A Family Holiday (20 page)

‘Whale!’ she shouted before smacking her face back into the sea. The stingrays were greedy. Blue held Millie in one hand and squid in the other so she could watch the stingray eating from his hand. Eleanor and George were swimming around, surrounded by fish and frantically pointing at every one that came close to them, intermittently calling out Charlie’s name to gain her attention to see their latest encounter.

An hour seemed to whiz by. Charlie felt herself relax as she floated and watched the stingrays fly through the water beneath her. Even at a few metres’ deep she could see the bottom clearly and when she swam on the surface she felt like she was miles from anywhere. A wonderful sense of calm had engulfed her. The nearby reef had created a shallow pool that teemed with fish and Charlie marvelled how the clear water turned to turquoise nearby and then deep indigo as it became deeper and returned to the ocean.

Blue looked up, his eyes met Charlie’s and she grinned back at him, ‘This is amazing. Thank you,’

‘It’s perfect, isn’t it?’

It occurred to Fleur that she was probably the only person who didn’t know about the pay-off arrangement. They may all have agreed that it was the best thing to buy Rob off, to get helpless Fleur out of another situation she couldn’t handle herself. Fleur stopped and looked around her. She’d walked as far as the footbridge and had seen no sign of a taxi. She walked to the middle of the bridge and stood at the edge looking up the river. She took in deep breaths but wished she hadn’t, this was London after all. She needed a plan but that was very easy to think about and very hard to actually instigate. People bustled past, even jogged in some cases. All getting on with their lives, good and bad, straightforward and complicated, walk in the park and heartbreakingly difficult, but all getting on with them.

She was staring at nothing when her phone rang.

‘How did it go?’ asked Jonathan, concern etched into his voice.

‘Basically, it is one giant bed bug.’

‘I take it that’s some sort of metaphor?’

‘The bed bug is Rob.’

‘Ah, I see. I’ll be free at twelve. Do you want to meet for lunch?’

‘No thanks, there’s things I need to do. Your offer of a bed for a bit, does it still stand?’

‘Absolutely, and if you like I could help you with that business plan.’

‘Thanks Jonathan, you’ve been really kind. I don’t want to take advantage, but when you keep making offers I can’t refuse
…
’

‘Then you should know that I also make a mean Thai red curry.’

Fleur re-joined the trickle of people crossing the footbridge, her step feeling a little lighter despite her unsuitable footwear. She headed into the Canary Wharf shops on a mission to purchase a couple of complete sets of clothes and, most importantly, some sensible shoes. Well, the last bit was a lie to herself, but she would at least attempt to find something slightly more comfortable than the stilts she was currently enduring.

Back at Jonathan’s flat, Fleur found herself eagerly anticipating his arrival. She checked herself in the mirror one last time. She was pleased with the casual outfit she’d bought; you could never go wrong with skinny jeans and a Thomas Pink white shirt. She’d also managed to stock up on Jo Malone essentials so she smelt like herself again and not as if Jonathan was shadowing her. Sadly, she had failed to obtain the one thing she went for – sensible shoes. LK Bennett had failed her. The shop was her idea of shoe heaven and every pair was a beauty, so she had made a purchase but she wouldn’t be running any marathons in these.

Jonathan arrived home and he was talking on his mobile as well as struggling with a full Waitrose bag and his briefcase. Fleur was almost bouncing on her new heels at the sight of him, she had so much to tell him. When she could see that his call wasn’t going to end quickly she decided to look a little less desperate for attention, so relieved him of the shopping and went to put the coffee machine on. She earwigged Jonathan’s conversation and was impressed by how official and commanding he sounded. The person he was speaking to was quite irate as she could hear the raised voice but couldn’t make out the words and Jonathan was giving as good as he got in an utterly professional manner, of course. Fleur frothed the milk and lost the thread of the conversation for a short time. As she ladled froth onto the coffees she tuned back into the phone discussion.

‘…as I have explained repeatedly; Miss French informed us of her intentions and gained verbal agreement from Social Services, yourself and your father, who are currently the closest individuals we have to trustees or guardians, and she confirmed all this in writing to us… No, I do not feel that there is any cause to seek her immediate dismissal on the grounds of… hello?’ Jonathan switched off his phone. ‘Thank God she’s gone.’ He smiled at Fleur and, taking in the domestic picture of her making coffee for him, his smile broadened.

Fleur was gripping the steel milk jug. ‘That was Ruth, wasn’t it?’

He nodded. ‘I think Charlie might have a problem, but don’t worry I’ll do whatever I can. I promise.’ He gave a short smile. ‘Tell me about your day,’ he said, taking one of the coffees and looking at her intently, making the little bean of excitement inside her start to jig about again.

They spent a relaxed and companionable evening that was interrupted only by two calls from Fleur’s mother and one from her father. Fleur managed to convince her mother that she was staying in London to focus on her business idea and she ignored her father’s call, just seeing his number flash up on her phone had made her cross. Jonathan had listened intently to all the details of Fleur’s day and she could tell he was genuinely interested. She didn’t get this very often; she knew people found her a bit superficial but Jonathan made her feel valued and that was a lovely trait in a friend.

He had also been true to his word and had made a delicious curry from scratch that she was very impressed by; she wouldn’t have known where to start. Her mother had long ago given up on ever passing on her culinary prowess to her youngest child. When the conversation moved onto Charlie she could sense his unease and he repeatedly mentioned client confidentiality although he told her everything anyway.

‘Tomorrow I need to produce a letter from Charlie. It will sit on file as proof, you see, because now I’ve told Ruth that there is one I need to create one…’

‘I see,’ said Fleur, nodding earnestly. There was something in Jonathan’s eyes that he was trying to get across and she wasn’t picking up on it, ‘and you’re worried because it’s not ethical?’ she ventured.

‘Yes, that too, but I’m also worried because there is no letter and I don’t write like a girl …’

‘Oh, you want me to forge a letter from Charlie.’ The penny finally dropped. ‘Of course, I’d love to. It’s no problem. In fact it’s quite exciting. Get me a pen and paper!’ she said, pulling her chair closer to the table.

They wrote it out in rough first with Jonathan dictating and Fleur changing his words to sound like Charlie and not a lawyer trying to talk street. When they were happy with it, Fleur copied it out onto some thick writing paper in her best Charlie-style scrawl and signed it with a flourish.

‘The signature will be damn-near perfect,’ she said proudly. ‘We used to copy each other’s signatures all the time when we were younger. Charlie is particularly good at it. She forged Ma’s signature on a sick note for me once and you really couldn’t tell the difference. Unfortunately, I’d written the letter and I’d spelled influenza wrong, so that gave it away, but otherwise it was the perfect crime.’

‘Let’s hope this is enough to buy her a bit more time,’ said Jonathan, folding the letter neatly and slipping it into his briefcase.

During their second week in Antigua, Charlie found herself once again lying on a sun lounger watching the lights of the boats in the bay twinkle like Christmas. The children were sleeping well here. Charlie wasn’t sure if it was the fact that they were on the go all day – either swimming, digging in the sand or playing cricket, or whether they were taking the Antiguan advice of ‘Feel the breeze’ to heart, but they were definitely relaxing.

Someone once told her that sea air was charged with healthy negative ions that meant you absorbed more oxygen and that made you sleepy. She didn’t know if it was true but she liked the fact that something was working and it was giving her time to relax in the evenings. Time to think through all the things they had done that day and carefully store the memories. Somehow she felt even closer to the children here. Maybe it was because it was just her and them, she wasn’t sure. She let out a jaw-aching yawn and heard someone laugh behind her.

‘You still awake, party animal?’ asked Blue, as he nudged her legs out of the way and joined her on her sun lounger for what was becoming a regular evening visit.

‘Only just. How do you manage to get any work done? I have done nothing but walk to the beach, lie there half the day and walk back, and I’m shattered.’

‘You get used to it after a while. I was wondering if you fancied a lime tomorrow?’

‘I think Berta has got all the fruit we need, thanks.’

‘Oh, I think you’ll need this type of lime. It’s the outdoor party kind. Lime is the local word for get-together and they don’t get better than Sunday nights at Shirley Heights. Berta will child-mind and Ted can come if he fancies it. It’s a big tradition here. I promise you’ll love it.’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘You could walk from here, mind, but I know what a busy life you lead.’ Charlie took a swipe at him and the back of her hand hit the solid muscle of his bicep, making her eyebrows raise in interest.

‘Is there drinking?’ she asked.

‘Most definitely.’

‘Then I’m not sure about Ted going…’

‘Come on, let the boy live a little. How often does he get to let off a bit of steam? He’s got no parents… I mean
…
’ Blue sighed and the air whistled through his teeth.

‘That’s why we have to be the grown ups,’ said Charlie, struggling with her desire to let Ted off the leash and experience things in the adult world and her need to keep him out of harm’s way.

‘It’s your call. I’ll not pressure you but if you let him come I promise to keep a close eye on him.’

‘I’ll think about it. Now clear off, I’m going to bed.’

‘Great. I’ll pick you both up before sunset,’ and he started to jog away.

‘When the hell is that exactly?’ laughed Charlie, but he’d gone.

Berta had taken Sunday off, apart from the planned baby-sitting in the evening. So the children had toast for breakfast, which was a huge disappointment after the varied selection of omelettes, fruit hedgehogs and pancakes that Berta had been providing. They decided to take breakfast outside, sit out on the deck and take in the early-morning sun. The forlorn sight of the toast was instantly cheered up by the arrival of a hummingbird having its own breakfast from the bright-pink flowering plant that was sprawling out of a large urn.

Charlie felt bad for flinching when she had first caught sight of it, as with a quick glance it looked like a giant fly – the stuff of her nightmares. It appeared black at first but there was a hint of green and in the same split second it jolted to a new position and the true brilliance of its vivid colour was revealed. There was a blur of wings around the small body as it jerked from flower to flower, moving in any and every direction without warning. It was quite mesmerising to watch and all complaints about breakfast were quickly forgotten.

At Blue’s suggestion, Charlie had decided to walk the children round to English Harbour; he promised it wasn’t far and if they went early-ish they would be out of the worst of the sun. There was also the promise of an Italian restaurant for lunch that interested Ted.

Blue had promised it was a twenty-minute walk, but with four children and an unscheduled toilet stop at Berta’s house, which was on the way, it took them nearer forty and Charlie had lost count of how many times she had replaced Millie’s hat. Charlie was not surprised to find that English Harbour was pretty much the boat-mooring facility she had envisaged, but still it was a change of scenery and wherever you looked in Antigua it was stunning.

They had a good look at the boats and found somewhere to sit that was a little shady whilst they waited for the restaurant to open. They could see Nelson’s Dockyard across the bay, making them feel like old hands as they reminisced about their island tour with Blue.

At twelve sharp the restaurant opened and they flooded in as if they hadn’t been fed for days. The menu was familiar and the children debated long and hard over what to have. Soon they were tucking into meatballs, pasta and a selection of pizzas and silence reigned briefly. Charlie spotted the public telephone and felt a pang of guilt. She had no intention of switching on her mobile while she was here in case anyone was tracking it’s location so she hadn’t even told Fleur that they had arrived safely. She spent the meal tussling with her conscience and whether or not to make the phone call. If she called and things were kicking off – by ‘things’ she pictured Ruth having a meltdown – what would she do? Would she pack them up and get on the next flight? She wanted to believe that all was well, that nobody had even noticed they were missing and if she didn’t call she could go on believing this for the rest of the holiday. Or, if she called, perhaps she could get that confirmed and stop worrying?

Ted was shovelling in chicken and jalapeno when he noticed Charlie’s gaze was once again drawn to the phone. ‘You can call home if you like?’

‘There won’t be anyone in, though!’ laughed George.

‘I hope not because if there is someone there, they’re burglars,’ pointed out Eleanor, looking a little alarmed.

Millie continued to eat and hum. Charlie stroked her hair and smiled at the others. ‘We’re okay as we are, and I’m sure everything is fine at home.’ Right now everything was good and she didn’t want to unsettle anyone, so she focused on her margarita pizza and tried to ignore the temptation of the phone.

An afternoon on the beach followed, with the usual sand-castle and trench building. Charlie was starting to relax a little and didn’t watch them constantly, although they didn’t stray far and always remained within shouting distance. They weren’t the quietest of children so she could usually work out where they were without looking up. Today, Millie had decided she was in charge and this was causing great discussion but Charlie was a firm believer in letting them sort it out themselves wherever possible.

Ted was restless and couldn’t seem to settle. He had plugged and unplugged his earphones a dozen times at least, been for a stroll up the beach and back and had a half-hearted attempt at a sandcastle with Millie. He jumped up as he spotted Blue’s speedboat appear from behind the ruins of a fort and head for the jetty.

‘I’m going to see if Blue needs a hand,’ he said, as he jogged off along the sand. Charlie looked at Ted as he jogged away; he was definitely having a growth spurt, in fact he was growing like a weed. George abandoned his trench and ran off after Ted, they were getting on well. They were all getting on well. Antigua suited everyone and Charlie was glad that she hadn’t made the phone call home.