Страница 12

Sunday was a very strange day for Fleur. She awoke in her own bed, in her own bedroom, to the usual sound of birdsong, but this was the last place she had expected to be the morning after her wedding. She pulled the duvet tight around her and had a little weep to herself. She had cried a lot yesterday and now told herself that after this little cry, that was it. Rob simply was not worth it. Despite everything he’d promised, he was never going to stay faithful to her, he was a charmer and charming women was what he did. On top of that, who would decide to leave their new bride only a couple of weeks after the wedding and go off around the world with a band? Especially a band that changed their lead singer virtually monthly, due to what they loosely termed ‘artistic differences’. All the things that she had thought were exciting and made Rob stand out from the others seemed silly today, and she hated the fact that he was dominating her thoughts.

Fleur felt bad for her parents too. She had been waiting for the ‘I told you so’ lecture but it hadn’t been presented yet – and something told her that it wouldn’t be either. She also felt their relief – they were never keen on her boyfriends and Rob was no exception, but this time there was a divorce to sort out. Fleur rubbed her eyes and slid out of bed. At least she could make herself useful, seeing as she wasn’t getting on a plane to Borneo any more.

After her shower she checked her phone. No messages, no missed calls. She’d asked Rob not to get in touch and it looked like he was doing as he’d been told. Fleur pulled on some leggings and a big jumper and made her way out of the house. It was a little chilly as the sky was all clouds today – a mass of painted stripes, aspirin-white on more aspirin-white and a drizzle in the air.

Fleur could hear the noise long before she reached the stables. Of all the ponies and horses Fleur’s family had owned, Ralph was the most demanding. Fleur was a fraction late with his breakfast this morning so he was making his presence known. As she opened the main door the bucket came flying out at head height, narrowly missing her.

‘Ralph!’ she shouted. The small fat Shetland pony stared her down. His big brown eyes full of the devil. He hated having to wait for his breakfast. He snorted and turned around to present Fleur with his particularly large backside.

‘Delightful,’ said Fleur, ‘Morning Clyde,’ she said. Clyde was her oldest love. The heavy head of her horse lolled over his stable door in welcome. ‘Ralph’s in a bad mood,’ she said and Clyde vigorously nodded his agreement. He didn’t, actually, but he always liked to shake his head in a variety of directions first thing in a morning once his stable was open, so it always entertained Fleur to ask him a question.

‘Sorry Clyde,’ she said sneaking him a polo mint. ‘You looked lonely. That was the only reason we got you a stable mate. Shame it turned out to be one with satanic tendencies.’ Fleur wondered if it was because Ralph was so small and Clyde was so big, but eventually she’d come to the conclusion that Ralph’s bad attitude was simply because he was a little bastard.

As it turned out, Clyde would have been far better off being lonely as, from the second he stepped out of the horsebox, Ralph decided he was in charge and proceeded to nip at Clyde’s fetlocks. At any given opportunity Ralph would chase Clyde away and generally make his life a misery, but none of the Van Bentons had the heart to send him back to the rescue centre.

Ralph stamped his hoof in frustration as Fleur hung up his hay bag.

‘Darling, you don’t need to be doing this today,’ said her mother, marching across the yard. ‘I was all set to sort out the boys this morning. You could have had a lie-in.’ She kissed Fleur lightly on the cheek.

‘I’m okay, thanks. I might take Clyde out for a ride.’

‘Good idea, but come and have breakfast first. Poppy will be leaving shortly and she’ll want to see you before she goes.’

‘All right,’ conceded Fleur.

‘Any contact at all from you know who?’

‘He’s not Voldemort, mother! You can use his name, but no I’ve heard nothing from him,’ she said as she felt a buzzing sensation from the mobile in her pocket.

Charlie opened the door and then wished she could instantly slam it shut again.

‘Hi,’ said Felix, ‘look we got off on the wrong foot.’

‘Twice,’ stated Charlie with a bored, slow blink.

‘Yeah, sorry. Everything feels like such a mess, I wondered if we could have a chat. Just you and me.’

‘Is this so you can give me my notice?’

Felix chuckled, ‘No, suspicious Londoner. I want to talk to you about the kids. I think you’re a moody cow but I also think you know them the best.’

At least he was honest, thought Charlie. ‘Wait there.’ She left Ted in charge, grabbed her umbrella and met Felix on the doorstep. ‘Posh coffee?’

‘Yeah, sounds good,’ he said.

‘You’re paying,’ smiled Charlie as she led the way.

The coffee shop was busy and they stood awkwardly in silence in the queue next to each other and gave their orders separately. They found a small table shoved into a corner and settled down. Felix looked around.

‘So many miserable people,’ he said. ‘Do you think it’s the weather that makes them like that?’

‘It’s summer.’

‘Not so as you’d notice. It’s raining most of the time.’

Charlie looked at him. ‘Are you not a fan of London?’

‘Hate it. It’s cold, wet, there’s too much traffic, it’s noisy, nothing feels clean, nothing is clean and nobody cares about anyone else.’

‘Definitely not a fan, then,’ she sipped her coffee. ‘Thanks for this,’ she said, raising her mug.

‘And everything is ludicrously expensive,’ he said, with a broad smile.

They sipped drinks and glanced at each other for a minute or so and Charlie felt her cheeks colour up. What was that all about?

‘We need to talk about the kids,’ said Felix at last. ‘I don’t think there is anyone who can be the kind of guardian that Tobes and Helen would have wanted. You know, someone in the family who could love the children like their own.’

Charlie swallowed hard. It wasn’t meant to be but it felt like a blow to her relationship with them.

‘What about Roger?’ she suggested. ‘He’s their grandfather and he wouldn’t actually have to do anything.’

‘He’s a bit of a long shot, being elderly, and wasn’t he a bit unsteady on his feet?’

‘He’s got arthritis. He’s in a nursing home.’

Felix shrugged and fiddled with the handle of his mug. ‘He wouldn’t be very involved, so I don’t know what Social Services would say about that. Or the solicitors, as it was me and Ruth who were named in the will.’

Charlie knew the odds were stacking up against Roger. ‘I’m not saying he’s a great option but he could be an option.’

‘So is Ruth. She’s keen to make sure the children have a financially secure future, but she’s not the mothering type.’

‘That’s an understatement,’ said Charlie and they both smiled at each other and held eye contact. ‘So that leaves you,’ said Charlie, and she knew she looked like a puppy as she eyed him hopefully.

Felix blinked and broke the intensity. ‘I am the last thing those kids need.’

‘But you don’t have to actually do anything. I would look after them…’

‘That’s not what their parents would have wanted.’

‘Then stump up!’ said Charlie, sounding crosser than she intended. Felix looked taken aback. Charlie tried to relax the situation with a smile. ‘What I mean is…’ she thought for a moment, this was tricky because stump up was exactly what she meant. ‘Nobody is ever going to replace their parents. They just need someone to love them. You could do that.’

Felix stood up abruptly, bumping into the table and knocking over what was left of Charlie’s coffee. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said waving at the coffee. ‘I’ll be in touch.’ He squeezed his way out of the coffee shop repeatedly saying ‘excuse me’ as he went and repeatedly he was ignored.

On Monday morning, Charlie sat on the floor of the living room, her ear getting quite soggy from the prolonged closeness of the telephone. She had been listening to Fleur for the last fifty-two minutes and if she didn’t manage to get her off the phone soon she wouldn’t have time to put the vacuum cleaner round before the lady from Social Services arrived. She probably didn’t need to do it as the cleaning company did the house every Wednesday but, what with Wriggly, who did so love to get on the sofas and roll around on the carpet, Charlie was keen to make sure that everything looked in place. And Charlie thought that fifty-two minutes of being conciliatory was enough for her blunder. Thankfully, Fleur had quickly forgiven Charlie for not telling her about Rob’s infidelity as she was far too busy directing all her venom at Rob.

Charlie tuned back to what Fleur was saying.

‘I think Ma is secretly pleased. She won’t admit it, but she hadn’t really taken to him.’ Fleur had now followed her mother’s lead and taken to avoiding using Rob’s name and instead he was either referred to as ‘him’, ‘Rob the Knob’ or Charlie’s personal favourite and all her own work, the ‘bridegloom’.

‘Like all of us you want someone who will make you happy, Fleur, and Knob simply wasn’t the man for the job.’

‘But I loved him, Charlie.’ Fleur’s voice faltered. Charlie couldn’t endure another round of tears. There simply wasn’t time.

‘He didn’t deserve you. Look, Fleur, what you need is a duvet day with a bunch of rubbish films. Shall I come round later?’

‘No, thank you. I’m okay. But lunch somewhere special on Wednesday or Thursday might be nice.’

‘Okay, let’s do that. Text me.’

‘Will do. And when we meet I’ll give you the details of Pa’s friend, whose nanny is about to go on maternity leave. Pa’s already put a good word in for you so I think the job’s yours. Bye.’

With relief, Charlie put the phone down. Her head was swimming. Should she be thinking about looking for a new job? Perhaps it was foolish to think that whoever became the children’s guardian would want to keep her on. It was a huge assumption. In which case there would no longer be a role for her to play. The trouble was that although Fleur’s suggestion made absolute sense Charlie couldn’t deal with the amount of emotion her thoughts were stirring up. Right now she didn’t want anything else to change, so she would stick her head in the sand – or in this case, the cupboard – and carry on.

She was tugging the vacuum cleaner out of the cupboard when she heard the doorbell go. Surely that couldn’t be the social worker? If it was they were twenty minutes early. Charlie pushed the cleaner back in and ran up to the front door. Sure enough, there, on the doorstep, was a petite woman with an insipid smile and very floral clothes. She was most definitely a social worker and, unfortunately, one of those who could have been made with a cookie cutter. Sometimes you had one who was bright, cheerful, knew a bit about the world and then there were the rest; this woman was most definitely one of the rest, decided Charlie.

‘Hi,’ said Charlie, stepping back to let her in.

‘Hello, I’m Camille,’ she simpered and Charlie inwardly sighed. ‘Would you like to see some identification?’ she asked.

‘No, it’s okay. You’re from Social Services. We’re expecting you.’

‘I am,’ said Camille, looking totally surprised.

‘Although you’re a little early.’

‘So I am,’ said Camille, without looking at her watch. Charlie was already suspicious. Was this an attempt to catch Charlie off guard? Charlie showed her through to the living room and shut the door.

Charlie went down the stairs at speed, through the kitchen and into the playroom. George and Millie were play wrestling and Millie’s hair looked as if a troupe of monkeys had rampaged through it.

‘George, Millie! Stop it now,’ said Charlie, trying not to shout. Millie jumped up and promptly stomped on George’s groin.

George let out a yelp. ‘My testicles!’ said George, nursing the front of his trousers.

‘George!’ Charlie pointed at Millie and tried very hard not to laugh.