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Authors: Fern Britton

The Holiday Home (28 page)

BOOK: The Holiday Home
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Abi beamed with pleasure at the thrill of driving her own boat into the cave. She only wished she had a few spectators, but part of the boathouse’s purpose was to prevent arrivals and departures being observed. They slowly motored into the cave and up towards the man-made jetty.

Henry donned a battered blue cotton cap. ‘Well done, Abi. We’ll make a seaman of you yet.’

Greg, barefooted in his shorts, scrambled out into the thigh-deep water and up the semi-submerged slipway. He caught the rope one-handed and held it until Abi arrived to secure it to the metal ring embedded in the concrete floor. ‘Well done, Skip!’ He mock saluted her.

It took them a while to wipe the boat down and make her safe next to the
Dorothy
. Abi was beaming with excitement. ‘She’s the best present I’ve
ever
had, Dad. Thank you so much.’ She grabbed him in a bear hug. ‘And the party tonight is going to make this the best day of my whole life!’

Henry smiled indulgently at his beautiful granddaughter. ‘Tell you what, if we’re clever and sneaky, we might get out of here and over to The Bungalow before the rest of the family catch us. That way we can have a celebratory hot chocolate together.’

‘Personally,’ said Greg, ‘I could use a Scotch.’ He put his arm round Abi. ‘Next year I can take you for a proper drink in the pub, but for now, hot chocolate will have to do.’

She laughed and kissed his tanned stubbly cheek. ‘Thanks, Daddy. This really is the best birthday ever!’

The three of them climbed the stairs and made a dash for The Bungalow without being seen.

*

When they finally rolled up to Atlantic House after their celebratory hot chocolate, with a dash of Scotch for the men, they found a hive of activity and a very miffed Connie. She was in the hall, surrounded by balloons.

‘There you bloody are! Where the hell have you been? Have you eaten? If you’re hungry you’ll have to ask Janie to make you a cheese sandwich. She’s just clearing ours up, so you’d better get in quick.’

‘Who’s Janie?’ asked Abi, as Greg and Henry gasped ‘Janie!’ in unison.

‘Hii!’ Janie was standing in the door of the kitchen, brandishing a sharp knife. ‘I make a mean cheese and pickle if you want some?’

Greg felt his legs turning to liquid beneath him. His eyes swivelled from Janie to Connie and back again.

Henry, doing his utmost to conceal his fury, stepped forward. ‘Welcome, Janie,’ he said, in a not altogether welcoming voice. ‘This is a surprise.’

‘A good one, I hope?’ she giggled mischievously. ‘I’ve got some paperwork that Greg wanted me to bring down.’

‘You have?’ Greg was finding it hard to breathe and talk at the same time.

‘Yes. We discussed it yesterday. Remember?’

Greg shook his head then nodded it in confusion.

‘OK, who wants a sandwich?’ said Janie, turning back to the kitchen.

‘How did the boat go?’ Connie asked Abi. ‘I was watching you zipping across the bay.’

Greg and Henry remained in the hall, watching as the women disappeared into the kitchen. Greg was feeling as if he’d been the victim of a hit-and-run accident. Henry was staring at him, his colour rising ominously.

‘I want a word with you,’ he hissed. ‘In the study.’

Greg blinked and looked at his father-in-law’s deadly serious face. He did as he was told.

‘Here, drink this.’ Henry passed a glass of Scotch over, before waving Greg to a seat and sinking down in a chair himself.

‘Thank you,’ said Greg meekly.

‘What the devil do you think you’re doing, inviting her here?’ Henry’s voice was controlled, but the fury in his tone was unmistakable. ‘And, before you say a word, bear in mind that I already know the answer.’

Greg sipped the Scotch to buy some time. Henry was no fool in business or in private. How much did he know? How did he know? Greg took another, larger mouthful of his drink.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh yes you do.’

Greg looked at his hand, clasping the glass. ‘I didn’t ask her down. There is no urgent paperwork.’

‘Then why is she here?’

‘I don’t know!’ He looked up with horrified eyes.

‘You’re having an affair with her, aren’t you?’ Recognising a rhetorical question, Greg didn’t bother with an answer.

‘Aren’t you?’ thundered Henry.

Greg simply nodded his miserable head.

‘She’s not your first mistress, I take it?’

Greg looked away, his averted eyes speaking volumes.

‘You bastard!’ Henry’s voice was icy with contempt. ‘You’re an utter fool. How could you jeopardise the happiness of your wife, your daughter – not to mention risking your position in the company! What were you thinking?’

‘I’m sorry.’ Greg rubbed his eyes with the fingers of his good hand and started to weep. ‘I’m so … so … sorry.’

‘Sorry you did it, or sorry you were found out?’

‘I was going to end it after the holidays.’

‘Were you? And how would you be able to resist Janie in the office? Have her sacked? Bring in a younger, blonder model?’

‘Nooo,’ Greg wailed.

Henry stood up and went to the door.

Greg was scared. ‘What are you going to do?’

Henry looked at him contemptuously. ‘I’m going to make sure my granddaughter and my daughter are going to have the best party this house has ever seen. As for you, keep out of my way, keep your hands off Janie, and try to behave like a decent husband and father.’

Greg relaxed a little. ‘You’re not going to tell them?’

Henry could not conceal his disgust. ‘Thinking of your own skin as usual? You really are a complete shit. I will deal with you when I’ve had a chance to think about things. In the meantime, remember: I will be watching your every move.’

*

Greg avoided Janie for the rest of the afternoon and took to his bedroom in need of sanctuary. He couldn’t think straight. His mind kept going round and round in circles, like a dog chasing its tail, until he felt sick and giddy. Why was Janie here? How did Henry know? Would Henry tell Connie? What would Abi think? Where would he go? What would he do? And back to the beginning again.

He lay on the bed, curled up like a baby and wept. Some time later there was a tentative knock at the door. He lay rigid. Another pint of adrenalin squirted into his system, tensing his muscles in readiness to flee. He heard a man’s voice.

‘Greg? Are you awake? It’s Francis. Can I come in?’

Greg got to his feet and opened the door a crack to check that Francis was on his own. He was.

Francis took in the broken, red-eyed mess that was now sitting on the edge of the bed, sobbing.

‘Now, now, old man,’ said Francis, embarrassed. ‘Why did you ask her to come here?’

‘I didn’t,’ Greg howled. ‘She’s here uninvited. Make her go. Tell her I’m not well. Tell Connie I need her. Tell her I can’t come to the party. Tell her I’ve got a virus or something.’

Francis stood firm. ‘No one suspects a thing. Janie has gone down to the beach with Belinda to set up washing lines and fairy lights or something. Connie is supervising them.’

Greg groaned and flopped back into the foetal position.

‘You can get through tonight. Then tomorrow you’ll have to have a serious talk with Janie and finish it. That’ll be the end, and no one need be any the wiser.’

‘But you don’t understand,’ moaned Greg. ‘Henry knows about Janie. He’s going to tell Connie and that’ll be goodbye Greg. No family, no job, nothing.’

Francis pursed his lips and studied his hands. ‘Well, you should have thought about that before.’

‘I’ll never do it again. Ever. Connie must believe that. I can’t lose her.’ He wept louder.

‘She knows nothing – yet. But she will if you carry on like this. Look at you: crying like a baby! Grow up, Greg, and face the music. Show them you’re a man who has erred but who loves his family.’

Greg sat up, irked. ‘Like you, you mean? You pious little butter-wouldn’t-melt git! Bringing the buxom Belinda down here for you to ogle? You’ve got some nerve, telling me how to behave.’

Francis took a step nearer to Greg and without warning punched him hard on the nose. ‘Don’t you
ever
speak to me that way again. Now, get yourself up and in the shower. Have a shave and behave like a husband and father should!’

With that, Francis turned and slammed the door behind him.

Greg staggered to the bathroom and looked at his swollen nose. No blood, but the blow had made his eyes sting even more than the tears.

He took in his reflection. Broken arm in its dingy plaster, grey scattered through the once luxurious hair on his chest, and the hint of a pot belly hanging over his shorts.

He turned on the cold tap of the basin and splashed his face. He spoke to himself: ‘Gregory, mate, you’ve been in some tight corners before and come out fine. This is just another. Get through tonight and by tomorrow you will have come up with a plan. You are not going to lose everything you have. You’re a winner, Greggy boy. A winner.’

*

The assembled throng stood at the bottom of the stairs watching as Abi made her descent, dressed as a shimmering pink mermaid. Belinda had sewn scallop shells to the cups of a pink halter-neck bikini and had scattered sequins and seed pearls all over them. Abi’s midriff was bare and from her hips to her toes she was clad in a tight pink shiny lycra side-split skirt, again smothered in sequins. At the back, a frothy train of sparkling pink net billowed over each step. Her long hair had been tonged into rippling waves. A circlet of tiny shells formed her crown.

‘Ta-dah!’ she laughed, holding out her arms and posing.

Connie was holding her camera. ‘Smile!’ The flash lit Abi’s face like a film star.

‘Mum, Dad, I want a picture with you both. Belinda, would you take it?’

‘I’ll take it.’ Janie had stepped in and taken the camera from Connie.

‘Thanks, Janie.’ Connie smiled and took Greg’s hand as they posed with Abi.

‘Hey, Dad. You smell nice!’ Abi sniffed appreciatively. ‘You look pretty hot too!’

‘Doesn’t he?’ said Connie, smiling at him and touching his cheek tenderly. She leaned in to kiss him. ‘Love you.’

Greg’s eyes flicked towards Janie, who looked as if she had neither seen nor heard anything. He glanced at Henry, who was busy whispering to Dorothy, and then he spotted Francis, who was giving him a discreet thumbs-up.

There was a loud pop from the drawing room as a champagne bottle was opened, followed by the sound of Jem laughing and apologising. ‘Oops! Went off a bit early. Sorry.’

Henry walked to the drawing room. ‘I told you I was going to give you the signal!’

‘I know. Soz and all that! I’m not trained in this.’ He held the foaming bottle.

‘Get it in some glasses, Jem. It won’t do us any good on the carpet.’

‘Yes, Poppa.’

Henry took centre stage and held out a hand for Dorothy to join him as all the family, along with Janie, Belinda and Emily, stood round in a semi-circle.

‘Friends and family,’ said Henry, ‘we are here tonight to celebrate Abi’s birthday. Before her guests start to arrive on the beach, I thought we’d take a moment together to raise our glasses and toast our Abigail.’

‘Abigail!’ they all said as one, and drank.

Henry waved his arms to quiet the chatter. ‘I have another important announcement to make.’ He put his arm round Dorothy’s waist. ‘Dorothy and I have been together for more than forty happy years. She is my best friend and the love of my life. What I have to tell you now may come as a shock, but you are all old enough to accept and understand.’ He took a deep breath and looked over at Connie and Pru. ‘Your mummy and I fell in love with each other so quickly that we didn’t have time to make things legal. We set up home and had you girls, but we never actually got married.’

The room was silent. Connie and Pru looked stunned. ‘So the other day, I took Dorothy ring-shopping. I have in my pocket the diamond she has always deserved.’ He turned to Dorothy, taking a small box from his jacket pocket. ‘Darling, I know this might seem a bit sudden …’ He smiled at his own joke. ‘… But would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

Dorothy held out her hand and he slipped the large and perfect solitaire diamond ring she had chosen on to the third finger of her left hand. She kissed him tenderly on the lips and said, ‘I’ll need some time to think about it … Oh, OK. You’re a silly old fool, but who else would have you?’

Connie and Pru went to their parents and hugged them tearfully, full of questions, while Francis called out, ‘Three cheers for Henry and Dorothy – hip-hip …’

Belinda, unnoticed, slid out into the hall and sat on the bottom step of the stairs, her heart breaking.

27

A
fter the big announcement, Abi, Jem and Emily walked across the garden and down to the beach to greet the first arrivals.

Francis took Greg into the kitchen on the pretext of needing him to help with the food.

‘Here, have one of these.’ Francis handed his brother-in-law a large glass of punch. Greg downed it in three gulps and held the empty tumbler out for another. As Francis ladled the punch into the glass he looked at Greg closely. His skin was pale and his hands were shaking slightly. His breathing was more like panting. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Of course I’m not bloody OK. I feel as if I’m about to have a heart attack. My life has turned into a living nightmare.’

‘You’re doing fine. Just keep smiling and stay by Connie’s side. Don’t give Janie a chance to get you on your own.’

He looked gratefully at Francis. ‘Thank you for punching me on the nose. You brought me to my senses.’

‘Any time. It doesn’t look bruised.’

‘It was a bit red, but I told Connie I had a cold coming on and she covered it with some makeup. How’s your hand?’

‘Sore. I’ve never hit anyone before.’

They looked at each other and chuckled. ‘This is the closest we’ve ever been, Francis,’ said Greg. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

They fell into an awkward embrace, Greg’s plastered arm grazing the painful knuckles of Francis’s hand.

*

Pru and Connie were in the drawing room with their parents. Henry and Dorothy were on one of the sofas and the girls were sitting on the floor by their feet.

BOOK: The Holiday Home
8.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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