A Family Holiday (10 page)

‘I agree. I think there’s a possibility that I might be able to be a part of their lives, but not here. Not in London.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘If I was to feature in their lives I would need to move them away from London.’

‘But you’d be uprooting them from everything familiar. Taking them away from the only place they’ve ever lived. Dragging them off to a far-flung corner of the country is not the answer. You must see that?’ Charlie paused, realising she was gasping for breath.

Felix was studying the tabletop in a similar way to how George did before he owned up to something.

‘I do understand, but I’ve got a life in another country,’ he said finally.

Charlie frowned. ‘What?’

‘I can’t stay in the UK. There’s too many memories haunting me here.’

‘This is getting worse. Now you want to change the language they speak. Seriously, have you thought this through at all?’

‘And you don’t listen. I’m not planning on taking them away, but if they have to stay in London that means I can’t be part of their lives.’

Charlie paused while she processed the information. ‘It’s Ruth or the care system. Is that what you’re saying?’

Felix ran his hands through his hair and blinked hard. ‘Nobody is going to let them go into care.’

‘Okay, but if Ruth is the only option left…’ Charlie felt a lump rise in her throat. ‘I’ll be sacked.’

‘I’m truly sorry,’ said Felix and he looked it. ‘There’s something that’s come up at home so I need to leave sooner than planned.’

‘Something more important than the children?’

Felix sighed. ‘There’s someone who kind of relies on me. They don’t have anyone else. At least the children have you.’

But for how much longer, she thought? Was this the moment that Charlie lost the battle? How on earth was she expected to walk away? She tried to calm the rising panic in her head.

‘When do you leave?’ she asked.

‘As soon as I can get a flight.’

Charlie felt something churn inside her. She wasn’t going to see him again, but she was sure the churning sensation was more to do with her losing the best option as guardian for the children as well as the prospect of losing her job and the children altogether. Because what else could it be? Whatever it was, it suddenly mixed with her feeling of abject frustration.

‘How predictable Felix! You’re running away yet again.’ Although she felt like throwing the coffee, she pushed it across the table instead. ‘Here, we don’t want anything from you.’ She stood up and shoved her chair so hard it slammed into the table and knocked over both coffees. She heard Felix swearing as she walked away.

The nursery pick-up had taken Charlie’s mind off things briefly but her heart sank a little further as she saw both Camille and Ruth on the doorstep, talking. She was pleased to find a parking space nearby for once, got Millie out of the car, locked it and walked over.

Ruth was wearing a skirt suit with sturdy shoes; her usual efficient outfit. Camille was wearing a long denim skirt and matching waistcoat and she smiled as Charlie and Millie came up the steps.

Charlie unlocked the door and followed Ruth and Camille inside. As Ruth was trying very hard to hold a conversation with Millie, Charlie took Camille to one side. ‘I’ve just come from seeing Felix. He’s dropping out of the guardian race.’

‘That explains why he’s not returning my calls.’

‘As you’ve probably heard, Ruth has said no to Roger being guardian.’

‘I had,’ said Camille kindly. ‘It probably wasn’t the best option for the children.’

‘The thing is, that leaves Ruth as the only other relative,’ said Charlie, trying desperately to convey all of her concerns without actually having to voice them. Camille turned to listen to Ruth trying to explain the horrors of the internet to Millie in the other room.

‘I see,’ said Camille, ‘but you would still be primary carer?’

‘That would depend on the guardian, wouldn’t it?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid it would,’ said Camille.

‘Then we definitely have a problem.’

Charlie went to get something to entertain Millie. Charlie heard the noise before she saw it and she spun around quickly as a dozy-looking fly took an uneasy trajectory towards her cup of tea. She picked up a nearby magazine and swatted the fly like a world-class cricketer and it fell dead onto the cabinet. Scooping up the remains with barely a flinch, she binned the filthy creature.

Charlie returned to the living room and handed Millie the touch-screen tablet with her favourite game ready to play. Ruth and Camille were on opposing sofas, so Charlie opted for the big comfy chair. She realised that the conversation that had been in full flow had stopped abruptly so she looked at the two women for clues as to what was going on. Camille gave her usual weak smile.

‘Millie will be okay for a bit. What did I miss?’ asked Charlie, clasping her hands together and letting them fall into her lap.

‘We were discussing options for the…’ said Camille, before Ruth talked over the top of her.

‘Nothing that concerns you at this stage. I will decide what’s best for the children and when I have, I will inform you,’ said Ruth, almost snorting the words through her nose.

‘We need to keep things consistent for the children, so if you could carry on day to day…’ said Camille.

‘Unless I tell you otherwise,’ interjected Ruth, ‘that will be all,’ she said, looking from Charlie to the door. Charlie couldn’t help herself and she started to laugh.

‘Have we stepped back in time, like a hundred years? Don’t you think, as the primary care giver, I should be included in this discussion?’

‘No,’ said Ruth.

‘Yes,’ said Camille at almost the same time. Charlie was surprised but she was warming to Camille as she was clearly made of stronger stuff than Charlie had first thought.

‘Could you leave now, please? I don’t have much time.’

‘Yes, Ma’am. Beggin’ your pardon Ma’am. I’ll be blackening the coal scuttle Ma’am,’ said Charlie, tugging at her forelock as she collected Millie, who was glued to the game on the tablet and reversed out of the room. ‘Bloody woman,’ she said, as she shut the living-room door.

‘I heard that,’ said Ruth.

‘You were meant to,’ said Charlie, hastily reviewing her ‘Kipper List’ and mentally underlining Ruth’s name, as she was already joint top with Felix.

Charlie had just opened the dishwasher when there was a buzz on the doorbell and she grumbled as she headed back upstairs. At the door was a far-too-jolly postman.

‘Hiya, Farishta,’ said Charlie trying not to yawn in the man’s face.

‘Somebody is not getting their beauty sleep,’ he said, followed with an unwarranted amount of laughter at his own joke. ‘Things to sign for,’ he said, handing Charlie the strange little black box and pretend pen. She made a mark, which resembled something that Millie would have drawn rather than a signature. Charlie was searching her brain for what she had ordered that might need signing for and remembered the birthday present for Eleanor’s friend.

‘Thanks,’ she said as she took the two small packets and closed the door. Farishta was still chuckling as he left. Charlie popped the padded envelopes on the side and returned to the kitchen.

After about forty minutes the women emerged from the living room. Charlie smiled, but Ruth ignored her and she and Camille left together, with Camille mouthing ‘thanks’ over her shoulder. Charlie shut the door and headed upstairs.

She was tidying up when the doorbell rang and, to Charlie’s surprise, it was Camille again.

‘Ruth’s gone. Can we talk? Off the record?’

‘Absolutely,’ said Charlie, ‘but I’ve got Millie, so you should be careful because she’s young but she’s not stupid.’

‘I know exactly what you mean,’ said Camille, following her downstairs. Charlie popped Millie on a kitchen chair and set her up with some colouring. Within moments she had her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth in total concentration as she feverishly coloured in a picture of a fish with an orange crayon.

‘I can’t disclose what I’ve discussed with Ruth,’ she said and Charlie’s shoulders tensed, ‘but I can tell you this. If there wasn’t a satisfactory guardian the children could be fostered.’ Charlie’s eyes widened in shock and she held up her hands to indicate Millie. Camille nodded, ‘and that fos… carer could be a new carer. Someone who applied specifically to care for these children.’ Camille nodded again slowly. Camille and Charlie looked at each other.

The penny rattled around and finally dropped. ‘Me?’ asked Charlie, narrowing her eyes in disbelief.

‘Why not?’

‘I didn’t think I could.’ Charlie’s mind was sifting through her past exploits, which she was sure Ruth would have shared with Camille already. She had done some stupid stuff as a teenager but that was a long time ago and clearly it no longer mattered.

‘It’s different if there is an approved guardian but if there’s no one suitable the children would go into care. This would be the same, but with a carer they know. A permanent placement with you as their foster mother.’

‘Are you saying Ruth isn’t suitable?’

‘No. I’m saying we need to undertake a full and fair assessment and that will include looking at the relationship the guardian has with the children, their experience, their level of commitment and other things like that,’ said Camille.

‘I get you. So what would happen about the trust fund?’

‘I’m not certain, but I think it would be administered by appointed trustees instead of the guardian.’

‘I like that idea,’ said Charlie, feeling the smile spread across her face. ‘Does Ruth know about this option?’

‘No, and I will undertake a fair assessment with her, but I felt it was wise to look at back-up options. Like you, I want what’s best for the children. Anyway, here’s the form. Fill it in and post it back and I can start to progress things in the background in case a backup plan is needed, which of course it may not be if Ruth is approved…’

‘…as guardian,’ finished Charlie. ‘I get it.’

‘Mum’s the word.’

‘Apparently so,’ said Charlie with a grin. Things were definitely starting to look up.

Charlie had just come back downstairs after putting the younger three children to bed and had flopped into the armchair when Ted appeared with a mug of tea. He didn’t say anything, he just put it down in front of her.

She tried to hide her surprise. ‘Thanks. You okay?’

Ted slumped onto the sofa. He’d been quiet all evening. ‘Yeah. How’d it go with Felix?

‘Don’t ask,’ said Charlie, as she realised she would have to tell them sooner or later.

‘Run off again?’

‘Yep, exactly that. I’m sorry, Ted.’

Ted shrugged. ‘And the social worker?’ Charlie could see he was trying very hard to look uninterested.

‘Good. They will assess Ruth. It’ll take about six visits.’ Charlie pondered for a moment. ‘She’s also thinking about a back-up plan. You know, in case Ruth… changes her mind,’ Charlie thought it best not to badmouth one of their remaining family members.

‘What sort of back-up plan?’ Ted looked troubled.

‘Me,’ said Charlie, taking a sip of her tea and smiling across at Ted over the rim of her mug. ‘Apparently, I could be your foster parent. It would be a permanent placement, so you’d be stuck with me.’

Ted smiled automatically and then remembered himself and flicked his too-long fringe out of his eyes and shrugged, ‘Millie would like that,’ he said.

‘I hope so,’ said Charlie, feeling a mild pang of panic.

Charlie lay in her bed, wide awake. Her brain was as wired as if she’d had a double espresso and a litre of cola. The implications of being a full-time foster carer for the children were looming large and there was no getting away from them. Charlie knew this would mean sacrificing a lot. This would be her life for, well, the rest of her life. It was huge and it scared her hair straight.

Fleur found herself in an unhappy place. She was no longer planning an exciting wedding or setting off on the adventure of married life, she was at home and she was alone. Poppy was back at work, climbing the corporate ladder, and was dating a highly suitable accountant from Richmond. Her father was in the City doing whatever it was that a managing director of a security systems company did; he had a flat in London so frequently stayed away. Even her mother was out finalising the nitty-gritty details of the local summer fete, which was grandly titled the ‘extravaganza’ – the ladies of the WI were not the best when it came to expectation management.

So, here she was mulling everything over and she was finding it hard to come up with anything other than asking Ma and Pa what she should do. But she had promised herself that this time she was going to sort things out on her own. Fleur was really proud of the fact that, with a little help from Jonathan Steeple and the internet café, she had completed the first stage of the annulment process. There wasn’t much else to do on that front apart from wait. It was a shame, really, as she had quite liked Jonathan in a ‘he’s a nice person’ sort of way, but now she didn’t really have any reason to see him again.

                Fleur stared at her phone. She wondered what Rob was doing now. Tomorrow he was flying out to the Netherlands. She knew that from the note he’d left on her car. I bet he’s not packed the right things, she thought. He was hopeless with anything practical; these creative types often were. She picked her phone up and ran her thumb over the screen. She remembered Rob’s note promising her lots of sex and shopping if she went to the Netherlands with him. She scrolled down to his name; well, actually, he was still saved under ‘husband to be’.

Fleur hastily switched the phone to standby and got up. She had to keep busy, but the problem was that she needed something to be busy with. Something came to mind; the horses were a bit low on hay, so she decided she would use up some time by walking over to the farm nearby and also take the chance to have a think on the way.

‘You walked over?’ asked the farmer, raising one out-of-control eyebrow, as he saw there was no car in the yard.

‘It’s a lovely day so I thought I’d get some fresh air,’ said Fleur, knowing that she sounded like a complete loser and not like herself at all.

‘Shall I drop them bales over tomorrow or do you want ‘em now?’ asked the farmer.

‘I can’t take them with me,’ said Fleur, suppressing the temptation to add ‘duh’ at the end of the sentence.

‘I know that. But I’ve got a lad working here that can bring them over on the trailer. He could give you a lift n’all if you’d like.’

‘On a trailer?’

‘Up t’you,’ he shrugged, lifting up a bale to hurry her decision.

‘Fine, I’ll take them now… thanks.’

‘Duggan!’ shouted the farmer, his bellow making Fleur step backwards and her ears hurt.

The farmer started pulling bales off the pile and stacking them up in front of Fleur, who smiled awkwardly as she waited. The sound of thudding footsteps caught her attention long before Duggan appeared. Duggan strode around the corner and for a moment Fleur thought he came with his own theme tune as she heard some cheesy Wild West music, which was oddly appropriate, accompanying his impressive entrance.

‘Aw, sos. That’ll be me girlfriend,’ he said, pulling a battered-looking phone from his pocket as the theme tune to
The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
continued. Duggan hit the answer call button and listened. The girlfriend talked in an alarmingly high-pitched voice that made it sound as if there was an irate budgie on the other end. Fleur appraised the new arrival. He was tall and muscular and certainly rugged. His hair was cropped and he had matching dark stubble. His face had a sheen to it from working in the heat.

‘Look, I gotta go,’ he said into the phone and shook his head a few times. It was a shame that the voice didn’t match the body, but you rarely got the whole package.

‘Can you load these onto the trailer and drive them and ‘er over to the Van Benton’s house. That big place over there,’ said the farmer, pointing in a vague direction behind Duggan, who swivelled around to look. Duggan stayed facing in that general direction, apparently straining to see if he could see a house.

‘It’s all right, I can show you where it is,’ said Fleur in her sweetest voice. The force with which Duggan spun around nearly made him fall over. He regained his balance and stared at Fleur, who had now stepped from behind the wall of hay. Duggan grinned at her.

‘All right,’ he said with a nod as he started wildly grabbing up the bales and marching off with them. Perhaps this is the sort of busy I need, thought Fleur.

‘That is precisely not the sort of busy you need!’ said Charlie, growing more and more frustrated by the phone call. She’d only called to see if Fleur was in as she was at a bit of a loose end and the kids were driving her round the hat rack.

‘If you come over you can meet him. He’s fit!’ said Fleur. Charlie shook her head but realised it was pointless when you were on the phone.

‘Yes, we’re coming over but no, I don’t want to meet him. Please tell me you’re not getting involved,’ said Charlie, removing a screwdriver from George’s hand as he went past her. What followed was very like a mime fight, where no words were uttered but George gave exaggerated gestures towards the screwdriver and made a twisting motion with his right hand. Charlie simply shook her head and put it in her pocket. George threw up his hands and went upstairs. The sooner they left, the better, before George started taking things apart to relieve the boredom.

‘No, of course not. Sadly Duggan’s got a girlfriend. But if they were to split up I might be interested,’ said Fleur, and Charlie imagined her doing a pirouette at the other end of the line. She shook her head again.

‘Right, see you in about an hour,’ said Charlie, as she ended the call and started her sweep of the house in an effort to round up the children as quickly as possible.

In reality, it took them a good twenty minutes to even leave the house. Ted was engrossed in the latest barbaric army game on the games console, George was busy trying to take his alarm clock apart with the nail clippers and Eleanor and Millie were drawing pictures of a new fashion range for Wriggly, who was chasing his tail like the tiny-brained creature that he was.

The journey was on a par with most – Ted had his headphones on, George and Eleanor bickered over who was sitting in which seat and Millie sang out of tune with Wriggly joining in at various points. It was a wonder that Charlie had never crashed the car. However, as they turned into the tree-lined drive of Fleur’s parents’ house, the noise abated and the occupants of the car started taking an interest in the world outside.

‘There’s Clyde!’ said Eleanor loudly as she spotted the horse at the other side of the paddock.

‘Where Ralph?’ asked Millie, trying to look out of both sides of the car at the same time and making herself look like a demented tennis fan.

‘He’s too naughty to be out in the same paddock as Clyde,’ said Eleanor with authority.

Charlie stopped, opened the car doors and the children swarmed out and disappeared into the house. Fleur met Charlie at the car and gave her a big hug. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said, giving her another tighter, but slightly briefer, hug.

‘We only spoke on the phone an hour ago,’ said Charlie.

‘I know, but it’s not the same.’

A walk down to the stables provided them with much-needed talking time, where Fleur was able to proudly tell Charlie about the progression of the annulment and the very helpful Duggan. Charlie, in return, updated her on Felix and Ruth and also on the foster parent application, the latter literally stopping Fleur in her tracks.

Fleur spun around to face Charlie, her mouth already open. ‘Charlie? Four children? Seriously?’

‘It makes sense,’ said Charlie, trying to appear nonchalant.

‘Uh, no, it doesn’t. You’re what? Twenty-five?’

‘Twenty-four, but birthday coming up, thanks for the reminder.’

‘Whatever, it’s far too early to be a single parent of four. Come on, this is taking the Sister Teresa thing a bit too far!’

‘Mother Teresa,’ laughed Charlie. ‘They don’t have anyone else, Fleur,’ she added, her voice suddenly grave.

‘That is
so
not your problem. They were your employers. Lovely people, but still your employers. You have no obligation to do this. I can’t believe this is what you had planned for your life!’ said Fleur, getting more animated than Charlie had seen her since the wedding-cake-hurling incident.

‘No, it’s not what I planned because I have no plan. Surely this is better than a lot of things I could be doing?’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know, like sitting around waiting for the next loser with a shaved head and a rebellious side to pitch up and offer me a sob story,’ she said, staying calm.

‘This is about me now, is it?’ said Fleur, her hands on her hips like the petulant child she was trying so hard to leave behind.

‘Fleur, you can do whatever you want to with your life. You could go anywhere in the world and you could be pretty much anything you wanted to be and it baffles me to the point of doing you bodily harm that you choose to do bugger-all.’ Charlie was quite surprised at how calm she was.

‘I’ve been places, done things …’

‘You’ve been on lots of amazing holidays organised by, and mostly with, your parents and you’ve started lots of courses but what have you actually achieved by yourself?’ Charlie was quite enjoying this, not in a sadistic way but in an ‘I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time’ sort of way. She knew Fleur wouldn’t like it but it might actually do her some good.

‘Sometimes, Charlie, you are really… obtuse!’ and she went off after the children, who were now all milling about waiting for the gate to be opened, having been instructed to wait there on pain of death.

Charlie followed Fleur down and, like the children, became aware of the horrible noise coming from the stables. Like a rumbling bang of a noise ‘Dun, dun, d’d’d’d’d’d’dun,’ being repeated over and over again. Millie had her hands over her ears and was shouting. ‘No like it!’

‘Sorry Millie, it’s naughty Ralph,’ said Fleur, opening the gate and trying hard to hide her annoyance with Charlie, who was sauntering up behind them. ‘He doesn’t like being shut inside, especially when Clyde is out, so he drags his bucket along the metal bar gate to get attention.’

‘Like a prisoner in a film,’ said George.

‘Yes, exactly like that. Who’s got the Polos?’ asked Fleur, and Eleanor responded by nearly shoving them up her left nostril in her enthusiasm.

‘Steady on. Let’s cheer up Ralphy with the Polos, then who wants a ride?’

‘Me!’ shouted the girls together.

When the children were happily having a hay fight in the stable, Fleur gave Charlie a hug. ‘I’m sorry, you don’t need a lecture from me.’

‘I can live without it,’ smiled Charlie.

‘You’re amazing.’ She caught sight of the face Charlie pulled. ‘No, you are. Who else would do something like this? I wouldn’t, and you’re right – I do need to do more for myself. I’m guessing that’s what you meant before.’

‘Yeah, I’m sorry too. But sometimes with all the useless men, I get a bit frustrated with you. Sorry,’ said Charlie, swatting a fly that came too close.

‘Not all the men were useless,’ said Fleur. Evidently she couldn’t let that comment go. Charlie gave a non-committal shrug and leant against the stable wall. ‘Charlie, I’m not going to argue with you about this, it’s silly, but you know I’ve had some nice boyfriends. They just didn’t work out, that’s all.’

‘Nice?’

‘You’re going to criticise again, aren’t you?’

‘No, quite the opposite, I admire your perseverance on a theme that clearly isn’t working well for you.’

‘What theme?’ said Fleur, as she too leaned against the stables.

‘Well, let’s see. There was Veggie Victor, ran a stall on Romford market and had a laugh like a sonic boom – failed because?’

‘He got too possessive,’ answered Fleur on cue.

‘Swampy, part of the TA at the weekend and painter and decorator during the week – failed because?’

‘I don’t like the word ‘failed’. It’s very critical.’

‘Okay, it didn’t work out because?’