Evergreen: The Callaghan Green Series

by Annie Dyer

  Jackson saw what I was doing. “Pass it here.”

  “What? Jock strap and all?”

  “Yep, quick. While Seph’s showering.” He stood up. “Eli, Owen, Shay – bring you kit here and stuff it in Seph’s bag.”

  I shook my head and watched as Jackson supervised the sweaty, pretty grim, rugby shorts and tops, plus socks, jockstraps and underwear being stuffed into Seph’s kit bag. He’s already put his own stuff in there and hung up what he was changing into – grey sweats and a hoodie, and I knew he wouldn’t think to reopen his bag. He wasn’t enough of a preener to not use the shower gel that was already in the stalls.

  “That saves Marie a job,” Jackson picked up his towel and headed for the shower. “Think we can call it revenge for one of the many things he’s put us through.”

  Eli laughed. He’d had the quickest shower and was checking his phone.

  “What’s Ava up to?”

  “They’ve gone for a walk into the village.” He put his phone down and rested his head against the white tiles. “Fuck.”

  “What’s up?” I knew he’d been working all the hours he could on a case that he and Payton had taken on between them. It had been complex and busy, two other sides involved and Eli had taken a lead, making Payton go home when he’d stayed to finish off what absolutely had to be done for court.

  He shook his head. “I’ve barely seen her since Bonfire night. I can’t tell you the last time we went out for a meal together on our own. I’m cocking this up.”

  “You spoken to her?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. I’m worried she’s going to think I don’t want to be with her or we’ve grown apart.” He put his head down and held it in his hands. “She can do better than me. I just didn’t want her to realise that until we’d married.”

  I was not the best person to impart any sort of relationship advice. That was what my sisters were for, or at a push, Seph.

  “As her big brother, I should agree that she can do better, but I don’t think she can. She wouldn’t have moved in with you if she wasn’t in this for the long run. Just talk to her.” That was about the level of my guidance.

  He nodded. “I need to find some time with her. I know she’s pissed I didn’t take her to my sister’s, but Izzy asked for it to just be me.”

  “Did you tell Ava that?”

  “I don’t think she believed me.”

  I stood up, relaxed the towel that was hanging round my waist. “Talk to her. If you don’t, you’re fucked.”

  Just after we’d all moved out, Marie and our father started to renovate our childhood home. Vic had once asked me why we didn’t move when Marie and Dad married, given that it was where my mother had taken her own life and for a few years, it hadn’t been a happy place.

  But when Marie moved over from the States after a whirlwind romance with my father, the house changed. The sofas, sideboards and crockery that had been a wedding gift to my parents found their way to charity shops and Marie started to make the house ours. We had a playroom, which became a games room, a huge climbing frame was built outside, she bought a sandpit for Callum and took us down to the river at the end of the garden and encouraged us to get messy, climb trees.

  The house wasn’t filled with a grumbling nanny anymore and we were allowed to be indoors and make noise. At first, I didn’t like Marie; not because she was trying to be our mother – she wasn’t and never pretended to be – but because I’d been used to trying to be a parent. I’d looked after our mum when she wasn’t well, tried to get her to eat and get out of bed; I’d learned how to change Callum’s nappies and feed him and I knew how to contact the doctor if anyone wasn’t well.

  My primary school hadn’t known, but there were times when it was me who got my brother and sister up and made sure they got dressed and had breakfast before we walked the half mile there. My dad spent a lot of time in London and my mum spent a lot of time in bed.

  So when Marie arrived, I wasn’t sure what my role was. Until she burned dinner every other night and forgot to tell us to do our homework. She hated my teacher just because she didn’t like me, and after Marie lost her temper with her when she picked us up from school one night, I realised we were in it together.

  She didn’t have a clue how to parent four kids who were pretty much orphans, but by damn was she going to learn.

  When Ava left to go to university in New York, applying to go there without telling any of us, Marie decided that her empty nest was going to look completely different. Outbuildings were converted; the garden, no longer needed for rugby practice, was landscaped and our childhood bedrooms were given a make-over during the next few years. Some of the rooms downstairs were divided into guest bedrooms, all with bi-folding doors that led outside. Three had hot tubs.

  It was excessive and not needed; my father pretty much had a conniption when he saw them being installed, but Marie knew that having them in would draw Payton and Ava home for weekends.

  That was where seven of us were now installed, neck deep in hot water, most of us with beers in hand and enjoying the peace before we were invaded with women.

  “I can’t believe you fuckers put your kits in my bag. I’ll need a new bag now.” Seph’s voice was anything but cross; in fact, he sounded as if he was going to fall asleep. Clearly youth hadn’t helped that much with the after effects of the game.

  “Maybe Santa Claus will have bought you one.” Jackson took a swig of his beer.

  Teddy had been taken on the walk to the village to see the Christmas tree and Santa Claus. I suspected that Santa Claus was the same Santa from my own childhood, the burly, overweight pub landlord who made children sit at a chair opposite him rather than on his knee, so he could shake his finger at them if they’d been naughty at any point that year.

  “A kit bag, some new bedding and a subscription to whisky of the month, and I’ll be a happy Joseph.” He tipped his head back onto the side of the hot tub.

  I splashed water at him. Would’ve been rude not to.

  “New bedding?” Owen looked disgusted. “How do you even know you need new bedding?"

  “You don’t have to know.” Seph hadn’t even flinched at the water. “You have a female living with you who probably knows exactly how many days of life your bedding has left. I have to know these things myself.”

  “Says the person who went a whole semester at uni without changing his sheets once.” I rested my hands behind the back of my head. There was nothing quite like being in a hot tub when it was snowing.

  Owen made a retching noise. “Seriously? You didn’t change your sheets for that long? That’s really not nice. Did you not have any luck with women at all?”

  There was a snigger from Seph. A proper, teenage-style snigger. “I had plenty.”

  “Tell me you didn’t take them back to your bed? Or was this when you were seeing your psycho ex?” Owen had clearly heard the story from Payton.

  “Before her, well, kind of before. I think we’d started sleeping together.”

  “Shame you couldn’t have just left it at that,” Jackson interrupted.

  Shay, who looked a bit less dead than last night, leaned forward. “First semester at uni; you’re not ugly and for some reason, women aren’t repulsed by you, and you didn’t change your sheets. That is fucking awful.”

  “I never took them back to my room. Always went back to theirs.” Seph sounded way too pleased with himself. “That way I could leave when I wanted and didn’t need to look like a dick if I didn’t want to stay the night. I was no worse than Callum. And I didn’t actually spend that many nights in my own bed, so the sheets didn’t really need changing.”

  “You’re an abysmal human being,” Shay said, nothing other than sleep in his tone. “I can’t believe that I’m related to you. I feel dirty.”

  Seph laughed and kicked Shay under the water. “You’re far worse than me. When you did have three days of work, I think you brought four girls back.”

  Killian sat up.
“At the same time?”

  “No.” Shay reached for his beer. “That would’ve been a porn film.”

  Seph shook his head. “There was the brunette on the Thursday. The blonde on the Friday, with her friend who was also blonde with a bit of purple, and this gorgeous dark haired woman on the Saturday.”

  “Didn’t you ask for her number?” Shay gave an evil grin.

  “Absolutely not. I haven’t had a one-night stand for about four months.” The tone in his voice suggested he was immensely pleased with himself.

  “Why’s that?” Jackson reached for another beer, which was being nicely chilled by the snow.

  Seph paused for a minute. I braced myself. I loved my brother. I’d wiped his arse, made his lunches, put him to bed, listened to him read, walked him to school, bought him his first box of condoms and taught him – using a courgette – how to put one on.

  I also had the not-so-pleasure of him telling me all about his first experience and asking for pointers. The joys of being a much older brother.

  “I decided that I needed to move on from short term stuff. You know, the rest of you are all on the way to being married or are married and having babies and I’m still being, well, a teenager.” He shrugged so hard the water rippled.

  I wasn’t sure what to say.

  Seph had always been the youngest. We had eight – nearly nine - years between us: a generation, and hearing his response made me feel older.

  My little brother had almost grown up.

  “You haven’t been with a woman in four months?” I tried to contain what was left of my surprise – most of it had already been used, on Seph through various dramatics.

  He didn’t look smug. Which was worrying.

  “No. I’ve tried a few dating apps. An agency, because being vaguely familiar in the media isn’t great at securing a date who’s actually interested in you. But, let’s move on. There are more interesting topics. How’s the security business, Killian?”

  Killian was doubled over enough with either shock or laughter to warrant me wondering whether we needed to pull him out of the hot tub, but he surfaced.

  Seph looked non-plussed. A snowflake dropped onto his nose.

  “Let’s move on. Fantasy football league. Callum’s at the top, which is unnecessary. Jackson’s second. We need to know what we can do to make sure Callum doesn’t finish top, again.”

  I sat back, felt the warmth of the water around me and let my eyes close, for a moment thinking of everything I had to be thankful for.

  It was just after two when I found my father in the garden, the snow-covered garden where he didn’t really need to be.

  He was smoking a cigar, which explained why he was so far down the garden, the spot where Marie couldn’t see him. Cigar smoking wasn’t on the list of allowed activities.

  “If she finds you, she’ll toast your balls.” I fake-glared at my old man. He’d had a stroke a couple of years ago; he’d been okay, but there had been modifications to his lifestyle needed, none of which he’d been thrilled about.

  “She ignores it when I come down here and I don’t check her credit card balance.” He shook his head. “It’s an unsaid agreement we have.”

  “If you checked Marie’s credit card balance, you’d probably have another stroke.” I had a good idea of how much my step-mother spent. Luckily, she could afford it, but my dad was fairly frugal.

  “So she can’t complain about the odd cigar. Are you ready for your wedding?” He raised a brow and reminded me of Callum with his expression.

  There had been a time when I’d wondered whether Callum was my father’s son or not. Their relationship was strained and I found out that before my mother’s death, she’d been having an affair, a long-term one, with a neighbour. My father knew, but didn’t challenge her, aware that he was working away most of the time and their relationship was on a knife’s edge.

  As a kid, I’d blamed my father for a lot. That had carried on into adulthood – he’d rejected us to a large extent, mainly because he hadn’t a clue how to parent and his way to look after us was to make sure we never wanted for anything. But he’d been unaffectionate, almost scared of the four of us, and I knew that there was part of me that would never quite forgive how he couldn’t bear to hold Callum. But we’d made peace. He was being more of the father now than we needed, and he doted on Teddy and Eliza.

  “Yes. The waiting’s killing me.” I needed it to happen sooner, get it done. Make sure she didn’t change her mind.

  “This time in two days it’ll be done. Do you remember mine and Marie’s wedding?”

  I laughed. “You made me wear a suit.”

  He nodded, watching the tip of the cigar as it went out. “I still have it, or rather Marie does. She kept all your outfits. When you have a son, you should have him try it on when he’s old enough.”

  “If.”

  “If what?”

  “If we have one.”

  My father laughed. “You could end up with just daughters – that would be fun to see. Can’t see you liking them dating too much.”

  The thought of that rankled me even without considering it too much. Killian had mentioned opening up a boarding school for girls in the middle of Dartmouth moor and if we did have a girl, that could be a possibility until she was thirty or so.

  “If we have any.”

  He shook his head. “Max, if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. Maybe when you least expect it.”

  “Maybe I’m just not meant to be a father.” That was the crux of what was bothering me: that I was too much like him, and by not having kids, I wouldn’t be able to damage them.

  “Maybe you’re not, son.” He shrugged. “Or maybe you’re just being fucking melodramatic. There’s no reason why she can’t get pregnant so just give it time, and remember that it might not take as long with your second. We learnt that with Ava.”

  I looked at him and squinted. “Ava was a surprise?”

  “She was to me. No idea whether she was to Marie or not.” He paused. “Do you remember the speech you gave at our wedding?”

  “The one Marie made me give?”

  “That one.”

  “Vaguely.” I did. I remembered it in every horrific detail. I’d found a book on wedding speeches and taken the lines I’d thought sounded most grown up and read them out in a very sincere voice.

  My dad chuckled. “I think you were the reason Marie agreed to marry me. She tore a strip out of me one night, saying I’d made you grow up too quick and that she didn’t like me enough to stay here, but she wasn’t going to abandon you.”

  My dad became lost in the memory.

  “But she calmed down. She’s never lost that temper. It works well for making up.”

  “Bleach my brain with that image. Don’t tell me anymore.”

  He laughed and started walking towards the house.

  “You know you smell of cigars?”

  “I’ll just tell her it was you.”

  “She won’t believe that. She isn’t an idiot, even if she did stay here with us.”

  “Marie knows damn well I come down here for a cigar once a week or so. She pretends not to notice just like I pretend not to notice the deliveries she gets every day.” He stopped before we got to the door, snow starting to fall again. “You’ll be a much better father than I was with you. And it will happen, Maxwell, just give it time.”

  I took a long, deep gulp of breath. “I think I want a baby more than Vic does some days.”

  It was a confession I needed to get off my chest.

  “Maybe, son. Maybe not. I don’t think you can compare it; you just deal with things in different ways. You’re very driven and focused and when you don’t get something straight away, it eats up at you. Take a step back and enjoy a longer ride. Maybe quite literally. Enjoy being a couple for a while longer, because having kids changes everything.”

  I decided not to think too much about what my dad had just said, mainly because I figured he was telling m
e to enjoy having sex and that was too much for my brain to compute.

  Seph chose that moment to blast through the doors, knocking straight into me.

  “Where’s the fire?”

  He stopped, laughed, shook his head and then legged it down the garden with no shoes on. Three seconds later and there was a yell from Shay.

  I shook my head and decided not to get involved; food sounded like a much better idea.

  11

  A pair of Louboutin’s – from Maxwell to Victoria

  Ava

  Eli found me in the village baker’s, deciding between a warm apple pie or a strawberry tart. The decision seemed a key one, as if the rest of my life would depend on the level of enjoyment I received from my choice. Sweeter strawberries with the cool custard or the tart and heat from the apples inside the crisp pastry.

  “Why don’t you get both? Eat the apple pie now and save the strawberry one for before breakfast tomorrow.”

  The voice was rich and deep, having the same effect on me as it had from the start.

  The start of us.

  “Because I have to make sure this backside can still fit in these jeans.” I tapped my ass with a gloved hand.

  Eli bent down to my ear. “You could be three or four sizes bigger and it would still be the best bottom ever.”

  The shiver that went up my spine had nothing to do with the cold gust of air that blew into the shop.

  “She’ll have the strawberry and the apple. In fact, make it two apple.”

  His hand landed on my back, a possessive touch and I leaned into it. “I’m hoping the other pie’s for you?”

  “Definitely. I need to re-coop some of those calories.”

  His hand pressed a little firmer rather than slipping away, the touch incredibly purposeful. No empty gesture lay behind it.

  “Why aren’t you in the hot tub with the others?”