Читать книгу Just for the Holidays: Your perfect summer read! - Sue Moorcroft - Страница 9

Ronan checked all his limbs were still attached and that his head could move from side to side. All OK.

But his shoulder was on fire, stopping his breath. Heat was building in his temples, too, but that wasn’t medical.

It was simple good old-fashioned fury.

Slowly, he turned to contemplate the woman beside him. She was removing her sunglasses; grin blazing, eyes dancing, as she awaited his reaction.

He didn’t keep her waiting for long. ‘What part of “I broke my clavicle” didn’t you understand? I’m still healing! My career is hinging on my recovery and you throw me around like an insane fucking idiot!’

The grin flicked off and Leah’s eyes widened with horror. ‘What?’ she gasped. ‘I didn’t know you’d been hurt!’ She actually clapped her hand to her forehead like a sitcom actor.

‘How could you not know? You were sitting right there when I explained! And, anyway, you don’t put someone through your stupid antics without knowing their medical history. You could kill someone!’ The final two words emerged in a kind of strangled roar.

White to her hairline, she swallowed hard. ‘I am so sorry. Should I get you to a doctor? Should you lie down? Do you have medication?’

‘As far as I know, I’m in one piece,’ he allowed grumpily, sliding over the peak of his anger as he eased his shoulder up, down and round, laying tender fingers on his collarbone. ‘It’s still working, which is better than I’d expect from being hurled into a series of car stunts without warning, helmet, harness or other rudimentary provision for my safety.’

She hung her head but not before he saw tears well in her eyes. ‘I can only apologise. I was showing off.’

Silence, apart from the smug purr of the engine, while Ronan fought with himself. Probably she had been expecting him to be impressed by her prowess but it had been an idiotic piece of exhibitionism and part of him wished the driver had been a man so he could drag him from behind the wheel and vent. Leah being female – the bikini had left him in no doubt about that – physically relieving his feelings was not an option.

He drew in a slow breath. And then another. ‘In my job I take safety extremely seriously and to have someone do that for a joke in my current circumstances—’

‘—is unacceptable,’ she agreed, wretchedly. ‘Unacceptable in any circumstances. Showing off is exactly what my instructor told me never to do. I completely understand.’ Her voice had thickened. ‘Should I take you to the garage? Will you be able to drive home? Are you certain you shouldn’t see a doctor? There might be a hospital in Muntsheim or I could take you into Strasbourg.’

At her obviously miserable guilt he felt the remains of his fury drain away. He flexed his arm experimentally. It worked fine. ‘Let’s just go. I think I’ll be OK to drive.’

‘Right.’ Gently, she put the car into gear and pulled away like a granny with a full load of eggs on board.

Ronan glanced at her as she rejoined the traffic. She’d replaced her sunglasses, so he couldn’t see her eyes but he could see her hand tremble on the gear stick and he began to wish he hadn’t been such a diva. She’d only meant to have fun at his expense and when he was fit he liked fun. Every pilot had adrenalin-junkie tendencies beneath the control and precision that governed the job. If the episode had occurred six months ago he would probably have howled with laughter as she’d flung the powerful car around like a pro.

But since he’d had a stark reminder of his own fragility and the way that his career, like a helicopter, depended on everything being in top working order, he was more cautious. ‘Left at the square, then the garage is at the top of the hill.’

She nodded.

He tried to think back to the moment when he’d explained his injury in the after-lunch social chatter. Alister had been soaking up the sun and the wine in equal measures. Michele had been asking Ronan twenty questions … and, damn, Leah had been texting, frowning in concentration as her thumbs flew.

She hadn’t been listening.

Before he could acknowledge this they pulled up at Garage Zimmermann to be greeted by a deserted forecourt and a padlock shining dully on a big blue sliding door. Ronan sighed. ‘Great. My car’s probably the other side of that. But it looks as if there’s a note.’ He left her sitting silently while he hopped out to squint at the few scrawled words on an envelope taped to the door.

In moments he was letting himself back down into the passenger seat. ‘I think it says that they’ll be back at five but the note appears to have been written with a blunt pencil held between the toes.’

‘Shall we hang around?’ she queried, ultra-politely. ‘Or would you prefer to wait alone? Unless you think you shouldn’t be left alone,’ she added.

Her woefulness made his conscience twinge anew that he’d been so heavy on the self-righteous indignation. ‘I probably shouldn’t be left alone, actually.’ He smiled, though it was wasted as she was looking anywhere but at him. ‘There’s a nice café on the square where you can keep an eye on me.’

At least his words made the corners of her mouth relax. ‘I could use a shot of caffeine,’ she confessed.

He directed her to the Rue des Roses where he felt sure of Muntsheim’s sometimes complex parking system and they strolled through to La Place de la Liberté, a pretty, popular square surrounded by shops. They took a table outside Café des Trois Cigognes where they could watch the sun making diamonds of the splashing water in the fountains.

Leah ordered espresso and he was glad to see some colour return to her cheeks as she sipped the black brew.

He added milk to his Americano. ‘Now I’ve got over myself, I’m in awe of your driving. Are you a stunt woman in your spare time?’

Her smile was so faint that it was hardly there. ‘I like going on experience days – stunt, drifting, performance, that kind of thing. I don’t usually do it in my own car and I’ve left some expensive rubber on that car park. That, as well as putting your health in danger, will teach me not to show off.’ Under the shade of the parasol she’d lodged her sunglasses on top of her head, allowing him to see the contrition in her eyes. ‘I don’t know where my brain went. Whenever I do an experience day I have to fill in a huge medical questionnaire so I know that before you start throwing a car around you have to be sure there are no issues for anyone who might be in it.’ She clattered her cup on its saucer.

‘If being up yourself is a medical condition, I certainly suffered a severe episode,’ he observed, gravely. ‘Honestly, I’m usually more adventurous.’ He was rewarded by a glimpse of a proper smile, a big improvement on the wretched mask she’d been wearing for the last half-hour. ‘I apologise–’

She cut across him. ‘No, don’t. I was the one in the wrong.’

He leaned a little closer. ‘But I could have put my objections across without being a gobshite.’

The smile flickered again so he was encouraged to continue. ‘Here are the highlights of the conversation you evidently missed. At the beginning of July I had what’s known as “a hard landing” in a helicopter. I did my collarbone and now I can’t go flying until the doctors say so.’

‘When’s that likely to be?’ Her gold-brown gaze shifted to him.

‘Maybe September if, by then, the pain has gone, my orthopaedic surgeon says I’m OK and my Aviation Medical Examiner agrees. I’m on full pay so I expect my boss, Henry, will want me back in the air as soon as possible – as I want to be. Flying’s one of those things that isn’t so much what someone does but what they are. If I can’t fly …’ He lifted his hands in a gesture of despondency.

At this stage, most people demanded details of the landing, whether he’d hurt anyone else and whether he’d made the news. The answers were ‘No’ and ‘Yes’. Inevitably, a fascination with the sensational would then lead them to demand to know whether it was his fault. When the answer to that was also ‘No’ it was beyond irritating to see their faces fall at discovering no juicy incompetence to chew on.

But Leah’s mind obviously trod a different route. ‘But your shoulder was well enough for you to drive all the way over here?’

He flexed his shoulder. ‘We flew with an airline. Dad’s old BMW’s kept here and it’s an auto, so I can manage local journeys.’ As she’d brought up the subject of cars he decided to broach the elephant in the café. ‘I presume our exciting tour of the car park was prompted by my assumption that because the Porsche is a powerful machine it must therefore belong to your husband? I apologise for falling for sexist stereotypes but, in my defence, Alister had been quite emphatic about the big pink car not being his. As I’d seen you driving it, I therefore assumed it was yours.’

Her eyebrows flew up. Then clanged down. ‘My what?’

‘Your car.’

‘No. Before that. Husband?’

He tried to work out what had prompted her aghast expression. ‘Have I committed another solecism? Your partner. Significant other. Boyfriend. Baby-dadda. Alister.’

Suddenly her smile was back, full strength and dazzling along with dancing eyes. ‘Alister’s my brother-in-law. He’s married to Michele.’

He couldn’t hide his astonishment. ‘Alister and Michele are married?’

A short laugh. ‘Well, separated. It’s very recent, hence their interesting decision that both should be included in the family holiday. My presence here is to defuse tension – though I’m not sure it’s working. What on earth made you think I’m married to Alister? He’s a lovely man, of course,’ she added, quickly, ‘but a lot older than me.’

‘The first time I saw you – when I was the one showing off, jumping in like a callow youth to air my French – Natasha fetched you to join your family and mentioned “Dad” so I mentally pigeonholed you as the mum.’

‘A mum to two teenagers? I obviously need to upgrade my moisturiser. Michele’s eight years older than I am and Alister’s four years older than her.’

‘You look miles and miles too young,’ he agreed, grinning as she rolled her eyes at his flattery. ‘But you could have started early or Natasha and Jordan could be your stepkids. Families come in many permutations. I saw you going out with Alister and the children, and with Michele having a boyfriend – though that’s explained now that I know of the separation – I drew the conclusion that you and Alister were a couple.’

‘Boyfriend?’ she repeated blankly. ‘Michele has a boyfriend? As in … boyfriend?’

Uh-oh. Uh-bloody-oh. Leah was looking as shocked as if he’d just keyed her precious car. He could only think that he’d just let a particularly scabby cat out of an inadequately fastened bag. He’d escaped his own distressing domestic strife too recently to involve himself with anybody else’s and his first instinct was to backtrack. ‘Hasn’t she? Perhaps the stunt driving affected my brain. Shall we try the garage again? I’d hate the mechanics to have finished for the day by the time I get back. And you have shopping to do.’

‘Tell me why you think she has a boyfriend, first.’

He shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’d much rather not.’

She gazed at him for several seconds, then slumped back into her chair. ‘I understand.’ She took up her coffee cup as if she had nothing more on her mind than savouring its richness. Until she tacked on: ‘I’ll simply confront Michele when I get back to the gîte. I put aside my own plans to come on this holiday and supposedly save her from shooting herself.’ Her sentences began to rise both in speed and volume. ‘I’ve driven her ugly fat car and played mum while she, she said, was under the weather. I’ve endured her bitching with Alister, I’ve taken on most of the domestic drudgery, I’m doing everything I can to support her family. But a boyfriend is a detail she hasn’t shared with me and, frankly, it does put things in a different light.’

Her colour stormed from chalky white to angry red. ‘And if I lose my temper it may involve shaking my sister by the throat. So if you want to avoid me being thrown into a French prison I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me what you think you know so that I have a chance to calm down before I get back!’

Though taking a second to note that Leah looked amazing with her eyes snapping angrily, he could understand her feeling that she had a right to the truth. Also, if he refused to explain, it would surely mean a chill between them. And as he was already bound for Michele’s shit-list when Leah tackled her because the only ones around to report her activities were Ronan or Curtis, there seemed no point in hacking Leah off, too.

He gave in. ‘I was painting the front of the house. A car pulled up and Michele rushed out and got into it. A man was in the driving seat. They kissed.’

‘Not a peck on the cheek?’ The sun picked out the gold flecks in Leah’s eyes.

‘By no means.’ Not unless Michele kept her cheek halfway down her throat. Then, because Leah obviously wasn’t going to give up before she’d drawn out the relevant details, he added, ‘An intimate, passionate kiss. Or ten.’

‘Right.’ She turned to gaze over the square.

Ronan gave her time to absorb this obviously unexpected and unwelcome news, trying not to glance at his watch. He truly was beginning to get fidgety about his car.

‘Was your divorce amicable?’ she asked, suddenly. ‘I’m beginning to wonder whether they ever can be.’

Though surprised by this tangent, he answered neutrally. ‘In my case, it was exasperating more than anything, much in keeping with Selina’s usual way of doing things. Time had already proved that we hadn’t made a heavenly match. I would have stuck with her for Curtis’s sake, but she met Darren and I was left with no real choice but to accept it and help Curtis with the realities of the break-up. I settled for “reasonably civilised” rather than “amicable” – considering how aggrieved I felt that my desire to hang on to Chez Shea meant Selina coming in for most of the equity from the marital home. It had been funded from what Dad left me plus the sweat of my brow before Selina ever moved in.

‘Anyway, that’s the way the law works. For nearly three years we’ve lived apart but in the same part of Orpington, close enough that we can share custody and Curtis can stay with me as my work rota allows.’

Her gaze softened. ‘How’s it working out? I’m anxious for Natasha and Jordan.’

He felt the familiar tug of unhappiness. ‘It’s not the same as living together full time. It’s hard, part-time fatherhood. Not able to see your child every day, being excluded from swathes of his life. It’s no wonder that Curtis is growing away from me.’

‘Is he?’ She propped her elbows on the table as she watched his face, seeming to have completely set aside her beef with her sister while she concentrated all her attention on him.

He had to force a laugh so as not to choke at the sympathy in her eyes. ‘Maybe it would have been the same even if we’d still been a family. Teenagers are teenagers. I hate his Goth look and his obviously cultivated mispronunciations. He’s been able to pronounce “thanks” perfectly well till now.’

She groaned. ‘But that’s just teenspeak, isn’t it? Like Natasha with “obvs” instead of obviously and “forevs” for forever. I expect it’s just the new “fing”.’

‘I don’t know about Jordan and Natasha but Curtis is full of new “fings”, like turning up at the beginning of the holiday with all that ironmongery on his face, for which Selina gave permission without consulting me. I was furious but I had to swallow it for the sake of good relations with them both. I told myself that piercings can grow over once the hardware’s removed, so not to make a big thing out of it, and hope it’s just a phase. What if Selina had let him have tattoos?’ He felt his jaw tighten. Then he saw that Leah had two rings in each ear. ‘Not that I’ve got anything against piercings per se. He’s just too young.’

‘If he’s like Jordan he loves to do things he’s too young for.’ She jumped to her feet, switching with dizzying speed from deep conversation to decisive action. ‘Let’s reunite you with your car. We both have things to do.’ She dropped some euros on the table without giving him a chance to contribute and strode off towards Rue des Roses.

When they returned to the dusty collection of buildings that made up Garage Zimmermann the doors had been pushed back and Ronan could see the aging BMW inside. ‘Looks like I’m good to go. Thanks for the lift.’

Her hand on his arm stayed him as he went to open her car door. ‘Thanks, Ronan. I put you in a difficult position about the boyfriend and I hope you understand why I was angry. I won’t really attack my sister.’ Her smile wobbled. ‘The kids have had enough to put up with.’

He nodded. ‘It’s always the kids.’ Then he kissed her cheek, because why the hell not? He might as well get something good out of an afternoon that had left him with his shoulder thumping like a bitch. He didn’t want to make Leah feel bad by going over to the pharmacy to buy painkillers, though. He had some in the car and he’d ask for water at the garage to take them after she’d gone.

In fact, by the time Ronan made it back to Kirchhoffen his shoulder pain had subsided to a dull ache, thanks to managing the steering wheel mainly one-handed. He found Curtis still sprawled on their neighbour’s lawn between Natasha and Jordan, heads close together as they played something incomprehensible on their phones. Alister was nowhere in sight but Michele looked up from a magazine to greet him.

Ronan, returning a polite response, wondered if her smile would be quite so wide if she knew what beans he’d just spilled to Leah. He nudged Curtis with his toe. ‘We’d better get something sorted for dinner.’

Curtis didn’t even look up from the game he was playing so furiously. ‘We’re eating here. Natasha, get the wither skeleton skull.’

‘What do I do with it?’ Natasha frowned as her thumbs darted over her phone screen.

‘Put it on the wither skeleton!’ Curtis and Jordan chorused scornfully.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Natasha looked abashed and the three laughed together as if Ronan had become invisible.

‘Curtis,’ Ronan said quietly, in the voice that meant he wasn’t enjoying invisibility.

Curtis paused his game with a put-upon sigh, the heading-for-a-storm expression Ronan was getting to know lurking in his eyes. ‘Natasha and Jordan’s mum has invited us to have a barbie with them.’ Then, perhaps realising from Ronan’s frown that the use of manners might help achieve the result he was looking for, ‘Can we stay, please?’

Michele called. ‘Do! Leah will be home any time with the food. She does a mean barbecue.’

Ronan debated. Leah wouldn’t tackle her sister about the boyfriend in front of the children and Curtis having company was exactly what Ronan wanted as, so far this summer, the only other teens around the village had been French, and Curtis’s language skills weren’t quite good enough to keep up. And Ronan was prepared to put up with Michele now if it meant gaining a little more of Leah’s company later.

‘Thanks.’ He pulled up a garden chair and assumed a politely attentive expression as Michele launched into her impressions of Alsace, thinking, as he listened, how little resemblance he could discern between the sisters. Michele’s hair was shorter, curlier, and highlighted an improbable silvery blonde. Taller and more thickset, she was pallid compared to Leah’s sun-kissed glow. If Ronan had to pick a descriptor for Michele it would be ‘self-orientated’, whereas there seemed no single term to express Leah. She was complex, fun, unexpected, valiant, interesting – not to mention so hot and curvy that she’d look just as at home sprawled over a bonnet at a car show as she obviously was behind the wheel. And she’d probably be extremely hacked off at him if she knew that he’d let the thought of her as a hood ornament stray across his mind.

Still, he tried to turn the conversation to his topic of interest. ‘Your sister loves her car.’

‘Leah’s pose-mobile.’ Michele wrinkled her nose. ‘Proper petrol-head is Leah. Spends half her life at circuits with Scott Matthewson.’

‘Is that her boyfriend?’ Damn.

‘No, just her ever-present best buddy. I’m quite glad, really,’ she added, frankly. ‘He wouldn’t be the best boyfriend for Leah. Heteroflexible,’ she added, meaningfully.

Reassured by ‘buddy’ and not needing ‘heteroflexible’ explained to him, Ronan decided not to make his interest obvious by enquiring whether there was a boyfriend as well. Hearing a deep engine note approaching, he jumped up. ‘Sounds like Leah. I’ll help unload.’ He strode around the house, intercepting a frowning Leah as she yanked shopping from the Porsche’s boot.

He made his voice low as he threaded his fingers through the handles of several bulging bags. ‘Heads up. Michele’s invited us for a barbecue and Curtis was keen so I agreed. Sorry if that creates an obstacle to you shaking her by the throat.’

She managed a one-cornered smile. ‘I haven’t finished brooding so she’s safe.’

‘Good to know.’ Following her around to the kitchen door, he let his voice return to social volume. ‘That boot takes more than I’d have guessed.’

‘Enough for me,’ she agreed. Passing through the garden, she shouted hellos.

‘I thought we could barbecue,’ Michele called, without moving a muscle.

‘Already got the news. On it.’

Not intending to get stuck with Michele again, Ronan elected to hang out with Leah in the kitchen. Soon the kids piled in and there were four pairs of helping hands. Or one pair of hands, plus three eager potential diners making menu requests and getting in the way.

Leah made no complaint that Michele didn’t budge from her comfortable spot, or that when Alister reappeared he was grouchy because he’d drunk too much wine in the sun and, despite a nap, his head was clanging. She just laughed and joked with the children and calmly managed to barbecue in the garden as well as preparing a salad and steam a chocolate and marshmallow melt-in-the middle pudding in the kitchen.

Ronan buttered bread and carried whatever needed carrying, earning an approving nod from Leah. ‘A kitchen porter who doesn’t forget, avoid or bitch about the task at hand; you’re a priceless commodity.’

‘Glad you’re impressed.’ He was enjoying his arm brushing hers as they manoeuvred around each other so he forbore to point out that fetching and carrying wasn’t hard compared to his normal job of delicately controlling the height and speed of a complex piece of machinery in the air, reading instruments, navigating, communicating with the ground and simultaneously giving his spiel to exclaiming tourists about the Gherkin Building and the London Eye.

He helped clear up after the meal when Michele excused herself in pursuit of an early night and the children went off indoors somewhere to play pool. Alister dozed over more wine and Ronan was glad all over again that Alister and Leah weren’t married. It made Ronan feel better about hanging on for coffee with her and remembering how good she’d looked in that purple bikini.