The Holiday Home (16 page)

*

An hour later and a composed Belinda had showered and was pouring herself a deserved glass of perfectly chilled white wine in the kitchen of Dairy Cottage.

There was a knock at the door.

‘Hi, kids. Come in.’

‘Hi, Mum,’ said Emily. ‘Can Abi and Jem come in too?’

‘Absolutely. More the merrier.’ Belinda kissed them all and directed them to the parlour. ‘What’ll you have to drink, Jem? Abi? Glass of wine?’

‘Yes, please,’ said a hopeful Emily.

‘Not you,’ replied her mother.

Grabbing a couple of extra wine glasses, the chilled bottle, a family bag of Twiglets, and a tin of Coke for Emily, she settled down with the kids.

‘What you been up to today?’

Emily, her mouth full of Twiglets, told her mother all the places that Jem and Abi had taken her to during their walk to the village. ‘I got a tattoo, look.’ She rolled up the sleeve of her T-shirt and at the top of her arm was a small mermaid coloured in pink and green with a dusting of glitter over it.

Belinda played the game. ‘Is it a real one?’

‘Don’t be daft – you have to be eighteen.’

‘How long does that one last then?’

‘A week.’

‘It’s very cool.’

‘Yeah. And afterwards we got ice creams and went and sat on the beach, then we had a swim and went rock-pooling.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, and Jem, like, catches fish with his bare hands!’

‘Does he now? Clever boy.’ She gave him an appreciative look and noticed his glass was empty, ‘Pass me your glass for a little top-up.’

He held his glass out readily. Abi frowned at him and put a hand over hers.

Belinda set the bottle back down on the floor. ‘So, who taught you how to fish? Your dad?’

‘No, it’s not really his thing. It was Poppa, my grandfather. He loves all that stuff. Have you seen his speedboat yet?’

‘No,’ said Belinda, raising her eyebrows. ‘Sounds fun.’

‘Oh, it’s wicked. Abi and I are qualified to drive it – soon as we were old enough, we did the course and passed the test and everything. But we only go out when the weather’s good.’

‘Of course. Where does he keep it? Trevay?’

‘Oh no, it’s under the house.’ Jem told Belinda and Emily all about the hidden cave.

‘Coool,’ said Emily. ‘Can I have a ride in it?’

‘Yeah,’ said Jem, ‘but I’ll have to check with Poppa and Mum first.’

‘OK, but best not bother them today,’ said Belinda, swirling the wine round her glass. ‘Leave it till tomorrow.’

‘Why?’ said Abi. ‘Has something happened?’

Abi and Jem sat astonished as Belinda gave them a sanitised account of what had happened earlier.

‘… I’m sure they will have sorted things out by now,’ she finished. ‘I wouldn’t let it worry you.’

The children didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

‘But why were they arguing?’ asked Jem.

Belinda shook her head, ‘Family business, from the sound of it. Let’s not talk about it any more.’

Abi felt she had to apologise. ‘I am so sorry. How embarrassing. God. It’s freaking me out just thinking about it.’

‘Don’t be silly – I’m a grown woman who has seen it all. Families can be so complicated. But your mums love each other. Trust me, they’ll work it out.’

Jem and Abi looked at each other. They weren’t so sure.

*

The next morning, Henry and Dorothy were sitting in their warm conservatory sharing a crossword. Henry was in his comfortable armchair and Dorothy was calling out the clues.

‘Fifteen down, “Impossible to ignore or avoid.”’

‘How many letters?’

‘It’s three words. Two, four, four. We’ve got the first letter of the second word, Y.’

‘Y for Yankee?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hmm. Try another clue.’

‘OK. “Sheets and pillowcases.” Starts with a B.’

‘P?’

‘No. B for Breast.’

‘Ah … Bedlinen?’

‘Yes. Good.’

‘Another one.’

‘“Silly fool.”’

‘I am not.’

‘No, that’s the clue: “Silly fool.” Four letters starting and ending in T.’

‘Doesn’t start with a C, does it?’

‘Behave yourself!’

‘Twit?’

‘That’ll do.’

A knock on the conservatory glass disturbed them. It was Abi and Jem.

‘Hello, kids! Lovely to see you.’ Dorothy stood up to welcome them in, smoothing down her halter-neck sundress.

Abi went to kiss her. ‘Hey, Granny. You look pretty groovy.’

‘Thank you, darling. I try to stay with it. I was about to get our mid-morning coffee and biscuits. Care to join us?’

‘Yes, please,’ the kids chorused as they sat on the huge wicker sofa.

Dorothy looked pointedly at Abi’s bare thighs, revealed by her micro shorts. ‘No biscuits for you, Abi.’

‘Don’t be so ridiculous, woman!’ Henry frowned. ‘She’s skin and bone.’

Dorothy tutted and continued on her way to the kitchen.

Henry looked at his two grandchildren with perceptive eyes. ‘So, what do you want? It’s not just to say hello, is it?’

Jem laughed. ‘No flies on you, Poppa.’

‘Never have been. Never will be, my boy. So what is it?’

‘Have you taken the boat out for a run yet this year?’

‘A couple of months ago. Got it serviced. Hasn’t been out since. Why?’

‘Can we take it out one day? Belinda and Emily want to have a ride.’

‘And where will you go?’

‘Just along to Trevay and then up the river for a picnic. I won’t go mad.’

Henry looked at Jem for a couple of moments, considering the request. ‘OK – as long as I can come too. You can be skipper though.’

‘Fantastic!’ Jem’s face split into a huge grin.

Henry continued: ‘How about we take your parents, too? There’s room for everyone.’

‘Ah,’ said Abi. ‘That was the other thing we wanted to talk to you about.’

Jem and Abi told Henry about the argument. ‘We don’t know what it was about, but the atmosphere today is awful.’

‘Hmm. And how are Greg and Francis?’

‘Dad’s got a red mark on his cheek to match the bruise he got when he knocked himself out the other day. Apparently Mum accidentally hit him when he tried to stop them arguing,’ said Jem.

Henry sat for a moment, deep in thought. ‘And you have no idea what this is all about?’

Both kids shook their heads.

‘I’ll have a word and see if I can’t get to the bottom of it.’ Henry sat forward in his chair. ‘Now bring that table a little closer – Granny’s here with the coffee.’

Dorothy poured the coffee from the cafetière and handed round the mugs. ‘Do you know what you want for your birthday?’ she asked Abi.

‘Yes. There’s something, I really, really want … but I don’t think I’ll be allowed to have it.’

Dorothy passed the plate of shortbread to Jem, bypassing Abi.

‘Oh yes? What’s that?’

‘A party on the beach. All my friends. Boys and girls. Barbecue. Some wine. Music. But Mum and Dad want to do the usual thing in the garden.’

Henry and Dorothy both chuckled. ‘I’m sure they do,’ said Henry. ‘Would you like me to work on them? No promises, mind.’

‘Would you?’ pleaded Abi. ‘I would love you for ever!’

Henry laughed again. ‘I’ll do my best.’ He picked up the plate of biscuits. ‘Here, Abi, have one of these.’

‘Thanks, Poppa.’

Jem and Abi left looking much happier than when they’d arrived.

Dorothy waved them off from the front door then rejoined her husband. ‘The trouble with you, Henry Carew, is that you are a soft touch.’

‘I can’t have my grandchildren made miserable. It’s her seventeenth birthday, for God’s sake.’ He winked at his wife. ‘Now then, give me that last clue.’

‘Fly into Portugal. Four letters. First letter F for—’

‘Faro.’

‘Well, it fits.’

14

B
ack at Atlantic House, sitting round the breakfast table were four, unwashed, sullen adults. They were waiting for Merlin and the return of hot water, to arrive. He was not answering his phone. Connie made an effort to be cheerful.

‘Well, at least we’ve got electricity!’

Greg was ostentatiously working at his computer, tapping noisily on the keys. He replied absently, ‘Hmmm?’

‘I said at least we’ve got electricity,’ repeated Connie with what she hoped was a relaxed smile.

Francis, who was writing out one of his endless shopping lists, picked up her tone and agreed. ‘Yes. We’re lucky, really.’

Pru, who was sitting as far away from Connie as possible, gave her sister and husband a scathing look before returning to her paper.

The silence lingered on until Francis cleared his throat. The rest looked up expectantly.

‘I have noticed that we need some more loo rolls. Any preference in colour?’ he asked.

Pru rattled her broadsheet pages and spoke very clearly. ‘No.’

Francis bent back to his list. ‘OK, I’ll get the white then.’

The silence returned. Only the scraping of Francis’s chair as he stood up to stock-take in the larder disturbed them.

This was how Henry found them when he knocked on the patio doors.

Pru leapt up before Connie and hurried to welcome him in. ‘Hi, Dad.’ She kissed him.

‘Good morning,’ he said sternly, surveying the four of them with a look that the girls remembered from childhood. All four felt a chill in their stomachs. They were in for a telling off.

‘Morning, Daddy,’ Connie said in a small voice.

‘I hear you two have been arguing –’ he studied Francis’s sore face – ‘and Francis has come off worst, by the look of things. Mind telling me what it was about?’

The sisters looked anywhere but at each other or their father.

Henry bellowed at them, ‘I am going to remain here until this is sorted out. What’s been going on?’

Connie leapt in: ‘Pru said that you and Mummy would be leaving Atlantic House to her instead of sharing it out between us. And then Greg got that idiot Merlin Pengelly to look at the boiler and we had a flood and now we’re waiting for Merlin to come back with the spare parts because we still don’t have any hot water.’

Henry pursed his lips. ‘Let’s deal with the plumbing first. Merlin Pengelly – is he that bugger who made a mess of our summer twenty-odd years ago?’

‘Yes,’ said Connie. ‘And now Greg’s got him to mess up the plumbing as well.’

Greg spoke: ‘Come on, I was only doing my bit. You asked me to find a plumber and I did.’

‘How did you manage to come up with that waste of space? He’s not even a plumber!’ boomed Henry.

Greg reached across to a pile of discarded newspapers and pulled out a copy of the parish magazine. ‘Here, it says: “Merlin’s Magic Plumbing Services. No job too big or small.”’

‘Oh,’ said Pru nastily, ‘it wasn’t too onerous a task for you to track him down then? All you had to do was read through the recycling. Well done.’

Greg clenched his hands. ‘I can do without your sarcasm, Pru. And if it wasn’t for you plotting to con Connie out of her inheritance, we wouldn’t be in the situation we find ourselves in. Would we?’

‘Exactly.’ Connie threw a spiteful look at her sister and then laid her hand on Greg’s. ‘Well said, darling.’

‘I see,’ said Henry. ‘Tell me, Pru, what is this about you inheriting Atlantic House?’ He looked her straight in the eyes.

She dropped her gaze under his scrutiny and whispered, ‘That’s not quite what I said.’

Connie shot back, ‘It’s exactly what you said.’

Henry raised his hands to silence them both.

‘Did you say that, Pru?’

Pru squirmed. ‘In a way, but—’

‘But what? Since when do you decide how I divvy up my home and worldly goods?’

Pru, shame-faced, didn’t answer.

Connie chipped in: ‘Exactly, Daddy. She wants all the good stuff and she’s trying to cut me out.’

Now Henry’s stony gaze turned on Connie.

‘“All the good stuff”? What do you think the firm is? I made your husband managing director. Carew Family Board Games has made me what I am today, what Greg is today and what you are today. Without the factory and the business, there would be no Atlantic House.’

Connie opened her mouth as if to say something, but Greg caught her eye and shook his head, so she closed it again.

Henry placed his hands palms down on the table. ‘So, my two venal, selfish daughters, you want to know how much you’ll be worth when I’m dead and gone?’ He waved away their vehement protests. ‘Yes, you do. And the answer is that I don’t know. Your mother and I intend to go on living for a while yet. And we may as well indulge ourselves a little, since neither of you have done anything to deserve Atlantic House or the company.’

Greg, looking aggrieved, protested, ‘Hold on, Henry, I’m keeping the money coming into the firm.’

‘True. But I would expect nothing less, you are a salaried managing director with a generous annual bonus, a pension scheme and a family home bought and paid for by the firm. You are not – I’m sorry to be blunt here – my son. You are my daughter’s husband. Two different things.’

Greg looked with fury at his father-in-law and chairman, but wisely kept his temper under control and fought the urge to respond.

Henry continued: ‘In all the years you’ve been coming here, have you ever helped your mother prepare the house for these long,
free
family holidays? Have you ever offered to pay for the fuel or water bills that you run up so profligately? Or chipped in to help with running repairs?’

He looked around at the guilty faces before him. ‘No. So, if Dorothy and I decide to sell up, go to Las Vegas and put all the money on red, we shall.’

A silence so dense you could see it, fell upon them.

‘I’m sorry, Daddy,’ said Connie, clearly shaken.

‘What can we do?’ asked Pru.

‘You can all start pulling your weight around here and not expecting it to land in your lap. I worked hard for everything you enjoy in life. And my father worked hard before me. I’ve been too soft on you all. I suggest you begin by sorting out the plumbing – which, by the way, you will pay for as a sign of goodwill. Do I make myself clear?’ Henry saw their nodding heads and then turned to leave. When he reached the French doors, he paused and said sadly, ‘You have really disappointed me.’