A Family Holiday (13 page)

‘I’m turning in. Night, Ted.’

‘Thanks for today… it was a bit like Christmas,’ said Ted, looking thoughtful.

‘Yeah, I guess it was, but not as cold,’ she smiled.

‘Did you do it to show me what I would be losing if I ran away?’ he asked, leaning over the sofa to assess her reaction.

‘No, I didn’t plan to.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Perhaps on some other level I might have. I don’t know.’

‘Whatever, thanks. It was a good day,’ he said, unfolding his long legs and giving her a friendly nudge as he walked past.

If I’d realised it was showing you what you’d be losing I never would have done it, she thought, because I fear you will be losing it all too soon anyway.

Fleur loved the Criterion restaurant and was suitably impressed when Jonathan had suggested that they meet up there so that he could support her with progressing her annulment, even though she wasn’t officially his client. Fleur suspected that Jonathan liked her but she was very grateful for his support, as she felt completely out of her depth. The wedding had seemed so easy to arrange, whereas this felt serious. She had arrived early and was comfortably settled in the neo-Byzantine extravagance of the long thin restaurant, covered in marble and gold. The utter decadence of the room had always enchanted her, ever since her parents had brought here as a child and she’d imagined that the coloured mosaic shapes were sweets.

She sipped her mineral water and checked her phone. Sure enough, a text had arrived silently from Duggan. He wanted to know if she fancied a drink in the local pub later. She smiled to herself and hoped that this meant he was now single. She was tapping out her reply when a waiter escorted Jonathan to the table.

‘I’m sorry you’ve been waiting,’ he said, giving her an appropriately distanced air kiss before taking his seat.

‘I’m always early. I love this place and could sit here for hours simply looking at the décor. Sorry, you must think me very dull.’

‘No, not at all. It’s a beautiful room – it’s a place of history. Churchill and Lloyd George regularly dined here.’

‘Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson,’ suggested Fleur, with a coy smile. She knew the history of the Criterion well, including its references in film and literature.

‘Martine McCutcheon is a regular,’ he said, nodding over Fleur’s left shoulder.

‘She is; must be a favourite of hers.’

‘It’s one of my favourites too,’ he said, reaching for the menu. ‘Have you ordered?’

‘Not yet,’ she said, hastily sending her acceptance to Duggan and putting her mobile away.

They discussed the menu at great length and both decided on the lemon sole. Jonathan didn’t have time for three courses as he had appointments booked in. He looked more relaxed today and his hair was a little less regimented than before.

‘Have you spoken to Charlie?’

‘I’m sorry, Fleur, I can’t discuss another case,’ he said softly.

‘No, I wasn’t asking you to.’

‘I see. Are you and Charlie close?’

‘Yes, very.’

There was a short silence whilst they both sipped their glasses of water until Fleur broke it by asking about other favourite restaurants and the conversation moved on from there to jobs, which was a very short conversation. Next was music and a quick-fire question-and-answer round provided some laughter.

‘Most embarrassing song you love,’ asked Jonathan, leaning closer to the table.

‘Oh, easy. But I can’t say, or you’ll think that’s the real reason for my divorce!’

‘Okay, if I tell you mine, you have to divulge yours and I bet mine’s far worse. Deal?’

‘Deal,’ said Fleur, fidgeting in her seat and staring expectantly at Jonathan.

‘Barry Manilow…’

‘Copacabana!’ they said in unison and Fleur’s hands shot to her face in surprise as the laughter tumbled out.

‘I can’t believe we have the same taste in bad songs,’ she laughed.

‘What do you mean bad song? I love that song!’ Jonathan protested.

Jonathan ordered coffee for them both as well as the bill. He was a traditional man at heart; he expected to pay and Fleur was happy to let him. The chatter and laughter had continued throughout lunch until Jonathan turned the conversation around to the legal discussion he’d used as the pretence for the meeting.

‘Do you have any questions about the annulment or are you happy with the process?’

‘I think I’m all right, actually. Rob isn’t going to contest it. I think all I do now is wait to hear from the court.’

‘That’s about it. You don’t even have to attend court as they’ll send you the decree nisi, which is the same document you’d receive for a divorce, and the decree absolute will follow two months later.’

‘And that’s when I’m officially unmarried?’

‘Yes, precisely,’ he said, his eyes lingering on her face. ‘Look, I’m really sorry but I have to go. It’s been a delight to see you again.’

Fleur giggled at his choice of words, ‘I’ve enjoyed it too. Can we keep in touch… in case I have any more legal questions?’

‘Absolutely, you have my number, call any time.’

On the train home, Fleur thought about Jonathan and she felt pleased to have found such an approachable solicitor. She’d expected him to be stuffy and intimidating, but she felt they were becoming friends and this was quite a new thing for her. The men in her life had always been quite similar and relationships had never been platonic, because that was never what they wanted. Jonathan appeared happy to settle for platonic and that appealed to her.

Fleur also had a good think about the one awkward moment they had encountered in their conversation when he had asked her what she did for a living and she had no answer at all. There had been a brief silence before Jonathan had expertly steered the subject to a more palatable topic. She had taken charge of the Rob situation and that was all progressing well and now she realised that she needed to take charge of the rest of her life as chasing Ralph around the stable with a grooming brush was not a long-term career choice.

She tipped her head back, closed her eyes and let the rumble of the train take over. She tried to empty her head of all other thoughts. Now all she needed was for a genius idea to pop into her mind. She needed a job. Actually, more than that she needed a career or, even better, a business idea. However, the journey to Godalming apparently wasn’t sufficient time for a genius of an idea to materialise.

Camille arrived before Ruth and looked suitably embarrassed as Charlie let her in. Charlie was by now resigned to the fact that there was no point arguing about the fostering situation and even less point blaming Camille. There was only one person to blame for the situation she was now in, and that was herself. Over the years she had looked back on things she had done in her youth. She had been able to square them for the situations they had been at the time and the fact that she had monumentally turned her life around in recent years, but now all that counted for diddly squat.

Charlie was hovering in the doorway expecting Ruth at the door at any second. Millie was a bit clingy after they’d done the school run, Charlie wasn’t sure if she was coming down with something, but she was insisting on being carried around the house and was looking forlorn.

‘Are you okay?’ asked Camille, as she perched uncomfortably on the edge of the sofa.

‘I’ll be honest. No, I’m not okay. But we need to think of another plan. If Ruth takes on the guardianship and takes on the trust fund they’ll end up in ‘care’,’ she mouthed the word for Millie’s benefit, ‘by Christmas – I’d put money on it,’ said Charlie, who was struggling to stand still as she spoke.

‘We need to give her a chance. That’s the idea of conducting the visits here. That way I can see how she interacts with the children,’ said Camille. Charlie wanted to argue but she knew it was a pointless waste of energy. Millie gave a little whinge as Charlie swapped her dead weight to the other hip.

‘I want the best for the children, Camille. That’s all.’

The doorbell rang and it was like winter arriving as Charlie opened the door to the frostiness that was Ruth. The rain lashing down behind her added to the scene. Ruth barely acknowledged Charlie and completely ignored Millie as she walked past them and into the living room.

‘Good morning, Ruth,’ said Charlie to the swirling draught she had left behind. ‘How are you?’ she added as she joined them in the living room.

‘Fine.’

‘Coffee?’ asked Charlie, rocking Millie, who was now trying to plait Charlie’s hair, which basically involved twisting it into elaborate knots. Ruth ignored her.

‘Shall we start?’ said Ruth to Camille with a brief smile and Charlie rolled her eyes.

‘Would you like me to leave Millie with you,’ said Charlie, who went to pass her to Ruth, who visibly recoiled from the already fretting toddler.

‘Yes, please,’ said Camille. Charlie carefully deposited Millie on the rug between Camille and Ruth. She handed Millie her precious Pooh Bear and went in search of something else to keep her amused. She returned with some bricks to a grizzling Millie, who was pointing forcibly at Ruth and repeating, ‘Go way! Go way!’ That’s my girl, thought Charlie. Camille started to comfort Millie, so Charlie put down the bricks and reluctantly left them to it.

She knew the right thing to do was to keep herself busy, especially as she had plenty that needed doing around the house, but she couldn’t. She had to listen at the door. She felt like the naughtiest of schoolgirls but it had to be done. Ruth was the opposition and she now had a significant head start; Charlie needed to discover something miraculous if she was to stand half a chance of beating her. Not that it was a competition, but it most definitely was a race she felt she had to win.

Eventually, Millie calmed down but was reluctant to leave Camille and wouldn’t show Ruth what she was making with the bricks, preferring to turn her back on her and glare pointedly over her shoulder at selected intervals. When Ruth smiled at her Millie responded to the gesture by sticking her tongue out.

‘That sort of behaviour simply shouldn’t be tolerated. Do you see what I’m up against?’ said Ruth.

‘She is still very young, Ruth. How do you think you will go about improving your relationship with each of the children?’

‘By hiring a proper nanny,’ stated Ruth simply. ‘I am not the best person for the job, I never claimed to be, but I can employ someone who will teach them good manners and care for them. Up until now it’s been very much an amateur job, as you can see.’

‘You might surprise yourself if you spent more time with the children. I’m not going to force you into something, but I would like you to consider being a bit more hands-on with them.’

Ruth took a deep breath and held it for a moment. ‘Perhaps I could try, but if that didn’t work then I could get a nanny.’

Camille looked pleased. ‘Splendid approach.’

Millie started to throw the bricks at Ruth.

‘How quickly can we move things along?’ asked Ruth, failing to dodge a brick that Millie lobbed over as it bounced off her temple. ‘Stop it!’ she said in a harsh tone. Millie started to wail.

‘Quite quickly, assuming there aren’t any issues. If we fail to find a suitable guardian I think they said the trust will be administered independently,’ said Camille, struggling to be heard over Millie’s noise. Camille looked from Ruth to Millie in the vain hope that the woman would register the child’s distress, but there wasn’t a flicker from Ruth.

‘Are you saying I’m unfit?’

‘No, I’m saying that we have to complete a full assessment and report our findings.’ Camille was close to pointing at the now bright-red and distressed child, as there was still no response from Ruth.

‘For goodness sake,’ said Charlie, barely separating her teeth to speak as she barged into the room and scooped Millie up into her arms. Millie’s wail reduced quickly to a whimper as she buried her tear-stained face into Charlie’s t-shirt. Charlie went and held the front door open so that the two women could leave; she couldn’t bear to speak to either of them. How could they use Millie like that? Even a minute of distress was too much in Charlie’s book. Camille muttered something about being in touch as she left. Ruth hovered slightly in the doorway and looked as if she was trying to think of something to say to Millie. Millie decided to fill the silence instead and started waving manically in Ruth’s face.

‘Bye, bye stupid man! Bye, bye stupid man!’ Ruth shook her head in exasperation and left and, as the door shut with a satisfying slam, Millie and Charlie both cheered.

After school, Eleanor wanted to put on a show and Millie had a leading role, which kept them nicely entertained whilst Charlie had a serious word with Ted in the kitchen. She updated him on everything and posed the question of what their next move should be. Ted thought for a while, which Charlie found highly annoying; she hated wasting time, even just a few minutes.

‘We need to persuade Felix to do it. Perhaps we could pay him?’

‘We’d need to find him first,’ said Charlie with a snort, trying very hard not to wonder where he had gone. Despite his many shortcomings he had made an impression on her, he was someone she would find hard to forget.

‘Private detective?’

‘I think we have to accept that Felix has gone,’ said Charlie and she swallowed hard. ‘If he doesn’t want to be found it’s a waste of time and effort.’

Ted scratched his chin thoughtfully. ‘What we need is Ruth to get through the assessment but to agree to you being our permanent carer,’ he said eventually.

‘Yes, that would be ideal, but she hates me and even if we did convince her to keep me on we can’t trust her not to change her mind later.’

‘No, but we could get her to sign something legal. Couldn’t we?’

‘Mmm, some sort of contract. I like that idea. But what is her incentive? Why would she do that?’ asked Charlie as Ted nodded sagely and another long, annoying pause followed.

‘We need something on her,’ said Ted flatly, brushing away imaginary crumbs from the granite counter.

‘Blackmail?’

‘Ooh, dirty word, Charlie. I’m thinking something to persuade her.’

‘Yep, that’s blackmail,’ said Charlie, almost leaning back, before realising that the barstools had no backs to them. How did Ted manage to be almost horizontal on his and not fall off? ‘Okay, so what dirt do we have on Aunt Ruthless?’

Meeting up at the pub with Duggan had made for a fun evening. Sadly the wet weather had meant they couldn’t sit outside, but that was the continued unpredictability of the British summer. The conversation had been a little stilted to start with, but once Fleur had asked Duggan if he had any plans for his future and where he thought the farm job might lead him, he was away. Fleur half-listened to his plans, which centred around learning all he could at the farm and setting up his own small holding. He even had an idea for managed allotments.