Just for the Holidays

by Sue Moorcroft

  But Leah’s mind obviously trod a different route. ‘But your shoulder was well enough for you to drive all the way over here?’

  He flexed his shoulder. ‘We flew with an airline. Dad’s old BMW’s kept here and it’s an auto, so I can manage local journeys.’ As she’d brought up the subject of cars he decided to broach the elephant in the café. ‘I presume our exciting tour of the car park was prompted by my assumption that because the Porsche is a powerful machine it must therefore belong to your husband? I apologise for falling for sexist stereotypes but, in my defence, Alister had been quite emphatic about the big pink car not being his. As I’d seen you driving it, I therefore assumed it was yours.’

  Her eyebrows flew up. Then clanged down. ‘My what?’

  ‘Your car.’

  ‘No. Before that. Husband?’

  He tried to work out what had prompted her aghast expression. ‘Have I committed another solecism? Your partner. Significant other. Boyfriend. Baby-dadda. Alister.’

  Suddenly her smile was back, full strength and dazzling along with dancing eyes. ‘Alister’s my brother-in-law. He’s married to Michele.’

  He couldn’t hide his astonishment. ‘Alister and Michele are married?’

  A short laugh. ‘Well, separated. It’s very recent, hence their interesting decision that both should be included in the family holiday. My presence here is to defuse tension – though I’m not sure it’s working. What on earth made you think I’m married to Alister? He’s a lovely man, of course,’ she added, quickly, ‘but a lot older than me.’

  ‘The first time I saw you – when I was the one showing off, jumping in like a callow youth to air my French – Natasha fetched you to join your family and mentioned “Dad” so I mentally pigeonholed you as the mum.’

  ‘A mum to two teenagers? I obviously need to upgrade my moisturiser. Michele’s eight years older than I am and Alister’s four years older than her.’

  ‘You look miles and miles too young,’ he agreed, grinning as she rolled her eyes at his flattery. ‘But you could have started early or Natasha and Jordan could be your stepkids. Families come in many permutations. I saw you going out with Alister and the children, and with Michele having a boyfriend – though that’s explained now that I know of the separation – I drew the conclusion that you and Alister were a couple.’

  ‘Boyfriend?’ she repeated blankly. ‘Michele has a boyfriend? As in … boyfriend?’

  Uh-oh. Uh-bloody-oh. Leah was looking as shocked as if he’d just keyed her precious car. He could only think that he’d just let a particularly scabby cat out of an inadequately fastened bag. He’d escaped his own distressing domestic strife too recently to involve himself with anybody else’s and his first instinct was to backtrack. ‘Hasn’t she? Perhaps the stunt driving affected my brain. Shall we try the garage again? I’d hate the mechanics to have finished for the day by the time I get back. And you have shopping to do.’

  ‘Tell me why you think she has a boyfriend, first.’

  He shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’d much rather not.’

  She gazed at him for several seconds, then slumped back into her chair. ‘I understand.’ She took up her coffee cup as if she had nothing more on her mind than savouring its richness. Until she tacked on: ‘I’ll simply confront Michele when I get back to the gîte. I put aside my own plans to come on this holiday and supposedly save her from shooting herself.’ Her sentences began to rise both in speed and volume. ‘I’ve driven her ugly fat car and played mum while she, she said, was under the weather. I’ve endured her bitching with Alister, I’ve taken on most of the domestic drudgery, I’m doing everything I can to support her family. But a boyfriend is a detail she hasn’t shared with me and, frankly, it does put things in a different light.’

  Her colour stormed from chalky white to angry red. ‘And if I lose my temper it may involve shaking my sister by the throat. So if you want to avoid me being thrown into a French prison I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me what you think you know so that I have a chance to calm down before I get back!’

  Though taking a second to note that Leah looked amazing with her eyes snapping angrily, he could understand her feeling that she had a right to the truth. Also, if he refused to explain, it would surely mean a chill between them. And as he was already bound for Michele’s shit-list when Leah tackled her because the only ones around to report her activities were Ronan or Curtis, there seemed no point in hacking Leah off, too.

  He gave in. ‘I was painting the front of the house. A car pulled up and Michele rushed out and got into it. A man was in the driving seat. They kissed.’

  ‘Not a peck on the cheek?’ The sun picked out the gold flecks in Leah’s eyes.

  ‘By no means.’ Not unless Michele kept her cheek halfway down her throat. Then, because Leah obviously wasn’t going to give up before she’d drawn out the relevant details, he added, ‘An intimate, passionate kiss. Or ten.’

  ‘Right.’ She turned to gaze over the square.

  Ronan gave her time to absorb this obviously unexpected and unwelcome news, trying not to glance at his watch. He truly was beginning to get fidgety about his car.

  ‘Was your divorce amicable?’ she asked, suddenly. ‘I’m beginning to wonder whether they ever can be.’

  Though surprised by this tangent, he answered neutrally. ‘In my case, it was exasperating more than anything, much in keeping with Selina’s usual way of doing things. Time had already proved that we hadn’t made a heavenly match. I would have stuck with her for Curtis’s sake, but she met Darren and I was left with no real choice but to accept it and help Curtis with the realities of the break-up. I settled for “reasonably civilised” rather than “amicable” – considering how aggrieved I felt that my desire to hang on to Chez Shea meant Selina coming in for most of the equity from the marital home. It had been funded from what Dad left me plus the sweat of my brow before Selina ever moved in.

  ‘Anyway, that’s the way the law works. For nearly three years we’ve lived apart but in the same part of Orpington, close enough that we can share custody and Curtis can stay with me as my work rota allows.’

  Her gaze softened. ‘How’s it working out? I’m anxious for Natasha and Jordan.’

  He felt the familiar tug of unhappiness. ‘It’s not the same as living together full time. It’s hard, part-time fatherhood. Not able to see your child every day, being excluded from swathes of his life. It’s no wonder that Curtis is growing away from me.’

  ‘Is he?’ She propped her elbows on the table as she watched his face, seeming to have completely set aside her beef with her sister while she concentrated all her attention on him.

  He had to force a laugh so as not to choke at the sympathy in her eyes. ‘Maybe it would have been the same even if we’d still been a family. Teenagers are teenagers. I hate his Goth look and his obviously cultivated mispronunciations. He’s been able to pronounce “thanks” perfectly well till now.’

  She groaned. ‘But that’s just teenspeak, isn’t it? Like Natasha with “obvs” instead of obviously and “forevs” for forever. I expect it’s just the new “fing”.’

  ‘I don’t know about Jordan and Natasha but Curtis is full of new “fings”, like turning up at the beginning of the holiday with all that ironmongery on his face, for which Selina gave permission without consulting me. I was furious but I had to swallow it for the sake of good relations with them both. I told myself that piercings can grow over once the hardware’s removed, so not to make a big thing out of it, and hope it’s just a phase. What if Selina had let him have tattoos?’ He felt his jaw tighten. Then he saw that Leah had two rings in each ear. ‘Not that I’ve got anything against piercings per se. He’s just too young.’

  ‘If he’s like Jordan he loves to do things he’s too young for.’ She jumped to her feet, switching with dizzying speed from deep conversation to decisive action. ‘Let’s reunite you with your car. We both have things to do.’ She dropped some euros on the table w
ithout giving him a chance to contribute and strode off towards Rue des Roses.

  When they returned to the dusty collection of buildings that made up Garage Zimmermann the doors had been pushed back and Ronan could see the aging BMW inside. ‘Looks like I’m good to go. Thanks for the lift.’

  Her hand on his arm stayed him as he went to open her car door. ‘Thanks, Ronan. I put you in a difficult position about the boyfriend and I hope you understand why I was angry. I won’t really attack my sister.’ Her smile wobbled. ‘The kids have had enough to put up with.’

  He nodded. ‘It’s always the kids.’ Then he kissed her cheek, because why the hell not? He might as well get something good out of an afternoon that had left him with his shoulder thumping like a bitch. He didn’t want to make Leah feel bad by going over to the pharmacy to buy painkillers, though. He had some in the car and he’d ask for water at the garage to take them after she’d gone.

  In fact, by the time Ronan made it back to Kirchhoffen his shoulder pain had subsided to a dull ache, thanks to managing the steering wheel mainly one-handed. He found Curtis still sprawled on their neighbour’s lawn between Natasha and Jordan, heads close together as they played something incomprehensible on their phones. Alister was nowhere in sight but Michele looked up from a magazine to greet him.

  Ronan, returning a polite response, wondered if her smile would be quite so wide if she knew what beans he’d just spilled to Leah. He nudged Curtis with his toe. ‘We’d better get something sorted for dinner.’

  Curtis didn’t even look up from the game he was playing so furiously. ‘We’re eating here. Natasha, get the wither skeleton skull.’

  ‘What do I do with it?’ Natasha frowned as her thumbs darted over her phone screen.

  ‘Put it on the wither skeleton!’ Curtis and Jordan chorused scornfully.

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ Natasha looked abashed and the three laughed together as if Ronan had become invisible.

  ‘Curtis,’ Ronan said quietly, in the voice that meant he wasn’t enjoying invisibility.

  Curtis paused his game with a put-upon sigh, the heading-for-a-storm expression Ronan was getting to know lurking in his eyes. ‘Natasha and Jordan’s mum has invited us to have a barbie with them.’ Then, perhaps realising from Ronan’s frown that the use of manners might help achieve the result he was looking for, ‘Can we stay, please?’

  Michele called. ‘Do! Leah will be home any time with the food. She does a mean barbecue.’

  Ronan debated. Leah wouldn’t tackle her sister about the boyfriend in front of the children and Curtis having company was exactly what Ronan wanted as, so far this summer, the only other teens around the village had been French, and Curtis’s language skills weren’t quite good enough to keep up. And Ronan was prepared to put up with Michele now if it meant gaining a little more of Leah’s company later.

  ‘Thanks.’ He pulled up a garden chair and assumed a politely attentive expression as Michele launched into her impressions of Alsace, thinking, as he listened, how little resemblance he could discern between the sisters. Michele’s hair was shorter, curlier, and highlighted an improbable silvery blonde. Taller and more thickset, she was pallid compared to Leah’s sun-kissed glow. If Ronan had to pick a descriptor for Michele it would be ‘self-orientated’, whereas there seemed no single term to express Leah. She was complex, fun, unexpected, valiant, interesting – not to mention so hot and curvy that she’d look just as at home sprawled over a bonnet at a car show as she obviously was behind the wheel. And she’d probably be extremely hacked off at him if she knew that he’d let the thought of her as a hood ornament stray across his mind.

  Still, he tried to turn the conversation to his topic of interest. ‘Your sister loves her car.’

  ‘Leah’s pose-mobile.’ Michele wrinkled her nose. ‘Proper petrol-head is Leah. Spends half her life at circuits with Scott Matthewson.’

  ‘Is that her boyfriend?’ Damn.

  ‘No, just her ever-present best buddy. I’m quite glad, really,’ she added, frankly. ‘He wouldn’t be the best boyfriend for Leah. Heteroflexible,’ she added, meaningfully.

  Reassured by ‘buddy’ and not needing ‘heteroflexible’ explained to him, Ronan decided not to make his interest obvious by enquiring whether there was a boyfriend as well. Hearing a deep engine note approaching, he jumped up. ‘Sounds like Leah. I’ll help unload.’ He strode around the house, intercepting a frowning Leah as she yanked shopping from the Porsche’s boot.

  He made his voice low as he threaded his fingers through the handles of several bulging bags. ‘Heads up. Michele’s invited us for a barbecue and Curtis was keen so I agreed. Sorry if that creates an obstacle to you shaking her by the throat.’

  She managed a one-cornered smile. ‘I haven’t finished brooding so she’s safe.’

  ‘Good to know.’ Following her around to the kitchen door, he let his voice return to social volume. ‘That boot takes more than I’d have guessed.’

  ‘Enough for me,’ she agreed. Passing through the garden, she shouted hellos.

  ‘I thought we could barbecue,’ Michele called, without moving a muscle.

  ‘Already got the news. On it.’

  Not intending to get stuck with Michele again, Ronan elected to hang out with Leah in the kitchen. Soon the kids piled in and there were four pairs of helping hands. Or one pair of hands, plus three eager potential diners making menu requests and getting in the way.

  Leah made no complaint that Michele didn’t budge from her comfortable spot, or that when Alister reappeared he was grouchy because he’d drunk too much wine in the sun and, despite a nap, his head was clanging. She just laughed and joked with the children and calmly managed to barbecue in the garden as well as preparing a salad and steam a chocolate and marshmallow melt-in-the middle pudding in the kitchen.

  Ronan buttered bread and carried whatever needed carrying, earning an approving nod from Leah. ‘A kitchen porter who doesn’t forget, avoid or bitch about the task at hand; you’re a priceless commodity.’

  ‘Glad you’re impressed.’ He was enjoying his arm brushing hers as they manoeuvred around each other so he forbore to point out that fetching and carrying wasn’t hard compared to his normal job of delicately controlling the height and speed of a complex piece of machinery in the air, reading instruments, navigating, communicating with the ground and simultaneously giving his spiel to exclaiming tourists about the Gherkin Building and the London Eye.

  He helped clear up after the meal when Michele excused herself in pursuit of an early night and the children went off indoors somewhere to play pool. Alister dozed over more wine and Ronan was glad all over again that Alister and Leah weren’t married. It made Ronan feel better about hanging on for coffee with her and remembering how good she’d looked in that purple bikini.

  Chapter Four

  Natasha, Jordan and Curtis were already strapped into The Pig and Alister was loading the day’s supply of drinks and snacks when Leah, reasoning that the end justified the means, dropped the bad news on him.

  ‘Alister, do you mind taking the kids to the aerial activity park on your own? I’m feeling too bleugh to whiz down ziplines. First day of the month, you know.’ Smiling apologetically, she counted on the reference to her cycle to discourage protests or questions.

  Alister flushed slightly as he took the car keys but was unable to resist enlarging her French vocabulary. ‘Of course I don’t mind taking the kids to le parc accrobranche. You stay here and, um, recover.’

  Though she suffered a pang of guilt at jumping ship – or jumping Pig – Leah waved farewell as the vehicle reversed out of the drive. Jordan and Natasha, mouths forming Os of surprise, were obviously questioning their dad as to why Leah was left behind. Then, evidently satisfied with whatever reply he made, Natasha waved back and Jordan turned to talk to Curtis.

  Once they were out of sight, Leah let herself back into the house silently and padded through the kitchen to the salon, a formal room the family hadn’t much
bothered with. Its window gave a good view through the shrubs and down the empty drive to the lane though, and Leah sank onto the sofa to worry gently while she waited.

  Her patience was rewarded twenty minutes later when a blue hatchback pulled up in the lane outside. Heart ticking anxiously, Leah watched the driver take out a phone and tap at it. A text to announce his arrival, she thought. Sure enough, she heard an upstairs door open – Michelle’s room – and footsteps dance down the wooden stairs. Another opening door – back door – and, moments later, Michele came into view, skipping down the drive – wearing one of her most flattering dresses. Hair freshly blow-dried. A hop into the car, the driver leaned towards Michele – kissing – for a long minute – ages – and, finally, the engine note rose and the car roared off.

  Despite seeing exactly what she’d been warned she would, Leah felt sick with disappointment and dismay.

  Michele had been constantly lying about her state of health to get rid of her family so that she could meet up with her lover.

  It was several minutes before Leah could coax movement from her heavy limbs. What could she – or should she – do? The existence of a boyfriend made Michele’s mess worse, destroying as it did any lingering hopes of reconciliation.

  Poor Jordan and Natasha. Poor Alister.

  Poor, poor Alister – because Leah had recognised the car before she’d recognised the boyfriend. The metallic cobalt-blue boyracer hatchback with alloy wheels, spoilers and skirts belonged to Bailey Johns, a buff personal trainer and coach at Peak Fitness, the gym-cum-community centre used by the Milton family. Bailey coached Jordan’s soccer team and was high on his hero-worship scale; Jordan could often be found in the crowd of adolescents hanging around the car. As a fellow petrol-head, though she preferred her cars without giant air boxes or pointless light arrays, Leah chatted to Bailey on the odd occasion she picked Jordan up.