Читать книгу The Perfect Escape: Romantic short stories to relax with - Anna-Lou Weatherley, Julia Williams - Страница 17

By the time Elsie parked her car outside her father’s three-storey townhouse later that day, thick grey clouds had laid siege to Brighton’s skies, emptying their weight of rain on the streets of the seaside city. Despite her best efforts to shield herself from the torrential downpour by holding her handbag above her head as she dashed from the car, she arrived at the purple wood and stained-glass front door soaked once more.

The tinkle of a small wind-chime over the door and heady smell of warming patchouli oil and Nag Champa incense sticks were immediately soothing as she walked into the hallway and headed towards the Indian bead curtain that covered the entrance to the kitchen. It had been many years since she had moved out of this place but it still always felt like home when she returned.

Jim Maynard beamed when Elsie walked into the kitchen. He was out of his work clothes already, his respectable business suit replaced by his favourite Nepal striped patchwork shirt, baggy combat trousers and bright orange Doc Marten boots. Elsie smiled back. She always preferred the sight of her father in his relaxed attire, with his much-beloved gold earring back in his ear: it was a truer version of himself than his well-respected Brighton businessman persona that he had adopted since taking over his father’s classic furniture store business.

‘It’s my favourite youngest daughter!’ he exclaimed, wrapping her up in one of his famous Dad-hugs, which was even more welcome today than usual. ‘Good day?’

Elsie opened a brightly painted enamel tea caddy and popped two ginger and cinnamon teabags into a hand-painted kingfisher-blue teapot, a gift to Jim from his middle daughter Guin when she set up her pottery business in Shoreham-by-Sea four years ago. ‘Annoying day, actually.’ She smiled at her father. ‘But it’s better now I’m here.’

‘I’m glad, darling. I knew there was a reason we needed patchouli oil today. Sit down, take a deep breath and tell your old dad about it.’ Jim took the whistling kettle from the gas stove and made the tea. ‘What happened?’

‘Oh, nothing, really. I just had a bit of an ordeal at lunchtime.’

Her father was about to enquire further when the kitchen door opened and a chorus of ‘Shoplifter!’ filled the kitchen, followed by loud shrieks of laughter.

Elsie groaned as her two older sisters piled onto her, shouting, laughing and ruffling her hair. Sometimes being so close to your sisters (and texting them as soon as anything happened in your day) was a bad thing …

‘Our little sister, the petty thief!’ Daisy Maynard laughed, flicking back her perfectly coiffed blonde hair and clapping slender hands at the sight of her sister’s chagrin. ‘I’m so proud!’

‘We were going to get you a swag bag and mask from the fancy dress shop on the way here but Junior decided to play up,’ Guin added, patting her burgeoning belly. ‘You seem to have this one on side already, Els.’

Elsie grinned despite her embarrassment and reached out to stroke her sister’s considerable baby bump. ‘You’ve got taste, kid. Just stick with your Auntie Elsie and you’ll stay relatively sane.’

‘Although she’ll have you signed up to the family crime business before you know it,’ Daisy added as she and Guin descended into hilarity.

‘What’s this about crime?’ Jim looked from one daughter to the others, trying to keep up. After their mother had removed herself from the family unit when all three girls were little. Jim had assumed the role of sole referee of the whirlwind known as the Maynard sisters and was often left bewildered by their endless energy and the breakneck speed of their conversations.

‘Our little sister was almost arrested for shoplifting today,’ Guin said, groaning as she lowered herself carefully onto a chair by the kitchen table. Her blue eyes flashed with mischief as she pulled a hairband from her wrist and wound her wavy blonde hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. ‘Who’d have thought it, eh? Goody-Two-Shoes Elsie a criminal mastermind!’

‘It was a misunderstanding,’ Elsie protested. ‘I handled the situation.’

‘Really? You handled it?’ Daisy asked, eyebrows raised.

‘Yes,’ Elsie replied firmly, wishing again that she hadn’t informed them so comprehensively of the event in a string of texts that afternoon. ‘I had a lot on my mind and honestly thought I’d paid. It was obvious in the end that I had made a mistake.’

‘Oh.’ Jim handed out mugs of tea, not really sure how to respond to this revelation. ‘Well, we live and learn, eh?’

Filled with a rush of love for her father, Elsie squeezed his hand as she accepted a mug from him. ‘We do. So you see, Dad, everything’s good now.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Now, I did a bit of baking last night. Don’t suppose I can interest any of you girls in a slice of banana and walnut bread, can I?’

This was met by a chorus of appreciation and, delighted, Jim opened an old Roses tin to serve up his recent culinary triumph. As he and Guin began to chat, Daisy grabbed Elsie’s hand and pulled her into the small hallway at the back of the kitchen.

‘So?’ she demanded, folding her slender arms and giving Elsie a classic Older Sister Stare.

Elsie was having none of it. She had outfaced her eldest sister many times over the years and she wasn’t about to be intimidated by her today. ‘So what?’

‘You know what, Elsie Maynard. Why didn’t you mention the chap?’

Elsie shrugged. ‘Dad didn’t need to know.’

‘How do you figure that? That handsome stranger saved you from being arrested, for heaven’s sake!’

‘Shh! Keep your voice down … And I never said he was handsome.’

Dropping her voice to a harsh whisper, Daisy eyeballed her sister. ‘I beg to differ. Anyway, why are you so het up about this? It’s OK to admit you needed help, you know. It’s no reflection on you. It doesn’t mean you can’t cope or anything …’

Elsie had heard enough. ‘Drop it, Dais! Let’s just … talk about something else for a bit.’

Daisy relented and wrapped an arm around Elsie’s shoulder. ‘Fair enough, lovely. I’m sorry. So, was he fit?’

‘Daisy!’

‘Oh come on, Elsie, humour me!’

‘I suppose he was, in an annoying, waterproof way. I wasn’t looking too closely at the time.’

An indeterminable look passed across Daisy’s face. ‘Good. That’s good.’

Later, when the Maynards were sitting around the dining room table in the large, first-floor living room eating vegetable tagine with tabouleh and pearl couscous (a particular favourite of Jim’s), Elsie decided to announce the decision that she had been distracted by when she inadvertently became a lunchtime shoplifter. It had been on her mind all week, ever since she had decided to finally open the small, chocolate satin-covered box by her bed after eighteen months of waiting. This morning, she had made her decision: the first part of moving on …

‘Right, everyone, I’m glad you’re all here – and sitting down – because I’ve something I want to say.’ She smiled at the apprehensive looks of her nearest and dearest. ‘Don’t panic, it’s good news, I think.’ She took a breath to steady herself. ‘I’ve decided to start dating again.’

‘Oh Els …’ Guin’s face reddened and she burst into tears, much to the amusement of her sisters. Since she had discovered she was pregnant, the normally pragmatic middle Maynard sister had become an emotional wreck, sobbing uncontrollably at everything from songs on her car radio to television adverts for pet food and sofas. Laughing at her own emotional state, she accepted the box of tissues her father always kept close for such occasions and wiped her eyes. ‘Man, I am such a wuss! I hope all this sobbing isn’t going to traumatise my baby. I’m just so – happy