A Family Holiday (5 page)

Fleur looked around for the heaviest thing to throw at Rob. She grabbed the top tier of the wedding cake in both hands and, propelled by her anger, launched it into Rob’s face. The reception, which had been in full swing, abruptly halted as everyone turned to stare at the bride and groom, apart from little Millie and Fleur’s Uncle Steve, who carried on doing their version of the Macarena, even though the band had stopped.

‘Ow! One of the figures went in my eye!’ complained Rob, as chunks of elaborately decorated chocolate cake fell to the floor.

‘That would be the bride!’ shouted Fleur.

‘You’re overreacting!’

‘You think!’ snapped Fleur as she hastily gathered up the acres of her dress and exited the room with as much flounce as she could muster.

Sunday was a very strange day for Fleur. She awoke in her own bed, in her own bedroom, to the usual sound of birdsong, but this was the last place she had expected to be the morning after her wedding. She pulled the duvet tight around her and had a little weep to herself. She had cried a lot yesterday and now told herself that after this little cry, that was it. Rob simply was not worth it. Despite everything he’d promised, he was never going to stay faithful to her, he was a charmer and charming women was what he did. On top of that, who would decide to leave their new bride only a couple of weeks after the wedding and go off around the world with a band? Especially a band that changed their lead singer virtually monthly, due to what they loosely termed ‘artistic differences’. All the things that she had thought were exciting and made Rob stand out from the others seemed silly today, and she hated the fact that he was dominating her thoughts.

Fleur felt bad for her parents too. She had been waiting for the ‘I told you so’ lecture but it hadn’t been presented yet – and something told her that it wouldn’t be either. She also felt their relief – they were never keen on her boyfriends and Rob was no exception, but this time there was a divorce to sort out. Fleur rubbed her eyes and slid out of bed. At least she could make herself useful, seeing as she wasn’t getting on a plane to Borneo any more.

After her shower she checked her phone. No messages, no missed calls. She’d asked Rob not to get in touch and it looked like he was doing as he’d been told. Fleur pulled on some leggings and a big jumper and made her way out of the house. It was a little chilly as the sky was all clouds today – a mass of painted stripes, aspirin-white on more aspirin-white and a drizzle in the air.

Fleur could hear the noise long before she reached the stables. Of all the ponies and horses Fleur’s family had owned, Ralph was the most demanding. Fleur was a fraction late with his breakfast this morning so he was making his presence known. As she opened the main door the bucket came flying out at head height, narrowly missing her.

‘Ralph!’ she shouted. The small fat Shetland pony stared her down. His big brown eyes full of the devil. He hated having to wait for his breakfast. He snorted and turned around to present Fleur with his particularly large backside.

‘Delightful,’ said Fleur, ‘Morning Clyde,’ she said. Clyde was her oldest love. The heavy head of her horse lolled over his stable door in welcome. ‘Ralph’s in a bad mood,’ she said and Clyde vigorously nodded his agreement. He didn’t, actually, but he always liked to shake his head in a variety of directions first thing in a morning once his stable was open, so it always entertained Fleur to ask him a question.

‘Sorry Clyde,’ she said sneaking him a polo mint. ‘You looked lonely. That was the only reason we got you a stable mate. Shame it turned out to be one with satanic tendencies.’ Fleur wondered if it was because Ralph was so small and Clyde was so big, but eventually she’d come to the conclusion that Ralph’s bad attitude was simply because he was a little bastard.

As it turned out, Clyde would have been far better off being lonely as, from the second he stepped out of the horsebox, Ralph decided he was in charge and proceeded to nip at Clyde’s fetlocks. At any given opportunity Ralph would chase Clyde away and generally make his life a misery, but none of the Van Bentons had the heart to send him back to the rescue centre.

Ralph stamped his hoof in frustration as Fleur hung up his hay bag.

‘Darling, you don’t need to be doing this today,’ said her mother, marching across the yard. ‘I was all set to sort out the boys this morning. You could have had a lie-in.’ She kissed Fleur lightly on the cheek.

‘I’m okay, thanks. I might take Clyde out for a ride.’

‘Good idea, but come and have breakfast first. Poppy will be leaving shortly and she’ll want to see you before she goes.’

‘All right,’ conceded Fleur.

‘Any contact at all from you know who?’

‘He’s not Voldemort, mother! You can use his name, but no I’ve heard nothing from him,’ she said as she felt a buzzing sensation from the mobile in her pocket.

Charlie opened the door and then wished she could instantly slam it shut again.

‘Hi,’ said Felix, ‘look we got off on the wrong foot.’

‘Twice,’ stated Charlie with a bored, slow blink.

‘Yeah, sorry. Everything feels like such a mess, I wondered if we could have a chat. Just you and me.’

‘Is this so you can give me my notice?’

Felix chuckled, ‘No, suspicious Londoner. I want to talk to you about the kids. I think you’re a moody cow but I also think you know them the best.’

At least he was honest, thought Charlie. ‘Wait there.’ She left Ted in charge, grabbed her umbrella and met Felix on the doorstep. ‘Posh coffee?’

‘Yeah, sounds good,’ he said.

‘You’re paying,’ smiled Charlie as she led the way.

The coffee shop was busy and they stood awkwardly in silence in the queue next to each other and gave their orders separately. They found a small table shoved into a corner and settled down. Felix looked around.

‘So many miserable people,’ he said. ‘Do you think it’s the weather that makes them like that?’

‘It’s summer.’

‘Not so as you’d notice. It’s raining most of the time.’

Charlie looked at him. ‘Are you not a fan of London?’

‘Hate it. It’s cold, wet, there’s too much traffic, it’s noisy, nothing feels clean, nothing
is
clean and nobody cares about anyone else.’

‘Definitely not a fan, then,’ she sipped her coffee. ‘Thanks for this,’ she said, raising her mug.

‘And everything is ludicrously expensive,’ he said, with a broad smile.

They sipped drinks and glanced at each other for a minute or so and Charlie felt her cheeks colour up. What was that all about?

‘We need to talk about the kids,’ said Felix at last. ‘I don’t think there is anyone who can be the kind of guardian that Tobes and Helen would have wanted. You know, someone in the family who could love the children like their own.’

Charlie swallowed hard. It wasn’t meant to be but it felt like a blow to her relationship with them.

‘What about Roger?’ she suggested. ‘He’s their grandfather and he wouldn’t actually have to do anything.’

‘He’s a bit of a long shot, being elderly, and wasn’t he a bit unsteady on his feet?’

‘He’s got arthritis. He’s in a nursing home.’

Felix shrugged and fiddled with the handle of his mug. ‘He wouldn’t be very involved, so I don’t know what Social Services would say about that. Or the solicitors, as it was me and Ruth who were named in the will.’

Charlie knew the odds were stacking up against Roger. ‘I’m not saying he’s a great option but he could be
an
option.’

‘So is Ruth. She’s keen to make sure the children have a financially secure future, but she’s not the mothering type.’

‘That’s an understatement,’ said Charlie and they both smiled at each other and held eye contact. ‘So that leaves you,’ said Charlie, and she knew she looked like a puppy as she eyed him hopefully.

Felix blinked and broke the intensity. ‘I am the last thing those kids need.’

‘But you don’t have to actually do anything. I would look after them…’

‘That’s not what their parents would have wanted.’

‘Then stump up!’ said Charlie, sounding crosser than she intended. Felix looked taken aback. Charlie tried to relax the situation with a smile. ‘What I mean is…’ she thought for a moment, this was tricky because stump up was exactly what she meant. ‘Nobody is ever going to replace their parents. They just need someone to love them. You could do that.’

Felix stood up abruptly, bumping into the table and knocking over what was left of Charlie’s coffee. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said waving at the coffee. ‘I’ll be in touch.’ He squeezed his way out of the coffee shop repeatedly saying ‘excuse me’ as he went and repeatedly he was ignored.

On Monday morning, Charlie sat on the floor of the living room, her ear getting quite soggy from the prolonged closeness of the telephone. She had been listening to Fleur for the last fifty-two minutes and if she didn’t manage to get her off the phone soon she wouldn’t have time to put the vacuum cleaner round before the lady from Social Services arrived. She probably didn’t need to do it as the cleaning company did the house every Wednesday but, what with Wriggly, who did so love to get on the sofas and roll around on the carpet, Charlie was keen to make sure that everything looked in place. And Charlie thought that fifty-two minutes of being conciliatory was enough for her blunder. Thankfully, Fleur had quickly forgiven Charlie for not telling her about Rob’s infidelity as she was far too busy directing all her venom at Rob.

Charlie tuned back to what Fleur was saying.

‘I think Ma is secretly pleased. She won’t admit it, but she hadn’t really taken to him.’ Fleur had now followed her mother’s lead and taken to avoiding using Rob’s name and instead he was either referred to as ‘him’, ‘Rob the Knob’ or Charlie’s personal favourite and all her own work, the ‘bridegloom’.

‘Like all of us you want someone who will make you happy, Fleur, and Knob simply wasn’t the man for the job.’

‘But I loved him, Charlie.’ Fleur’s voice faltered. Charlie couldn’t endure another round of tears. There simply wasn’t time.

‘He didn’t deserve you. Look, Fleur, what you need is a duvet day with a bunch of rubbish films. Shall I come round later?’

‘No, thank you. I’m okay. But lunch somewhere special on Wednesday or Thursday might be nice.’

‘Okay, let’s do that. Text me.’

‘Will do. And when we meet I’ll give you the details of Pa’s friend, whose nanny is about to go on maternity leave. Pa’s already put a good word in for you so I think the job’s yours. Bye.’

With relief, Charlie put the phone down. Her head was swimming. Should she be thinking about looking for a new job? Perhaps it was foolish to think that whoever became the children’s guardian would want to keep her on. It was a huge assumption. In which case there would no longer be a role for her to play. The trouble was that although Fleur’s suggestion made absolute sense Charlie couldn’t deal with the amount of emotion her thoughts were stirring up. Right now she didn’t want anything else to change, so she would stick her head in the sand – or in this case, the cupboard – and carry on.

She was tugging the vacuum cleaner out of the cupboard when she heard the doorbell go. Surely that couldn’t be the social worker? If it was they were twenty minutes early. Charlie pushed the cleaner back in and ran up to the front door. Sure enough, there, on the doorstep, was a petite woman with an insipid smile and very floral clothes. She was most definitely a social worker and, unfortunately, one of those who could have been made with a cookie cutter. Sometimes you had one who was bright, cheerful, knew a bit about the world and then there were the rest; this woman was most definitely one of the rest, decided Charlie.

‘Hi,’ said Charlie, stepping back to let her in.

‘Hello, I’m Camille,’ she simpered and Charlie inwardly sighed. ‘Would you like to see some identification?’ she asked.

‘No, it’s okay. You’re from Social Services. We’re expecting you.’

‘I am,’ said Camille, looking totally surprised.

‘Although you’re a little early.’

‘So I am,’ said Camille, without looking at her watch. Charlie was already suspicious. Was this an attempt to catch Charlie off guard? Charlie showed her through to the living room and shut the door.

Charlie went down the stairs at speed, through the kitchen and into the playroom. George and Millie were play wrestling and Millie’s hair looked as if a troupe of monkeys had rampaged through it.

‘George, Millie! Stop it now,’ said Charlie, trying not to shout. Millie jumped up and promptly stomped on George’s groin.

George let out a yelp. ‘My testicles!’ said George, nursing the front of his trousers.

‘George!’ Charlie pointed at Millie and tried very hard not to laugh.

For the first fifteen minutes the meeting with Camille went fine. Camille had introduced herself and gone through what usually happened in this situation and the process they would need to go through. Charlie had given her the children’s birth certificates so that she could copy down their details correctly.

‘I see that Edward is Mrs Cobley’s child from a previous relationship.’ It didn’t bode well for them that, despite her appearance, this social worker was on the ball.

‘Yes, Ted was the result of a relationship at university, as I understand it,’ said Charlie. ‘His father doesn’t keep in touch and Toby always brought him up as his own.’

‘However, this does mean that technically he isn’t orphaned, so if his father was able to look after him that would be an option for Edward.’

‘Ted is sixteen in September, he doesn’t know his father at all and Mr and Mrs Cobley wanted the children to stay together. It specifically stated it in their wills.’

‘Yes, of course, but Edward’s father should be made aware of the situation.’

‘Okay. I’ll tell him,’ said Charlie, who had absolutely no intention of doing so. ‘I know that it’s not straightforward having joint guardians so we wondered if Helen’s father, Roger Talbot, could be the children’s guardian instead?’

‘Oh, I wasn’t aware there were any other family members?’ Camille seemed to brighten up, as she poised her pen over her notebook. ‘How old is Mr Talbot and where does he live?’

‘He was seventy last year, they had a big party for him at the nursing home,’ said Charlie and she saw Camille’s brightness fade. ‘He has all his marbles, he’s only there because he’s got really bad arthritis.’

‘I see,’ said Camille as she made some notes.

‘Will I be able to stay on after the guardian is appointed?’

‘I don’t know, that would be up to the guardian, but what if you get a better job offer? What then?’

‘I stay here,’ said Charlie bluntly. ‘It’s not just a job to me.’

‘Yes, of course, but people’s priorities change and I need to check that everyone understands the implications of any arrangements. And, as I explained, the final decision will rest with a judge.’ She gave a weak smile and Charlie started to feel sweat form on her top lip.

‘Have the children returned to school?’ asked Camille.

‘No, not yet but both the schools have been really supportive. The tutors are in regular contact and have sent work across so that they don’t fall behind on their studies. I guess that’s the benefit of private schools.’

‘You’ll need to talk to the tutors about a plan for them to return.’ said Camille as she jotted down more notes but didn’t look up.

‘Yep, and talk to the children about it too,’ said Charlie as she wondered how she would broach that subject.

The door opened and in came Millie carrying a struggling Wriggly.

‘Wriggly needs a nappy,’ stated Millie, plonking the dog momentarily onto Charlie’s lap before he made his escape.

‘Come here, sweetheart,’ said Charlie, lifting Millie onto her knee. Millie snuggled into Charlie’s shoulder and stared at Camille.

‘So who do we have here?’ asked Camille, her business-like approach lost at the sight of the beautiful child with pouting lips.

‘This is Millie,’ said Charlie.

‘Ah, Amelia Alexandra Cobley,’ said Camille, checking her notes.

‘Th-b-th-sssssss,’ said Millie, blowing a magnificent raspberry at Camille.

‘Be nice,’ whispered Charlie in Millie’s ear and she instantly put on a beaming and slightly scary smile. Camille sat back a little. ‘How do you think the children are coping?’

‘I think the phrase is as well as can be expected.’

Camille nodded, ‘Any drastic changes in behaviour? Anything you need help with?’

‘Testicles,’ said Millie and Camille’s eyebrows shot up. Charlie inwardly cried.

‘Testicles! Testicles!’ chanted Millie happily.

Thankfully, Camille hadn’t seemed too shocked by Millie’s inappropriate chanting. She arranged to visit the following week and also to talk to each of the older children, to understand their wishes. Charlie saw Camille out and returned to the living room. She flopped down on to the sofa next to Millie.

‘How did you think that went?’ asked Charlie.

‘Testicles!’ said Millie.

‘Precisely,’ said Charlie.

Charlie was sound asleep when the phone went. She hated it when the phone rang in the middle of the night; it was usually a wrong number. Charlie didn’t have a landline in her room so it meant she would have to get out of bed and go downstairs. She tried to move an arm but realised that it was dead and trapped underneath a sleeping Eleanor. It seemed Eleanor had rolled that way, having been squeezed out by Millie, who was taking up an inordinate amount of room by sleeping in a star formation. This was not going to be an easy habit to break. Charlie pulled her arm from underneath the sleeping child and removed the weight from her feet that was in the form of a snoring Wriggly. That was another habit that needed to stop too, she thought, as she went downstairs on autopilot. The caller was persistent, so Charlie decided it was worth making the effort to answer it.

‘Hello?’ she said wearily.

‘Thank the Lord. I only had one call and I thought your mobile might be off so I called the house phone and you did pick up. Thank you, thank you,’ said a high-speed Fleur.

‘Uh, Fleur, it’s…’ Charlie looked at the clock ‘ten past two. What do you want?’

‘Um, I need you to come and get me, or I can get a taxi to yours, if that’s easier,’ said Fleur hurriedly.

‘Fleur, talk sense. What’s going on? Are you okay?’

‘Kind of yes and kind of no.’

‘Fleur!’ barked Charlie, her patience worn through already.

‘I went to Rob’s digs and I slashed his tyres, but their neighbourhood watch is really very good so they called the police, who arrested me. I’m in Harold Hill police station and I can’t ring Ma and Pa – they’ll kill me and I don’t think a taxi would risk taking me home as it’s quite far and I don’t have any cash. So I called you and the nice policeman says I need to wind up the call.’ Her voice was getting faster and faster, like someone declaring all the terms and conditions on a lending advert.

‘You prize idiot. Get a taxi here. I’ll pay for it, but you’re paying me back,’ and Charlie put the phone down because, if she didn’t put it down now, in about ten seconds she was going hurl it across the room.

Charlie’s cold feet were pacing the living-room floor, the boiling-mad sensation she could feel elsewhere hadn’t yet travelled that far. When she heard a car pull up outside she sprang towards the front door, grabbing her purse on the way. She opened the door briskly and a startled-looking Fleur stood outside with a knuckle aloft, ready to tap on the door. Charlie held out twenty-pound notes; Fleur took them and delivered them to the waiting cab driver. She slunk back up the steps, past Charlie and into the house. Even in an oversized jumper and her hair roughly tied back she still looked like she could be on the front of a magazine. Her hooded eyes were the only thing that gave her away.

Charlie held the door tightly and, with a lot of effort, shut it silently. She would far rather have let some of her temper out and slam it shut but that would wake the whole house and the children needed their sleep. She was so cross with Fleur she didn’t know where to start.

‘I actually got arrested,’ said Fleur, trying to hide a smile by biting her bottom lip.

‘You idiot! What the hell did you think you were doing?’

Fleur crept onto one of the big chairs, pulled her feet underneath her and covered her knees with her jumper. ‘Come on, Charlie, it’s not really serious. Even the policeman laughed when I told him the story. I think he thought Knob deserved it too.’

Charlie knew that Fleur could charm anyone and a gullible policeman would not be a challenge. A quick flutter of the eyelashes and the ‘I got dumped at my own wedding’ story and he didn’t stand a chance. But Charlie was full of temper and she had to channel it somewhere.

‘They charged you, so you have a criminal record now. What happens when you want to get a job? These things hang around forever,’ said Charlie, speaking from bitter experience. ‘And what will your parents say when they find out?’

‘Knob will drop the charges when he’s calmed down and, well, Ma and Pa don’t need to know. I told them I was most likely going to be staying at a friend’s.’

‘Did you plan to get arrested?’ Charlie couldn’t control the higher-octave voice that escaped.

‘No! I was going to sit outside his flat. I know that’s sad but I wanted to know who he was with, what he was doing. If he was sad or sorry or… I don’t know.’

‘And was he any of those things?’ said Charlie, trying to maintain her temper because annoyingly it was starting to ebb away.

‘No. He pulled up in his car and it was like a party spilled out. He was with Jed and Sophie and two other girls and they were laughing and messing about… and I watched them go inside and I flipped out. You know when you say the red mist descends and you can’t control it?’ Charlie knew exactly what that was like. She nodded and sat on the arm of the chair next to Fleur. ‘I flipped out and I stabbed his tyres with my penknife. I got a bit carried away and then there was this man with a torch shouting at me and then Knob came out and went crazy and then the police arrived.’ Fleur’s bottom lip sagged and Charlie leaned in to give her a hug before she started to cry.

‘You are a prize idiot.’ She hugged her for a bit until Fleur released her grip.

‘I’m tired.’

‘Hot chocolate?’ suggested Charlie.

‘No, thank you. Where am I sleeping?’

‘Sofa or one of the children’s beds – half of them are free as far as I can make out,’ said Charlie, thinking about the warm bodies squirrelled under her duvet.

Charlie could hear the phone ringing again and dragged herself to consciousness. It was light outside but still early. She looked around and realised she was asleep on the sofa. When she had gone back to bed it had still been full of children and dog, so she had settled Fleur in Eleanor’s bed and had taken a blanket and opted for the sofa. It had been adequate and at least she hadn’t spent the night disentangling herself from paws, legs and countless pointy elbows.

She dragged herself upright, picked up the phone and mumbled into it.

‘Who is this?’ asked Ruth.

‘It’s Charlie, the nanny,’ said Charlie, waking up as a shot of something lunged uncomfortably around her system.

‘I want an update on the Social Services meeting,’ she stated firmly.

‘I’d be happy to do that for you,’ said Charlie, relaxing into the sofa. She could feel Ruth’s reaction on the other end and it was quite entertaining.

‘I still don’t see why they wanted to see you at all,’ said Ruth, her voice fading out a little.

Charlie really did dislike this woman. ‘I’m going to be the children’s primary carer so it concerns me very much.’ There, that felt better.

‘What gives you that idea? We can, and will, employ who we like to care for the children. As you’ve brought up the subject, I’ll see if I can get along to you this afternoon…’ said Ruth.

Charlie wanted to reach down the phone and pull her out, like they did in cartoons, and give her a good slap. Count to ten, she thought, count to ten. One, two, three… bugger it!

‘You can employ anyone you like, Ruth, and you can change them weekly, especially if you’d like to totally fuck up your sister’s children. If that’s what you want, you go ahead!’ and she switched off the phone. Charlie instantly wished she hadn’t done it. That may have been tantamount to handing in her resignation. It was stupid and rash. She flung herself back against the sofa. What had she done?