A Family Holiday (8 page)

‘Are you going to bed?’ Charlie asked him. He was fresh out of the shower and wearing his dad’s dressing gown, which she noted looked only a little too big for him.

‘In a bit. Who was that?’ he asked, trying and failing badly to look uninterested. Charlie was good at many things and in her time she had been an Oscar-winning liar, but not any more, and certainly not with the children.

‘It was Anthony Penton, your birth father. Social Services asked me to call him so he knew what had happened.’

Ted gave a half-pout and nodded.

‘You okay?’ asked Charlie.

‘Yeah. So he doesn’t want to meet up or anything?’

‘No, I’m afraid not.’

‘No, that’s good, because I don’t want to either. He’s like… not bothered with me before… so he’s no one, right?’

‘He’s still your birth father, Ted, but that doesn’t make him an instant replacement dad, especially if he doesn’t want to be.’ Charlie was trying to be as honest as she could without sounding heartless. This sort of thing was very cut-and-dried for Charlie; parents were the people who looked after you and earned the right to have the title ‘mum’ or ‘dad’, not some donor who never got in touch. What they had supplied you could pick up off the internet at a reasonable price.

‘Charlie, it’s all right. Look I’m fine,’ and Ted gave a cheesy grin. ‘I’m not interested in him. I lost my dad in a car accident and I get that he’s the only one I’m likely to have. But, hey, if you’re going to only have one, then I was lucky to have the best…’ and that was where Ted’s voice broke and he disappeared upstairs two at a time. Charlie hesitated for a second but decided to let him go. She knew he was hurting exactly the same as the younger children, but she had only seen him cry at the funeral and even then he had stifled it. She could go upstairs now, but she and Ted had never had a relationship where a cuddle was acceptable, and now wasn’t the time to start.

Charlie checked on the other children, as she did every night before she went to bed herself. She stood outside Ted’s door and listened to the muffled sniffs of a boy trying very hard to control his tears. She placed her hand on the door handle and stood there fighting with her choices and the implications of opening the door. When at last it went silent inside, her hand fell away from the doorknob and she went to bed.

Fleur’s parents had been out when she had got home, but there was a long note from her mother on the breakfast bar about Clyde throwing a shoe and Ralph causing all sorts of upset when the blacksmith came, plus details of a potential meal that was in the freezer, with instructions for reheating and directions as to where to find the salad to accompany it and a dessert. She had also left contact details, as they were at some National Trust dinner. Fleur suspected that the hosts were after her father’s company to provide some sort of sponsorship; that was what a free meal or trip usually meant. She re-read the note and ran her fingers over the last line – All our love M & P xxxx. Her mother always put four kisses on the bottom of notes and cards to Fleur or her sister Poppy.

Poppy had an altogether different relationship with their parents. Fleur wondered when they had stopped treating Poppy like a child and tried not to get grumpy about it. She helped herself to a glass of water and leant on the cool granite surface. Poppy had always been more independent that she had. She was always an ‘I can do it myself’ sort of child and that had developed further as they had grown up, but the point was that Charlie was right, Fleur had never completely grown up. She hated it when Charlie was right. She didn’t want to admit it and she certainly wasn’t going to let Charlie know, but it was foolish not to accept it herself.

She missed Poppy. They were closer than most sisters she knew of. Over the years they had had their moments, as all siblings did. Sometimes they seemed perfectly suited but at other times it would feel as if Poppy had left her behind and that she was playing catch-up. She loved Poppy immensely, but as they had grown up it had become clear that they were two very different people. Poppy was academic and wanted to make her own way in the world, ideally without any input from her father’s name or money. Whereas Fleur had taken the scenic route, had drifted through school and had completely lost her way after her exams. Her forays into various college courses had amounted to nothing. And here she was again with absolutely nothing to do.

Fleur put her hand in her pocket and pulled out the folded note and the business card and placed them side by side on the granite top. There was the temptation to do ‘eeny, meeny’ over them, but she resisted. If she was going to grow up, now was a good time to start. She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialled the number.

When her parents arrived home they were laughing and it cheered Fleur to hear it. They were her parents and she rarely thought of them as a couple, but the recent events had made her see how perfect they were for each other. She could just make out her father whispering something inaudible, to which her mother was giggling. Fleur decided that she had better make her presence known or she could become privy to something that might scar her for life.

‘Dirty stop-outs! What time do you call this?’

‘Fleur, sweetheart.’ Her mother homed in on the disembodied voice and found Fleur curled up on a sofa hugging a large mug of tea. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘Yes. Thanks for leaving me a meal and the note and everything. But, honestly, you don’t need to. I know you’re being kind, but I’m an adult and you wouldn’t do it for Poppy.’

‘Oh,’ said her mother, a little crestfallen. Fleur’s father joined them in the room and wrapped a protective arm around his wife. He looked a little flushed as he kissed his wife’s neck and Fleur felt an unpleasant shiver go down her spine. Don’t think about it, she told herself.

‘The child is right. I’ll work out what you owe us in rent,’ he said with a wink. Fleur dismissively stuck her tongue out at him.

Her mother gave her a hug and perched on the arm of the sofa. ‘Did you have a nice time last night?’ she asked.

‘Um, I really need to talk to you about that. It’s all right, nothing to worry about but you might want to get a large glass of something alcoholic and sit down first.’

Breakfast was utter mayhem. Despite Charlie having laid out their uniforms and instructing them to check their school bags yesterday, somehow today everyone had lost something. For Millie it was her temper as she was lashing out at anyone who came within swiping distance. Eleanor was organising a production line and filled lunch boxes as quickly as Charlie could make the sandwiches.

‘Millie, we’ve got Music and Rhythm today.’

‘Yay!’ shouted Millie. ‘Zinging!’ she launched into a very off-key version of Humpty Dumpty.

Ted sat at the table, slowly stirring his cereal. He retrieved Millie’s toast when it went flying across the table and dangerously close to the edge. His blazer was definitely shorter in the arms and Charlie realised how much he had grown in the last few months, and not only physically.

Charlie herded the children to the front door and equipped them with bags as they filed out onto the pavement.

‘Eleanor, put the dog down and stop letting him lick your face. He was washing his bum earlier!’ said Charlie.

‘Eugh,’ said Eleanor, before she gave Wriggly one last kiss and deposited him back inside the house.

‘Bum, bum, b-bum,’ sang Millie, which for once sounded quite melodious and could very easily be mistaken for a nursery rhyme rather than her latest word obsession. But for Charlie anything was better than the ‘testicles’ incident.

George was chattering away to Ted and seemed completely unaware that Ted was not responding. Charlie buckled everyone into their seats in the back whilst Ted loaded the school bags into the boot. Charlie and Ted reached their respective doors at the same time and she looked at him across the roof of the car. She wanted to say something to him, after what had happened with his birth father last night, but nothing suitable came to her lips, so she shrugged instead. Ted nodded and they both got in the car.

Charlie was surprised how pleased she was to be going back to her old routine – she hadn’t realised how much she had missed it.

Millie’s playgroup was the best of her toddler activity groups as most people were friendly there; Music and Rhythm was different. Everyone had been friendly to start with but as the mothers realised that Charlie was the nanny and not Millie’s mother they were noticeably less chatty to her. As this was London, there were quite a few nannies in attendance so she had soon found the breakaway gang she was meant to belong to. There were two distinct groups: one for mums and one for carers. Even within the carers group there was a hierarchy as there were a couple of au pairs who were barely allowed to break into the conversation.

‘Hello, Millie, we haven’t seen you for a while. Have you brought Pooh Bear?’ asked Jane, the lady who ran the group. Millie nodded and went to grab a fish-shaped mat and dragged it to her favourite spot.

‘Hi, Jane, sorry we’ve not been for a while,’ said Charlie, realising instantly that none of the people here would be aware of why they had been missing for so many weeks. They had been in their dark bubble while the world carried on as usual.

‘No problem, you’re all paid up,’ said Jane.

The session went well and it made Charlie feel so much better to see Millie bashing the life out of a tambourine and belting out the words to ‘Buns in a Baker’s Shop’.

Charlie’s phone was on silent but she felt it vibrate in her pocket. A quick look told her that it was Fleur. She would have to wait.

Tea and biscuits at the end gave the opportunity for some much-needed natter in each of the two groups, whilst the children wore most of their biscuits and spilled their drinks happily.

‘Have you been away? You’re not very brown. I texted you, did you get it?’ said Ali, who was one of the friendliest of the group and someone who Charlie got on okay with. Ali was a talker and Charlie was more tolerant than others as she wasn’t so desperate to fight for airtime.

‘In that order: No, not been away which is why I’m not very brown. I did get your text and I’m very sorry that I didn’t reply,’ said Charlie, frantically wondering what she should say about Helen and Toby. These people didn’t know them, so should she tell them? Would they treat her differently? More importantly, they were sure to treat Millie differently. Charlie decided to avoid the conversation if she possibly could.

‘I thought you’d been sacked,’ said the blonde girl whose name was either Ada or Ida, but she had an accent and Charlie still wasn’t sure so she simply never used the woman’s name in conversation.

‘Not yet, still working. How is Zander eating now?’ asked Charlie, deciding to turn the conversation onto the child the woman looked after. This was a stroke of genius as that and the eating habits of the other charges then dominated the conversation.

In the car park Charlie was once again strapping Millie back into her car seat before attempting to strap Pooh Bear into the seat next to her, when Ali appeared.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ said Charlie.

‘You look… you look under the weather. I’m not being unkind, I just thought I’d check. I know what it can be like sometimes, if it all gets a bit much and the parents take the pee,’ elaborated Ali, not stopping for breath.

‘No, really. I’m fine. My friend’s had a bad time with her fiancé, that’s all.’

‘Oh, okay,’ said Ali, looking decidedly disappointed.

‘Because you can always call me, you know. The last parents I worked for were awful.’

‘No, it’s not the parents. Really, I’m fine.’

Millie had been quiet as she studied the exchange between the adults closely.

‘Mummy and Daddy have gone d’evon,’ said Millie, speaking very deliberately and looking very serious. Charlie felt as if her heart was breaking. She and Ali both looked at the pretty face that was looking so stern. Charlie reached out a hand and stroked Millie’s plump cheek.

‘I know, sweetheart, I know.’

‘You see what I mean, they sod off to Devon and leave you with four kids. Taking the pee. Call me!’ Ali hollered, as she headed off towards her car.

Fleur had changed twice because she wasn’t sure what was most appropriate to wear when meeting a solicitor. She had a meeting arranged at the offices of Sedgley, Steeple and Thomas and was really quite nervous about it. She was going alone and it did feel like a huge milestone for her. She straightened her shift dress and walked into the plush waiting area with as much confidence as she could muster. The receptionist was about her age but very polite and efficient and she found herself upstairs in another waiting area reading
Country Life
within a moment. Fleur wasn’t reading the magazine, though she was turning the pages in a timely manner. She was thinking through what she was going to say. She wanted to sound business-like but not cold. She wished Charlie would pick up her phone, she was sick of calling. Charlie didn’t even use the answer service, so it rang out interminably.

Fleur was being distracted by an article claiming the debutante season was back when a young awkward-looking man, with neat hair not dissimilar to a Lego mini-figure, walked out of a nearby office and hovered in front of her.

‘Mrs Van Benton?’ he asked tentatively.

‘No, that’s my mother. I’m Miss Van Benton… well, at least I was. Can we go in your office?’ said Fleur, keen to stop rambling within earshot of others.

‘Yes, of course,’ and he pointed the way, staring after her as she picked up her Gucci clutch bag and cat-walked past him.

A very large old-style desk dominated the office and the solicitor had to squeeze between it and a bookcase to get past. Fleur was watching him with a tiny smirk.

‘Gift from my grandfather,’ he said, reading her mind. ‘I’m Jonathan Steeple. Can I get you anything to drink?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Then let’s get down to business,’ he said, leaning forward and smiling warmly. ‘You mentioned a divorce on the telephone. Could you elaborate?’ he asked, having a quick look around for that box of large tissues and wondering, at the same time, who could be so deranged that they would do anything to lose this beautiful woman.

After a shaky start, Fleur found her flow and, encouraged by Jonathan, she was able to explain the situation and the desired outcome she was looking for without getting emotional and without sounding heartless.

Jonathan could have happily listened to her for hours, her voice was soft and caressing with a hint of public school. She kept good eye contact, or was that simply him staring at her? He couldn’t be sure. The problem he had was that, as he had suspected from the phone call, this young woman most probably didn’t need his services at all. Jonathan carefully played back the situation to her.

‘So you and Mr Crane,’ he said, glancing down at his very brief notes, ‘are in agreement that the marriage has no future and that you wish for it to be dissolved?’

‘Yes,’ said Fleur, with confidence, and then added, ‘That’s what I want. He says he still loves me and wants to make it work, but he also said he would do whatever I want. And I want a divorce.’

‘I’m very sorry for the personal nature of the next question, but can you confirm that you haven’t had sexual relations with Mr Crane since the wedding service.’ Jonathan felt his face flush and he ran his finger around his tightening collar. Fleur looked equally embarrassed.

‘No. Not since the wedding but we did… before.’

‘Good… I mean good that you haven’t… well, you know
…
it makes things simpler.’

‘Good,’ agreed Fleur, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

‘The good news is that this is very straightforward. You don’t actually need a solicitor. The marriage is voidable as it hasn’t been consummated. Therefore, you can apply for annulment by completing a nullity petition and that can be done over the internet. There is a fee. Would you like me to write down the details?’

‘Please,’ said Fleur. ‘It seems all a bit too easy to get divorced or annulled, or whatever it is. Are you sure you don’t need to check with someone?’

Jonathan laughed a squeaky little-girl laugh and Fleur giggled along. ‘No, I do know what I’m doing, honestly. There you go.’ He handed her a piece of cream embossed paper with a website link and a few key words. ‘Go to that link and follow the instructions. Pay the fee and the documents will come through the post to be signed. You and Mr Crane return them to the court, there’s a cooling-off period and the marriage will be over. Was there anything else I could help you with, Miss Van Benton?’ and Jonathan sent a silent prayer that maybe there was a death in the family he could deal with.

‘Um,’ Fleur pondered and bit her lip as she folded the paper in half, ‘no, I guess not. Thank you, Jonathan, you’ve been most helpful.’ They shook hands and both felt the flush of blood to their cheeks and the sensation of sweat on their palms. Jonathan watched her leave and tried very hard not to stare at her arse. He was loosening his tie when her doll-like face and cascades of auburn hair bobbed back into view.

‘Actually, Jonathan, would you be a sweetie and do it for me?’ she said, handing him back the piece of paper. He went to take it, but Fleur snatched the paper back, causing him to almost launch himself onto his desk. ‘Sorry, I know I should really do this myself, but it feels like a bit too big a step. Do you understand?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ said Jonathan, nodding vigorously, ‘…actually, sorry, no I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve got twenty minutes before my next meeting. Do you want to get a coffee?’ He had never been so brave in all his life and, whatever happened next, he would always be mightily proud of himself for seizing this moment and not dithering, as he frequently did.

‘Yes, that would be lovely. Let’s do that,’ said Fleur, perking up and putting the piece of paper back into her bag.

School pick-up was the usual noisy and chaotic affair but it was full of life, and Charlie found it oddly reassuring as the children were all cossetted back into the womb of her car and she could return them to the safety of the house. As she started the engine the radio kicked into life and out blared ‘We Are Family’ by Sister Sledge. Charlie had a moment’s hesitation. This was a special song for them. It was the one they all sang along to – well if you could call the out-of-tune warbling from Millie and the shouting from George and Ted ‘singing’.

Charlie needn’t have worried because, as if on autopilot, all the children did exactly what they always did when they heard that song – they all joined in with gusto. Ted and George, particularly, liked to emphasise the line ‘I’ve got all my sisters with me’ whilst pointing at each other. And even now, after what had happened in their lives, this song still meant what it always had – a fun sing-along. Charlie laughed and joined in. The song finished and the volume in the car reduced a fraction as the singing was replaced with voices.

George was slightly hyper and he and Eleanor were clamouring to be the first to re-tell what had happened at school. Charlie knew none of it would have anything to do with what they had actually learnt in class and a question of that nature was a sure-fire way to shut them up. But that wasn’t what she wanted today. She wanted them to be excitable, she wanted them to come back to the world of the living and start being children again instead of the little mourners they had become.

‘Okay, okay, you guys. Let Ted go first. Ted, how was your day?’ she flicked the car’s indicator and pulled it out into the traffic. There was no response, so she gave a quick look to her left to see Ted repeat his shrugged reply. ‘Right, so is that a bad day or an okay day?’

‘Okay, I s’pose,’ said Ted, without moving his eyes from his mobile phone, which his thumbs were traversing at high speed.

‘We went to Music and Rhythm, didn’t we, Millie?’ said Charlie, checking her rear-view mirror for a response.

‘Did zinging. Bum, bum, b-bum,’ she sang happily.

‘Can I go next? Pleeeeeeee‌eeeeeeeeee‌eeeeeeeeeeeeeease!’ pleaded George. And a diatribe ensued, covering everything he had missed including who had fallen out with whom, who had been dropped from the cricket team and who was on regular detention. Eleanor sat quietly the whole time, until it was her turn, and then brandished a printed sheet of A4 in the air.