Читать книгу Fern Britton 3-Book Collection: The Holiday Home, A Seaside Affair, A Good Catch - Fern Britton, Fern Britton - Страница 35

Woken by a loud and tuneless rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’, Abi buried her head under the duvet to drown out the noise.

‘Go awaaay,’ she mumbled from under the covers. ‘Oww! Get off me, Dad!’

Greg had put all his weight on top of the form of his sleepy daughter and was attempting to squash her the way he used to when she was little.

‘Come on, my little Abi-Wabby,’ he said in a high baby voice. ‘You used to love a lickle tickle from your daddy.’

‘I said get off me. Oww, you’re hurting me.’

Greg lifted his weight from her and waited for her head to surface. One hand appeared from the depths of the duvet and pulled it down just enough for him to see the mascara-smudged eyes of his beloved child.

‘Hey, Dad,’ she managed.

‘Hello, you.’ He kissed her nose. ‘We have breakfast for you and a surprise.’

‘What time is it?’

‘Eight o’clock.’

‘Why so early? Pearl has given me the day off.’

‘Too early for birthday surprises?’

Abi groaned. ‘Yes. No. Can’t I just have another half-hour?’

‘OK, but if you’re not down then, I shall come and squash you again.’ He threw his weight on top of her and tried to tickle her squirming body.

‘All right all right,’ she laughed, ‘I promise. But my presents had better be good.’

*

Greg was like a cat on hot bricks. He was so excited by the boat that was lurking on the other side of The Bungalow that he couldn’t sit down. He’d also had a few hot emails from Janie. He was missing her. He’d told her about the party and Abi’s Gale and she’d jokingly threatened to come and join the celebrations. What a hoo-ha that would make!

‘Is she up?’ Connie was beating some eggs.

‘Yep. On her way.’

‘Lay the table for me, would you?’

When Abi eventually made her entrance, the entire family were waiting for her. ‘Happy Birthday’ they shouted together. She was lost in a blizzard of hugs and kisses for a few minutes before being ushered to her place at the table. There were two balloons tied to her chair. One said ‘17’, the other ‘Birthday Girl’.

‘They’re from me,’ said Jem. ‘I got some funny looks cycling home with them yesterday.’

‘That wasn’t the balloons, Cuz,’ replied Abi drily, and everyone laughed.

Dorothy placed a narrow box wrapped in silver paper and tied with a purple ribbon, on her table mat. ‘This is from me and Poppa.’

Abi ripped apart the paper, opened the box and was suitably pleased with her gleaming new watch. ‘Cool, Granny. Thanks, Poppa. It’s lovely.’

‘Don’t lose it,’ said Connie.

Abi ignored her. ‘Next present please.’

Francis handed her a smart-looking envelope with Starfish written on it. ‘What’s this? A weekend away from you lot, in luxury?’ She opened it up and read: A one day cookery course in the preparation and cooking of fish dishes. Abi looked at her aunt and uncle with a small bright smile. ‘Lovely.’

‘And here is the antidote,’ said Pru, handing her another Starfish envelope. Abi opened it in trepidation. Her face lit up when she read the slip of paper inside: ‘A pamper day at the Starfish spa! Thanks, Auntie Pru!’

‘My pleasure,’ said Pru, clasping Francis’s crestfallen hand.

Connie plonked a huge dish of bacon, sausage, fried bread and scrambled eggs in the middle of the table. ‘Here we go – eat up. Toast is on its way.’

‘What about my present from you and Dad?’ asked Abi.

Greg, hampered by the cast and sling, did his best to clap his hands together and rub them joyfully. ‘After breakfast, miss!’

*

Greg had fashioned a blindfold out of a tea towel and had wrapped it over Abi’s eyes. He led her out into the garden and round to the side of The Bungalow. The rest of the family followed.

‘Are you ready?’ he asked Abi.

‘Yes.’

‘OK. Here we go. One, two, three—’ He whipped off the tea towel and Abi saw in front of her the boat tied with pink ribbons and balloons with Abi’s Gale in large gold letters on the back and side.

‘Oh my God!’ she squealed, running towards it. ‘Is it mine? Mine alone? No one else’s?’

‘All yours.’ Her father put his arm round her skinny shoulders and hugged her. ‘Mum wouldn’t let me buy you a car.’

‘Shut up, Greg,’ responded Connie. ‘Do you like it, love?’

‘I adore it! Poppa, will you take me out in it and teach me how to drive it?’

‘Of course. You’ll be a natural,’ said her grandfather. ‘Haven’t you been skippering the Dorothy since you were little?’

‘Can we go now?’ she pleaded.

‘Get dressed first,’ said Henry, looking at her standing in her shortie pyjamas.

‘OK! See you in fifteen!’ She turned and raced back to the house.

‘See. Told you she’d love it,’ crowed Greg to Connie.

‘Well, if nothing else it’ll keep her out of the way of the party preparations,’ Connie replied.

*

Connie was standing on the garden terrace of Atlantic House watching Abi skimming across the waves in her new boat, with Henry sitting next to her and bending his head away from the stinging spray they were whipping up and Greg sitting up front, posing with his sunglasses on his head.

‘Look at her. Poppa never let Pru or me touch the Dorothy, but he’s happy to take his life in his hands for his granddaughter.’

Belinda looked up from where she was sitting with a pile of pink tulle in front of her. ‘She’s having a ball. Come and sit down and help me with this stuff. It’ll take your mind off her.’ She passed Connie a quantity of pink fabric. ‘All you have to do is make a little frou-frou skirt and put some gathers in for the waist. We’ll sew the pink ribbon on as a waistband and voilà!’

Connie sat and took hold of the proffered netting. ‘How many do we have to make?’

‘As many as we can. And then we have the turquoise blue.’ She nodded towards a plastic bag at her feet.

Connie threaded a needle with pink cotton and together the women sewed in silence. After a few minutes, Belinda said, ‘It must be a great feeling to have a sister. Pru seems so much fun.’

‘Really? Well, we have our moments,’ replied Connie.

‘You can share so much. Secrets and laughter.’

‘Mmm.’

‘I’d have loved a sister.’

‘Are you an only child?’

‘Yes. And I grew up wishing for a family. You see, it was just me and Mum. I didn’t even have a father, let alone brothers or sisters.’

Connie didn’t know how to reply. She wasn’t really in the mood to hear about Belinda’s deprived childhood. The best she could manage was a subdued, ‘Oh,’ as she kept on sewing.

Belinda did a few stitches more and then looked up at Connie. ‘You’re so lucky to have the family you have. A loving dad. Money. This house.’

‘Mmm.’ Connie had turned to look out to sea to watch Abi and Henry again.

Belinda changed tack. ‘Frankie is a sweetie, isn’t he?’

Connie turned back with suspicion. Was Pru right? Did Belinda fancy Francis? ‘Er. Yeah. I suppose so. He’s a very good father.’

‘I think he’d make a wonderful partner.’

On Pru’s behalf, Connie became defensive, ‘Really?’

‘To be honest, a lot of the mums at school have a crush on him.’

Connie could not conceal her disbelief. ‘Francis?’

Belinda nodded her head and bit through a piece of cotton. ‘Oh yes. I’m not sure Pru knows what she’s got.’

Connie decided that Belinda needed to know her sister’s marriage was sound. ‘Oh, I think she does. They’ve been like a couple of honeymooners these last few days.’

Belinda’s eyes clouded over. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Just that this holiday seems to have relaxed them both. They’re enjoying each other’s “company”, shall we say, more than ever.’

Belinda twisted her mouth to one side. ‘Oh. I see. You surprise me. I thought they had quite a … cold marriage.’

Connie laid her sewing in her lap. ‘What makes you say that?’

Belinda tried to bluff Connie into divulging more information. ‘Something I sort of picked up. Pru doesn’t seem the passionate sort and … well, quite frankly, Frankie is a very sexy man.’

‘Is he?’ said Connie, taken aback.

‘You should hear the women at the school gates.’

‘What do they say?’

‘That if his wife doesn’t want him, there are plenty who do.’

Connie was both astonished and furious on Pru’s behalf. ‘Well, you can tell them that my sister and Francis are very happy and have a healthy, passionate marriage – not that it’s any of their business!’

Belinda said nothing but bent her head to her sewing.

It occurred to Connie that she might be hiding tears. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked.

Belinda added the finished skirt to the pile and stood up, keeping her face turned away from Connie.

‘Oh, gosh yes! Talking of Frankie, I promised I’d help him with the trifles,’ she said. ‘Any problems with the rest of those skirts, give me a call.’ And she walked across the paving and through the kitchen doors.

*

Francis was stirring an enormous pot of chilli mince.

Belinda sniffed appreciatively. ‘Something smells good,’ she said, sidling close to him.

He gave her a quick look and carried on stirring, ‘Hi. You’re just in time. Would you make a couple of bowls of couscous? There’s some coriander, parsley, dried apricots and oranges and limes to squeeze into the mix over on the side.’

She put her arm gently round his waist and squeezed him. He felt her warm breast on his arm and shamefully remembered how that feeling had aroused him until this week’s surprising revival of his sex life with Pru.

He made a casual movement away from her so that she had to let go of him.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘I’ll get on with this, then make the trifles, shall I?’

He didn’t even look at her. ‘Yes please.’

She busied herself with boiling the kettle and emptying couscous packets into a couple of large bowls.

‘Where’s Pru?’ Belinda asked quietly.

‘In Trevay, getting her hair done.’

‘When will she be back?’

‘Not for an hour or two. Why?’

‘It’s nice to spend some time together. You know. Chatting. No interruptions.’

Francis felt nervous and slightly guilty that he might have inadvertently led Belinda on.

‘Oh.’

Belinda put down her wooden spoon and came towards him. Two fat tears had finally been released and were meandering down her cheeks. She put her arms around Francis’s stiffening neck and kissed him on the lips.

‘I have some very strong feelings for you, Frankie.’

‘I’m awfully sorry,’ he said, nervously wiping her kiss from his lips.

‘Tell me you don’t have any feelings for me.’

‘Oh golly, Belinda. You’re a lovely woman and I treasure our friendship, but I don’t feel … You see, I love Pru.’

Belinda’s tears dripped on to his hands, which were clenched close to his chest in order not to accidentally stray towards her breasts. She let him go and dipped her head to wipe her eyes on her cardigan.

‘Well! I’ve made a fool of myself, haven’t I? I’m sorry. Please don’t tell anyone about this.’

‘Of course I won’t.’ He moved slightly towards her but then thought better of giving her a consoling hug.

Belinda took a deep breath and plastered an over-bright smile on her face as she looked out of the window to the sea.

‘Looks as though Abi’s enjoying her birthday present.’

Not knowing quite what to do, Francis dipped a teaspoon into the chilli ready for tasting. ‘Yes.’

‘What did you give her?’

‘Erm, sorry. What? I’m trying to remember if I put the cumin in.’

Belinda scanned the worktop in front of her and found an open cumin pot. ‘I think you did.’ She showed it to him.

‘Ah good. Well, I think that’s done. I’ll crack on with the guacamole.’

The two of them continued to work with the minimum of conversation. Belinda’s heart was heavy. Here was another man who was abandoning her. It was odd how, with age, these pains of loss were getting worse. Her father leaving, gentle Brett walking out for Steve, and now Frankie. A wave of anger and self-pity hit her. Come on, Belinda, she admonished herself. You’ve come a long way. The end is in sight.

The door knocker sounded in the hall. ‘I’ll go,’ said Belinda, bustling out.

When she came back, she was followed by a willowy blonde in her mid-twenties. ‘Hi.’ She walked straight up to Francis with her hand out. ‘I’m Janie – Greg’s PA. I’m here for the party.’

Francis, having barely recovered from Belinda’s shock confession, now stood gulping as if he’d swallowed one of his fresh chillies whole. ‘Janie?’ His wide eyes slid to the outdoor terrace, where he knew Connie was sewing in all innocence.

‘That’s right!’ said the blonde, tossing a glossy mane of hair over one shoulder.

‘Greg’s PA?’

‘The one and only.’

‘He … he didn’t mention you were coming.’

‘Well, it’s kind of a surprise,’ she said in a conspiratorial tone. ‘Is he in?’

Belinda was intrigued. Greg had been sufficiently flirty with her that she sensed immediately this girl spelled danger with every tap of her stiletto-booted foot. Here was mischief to be made. ‘No, he’s out on the boat with his daughter.’