‘Judging your future by your past, dear, he’ll be a deviant fibber, anyway.’ Abruptly, he jettisoned his silly persona. ‘Do you want me to fly over, if there’s somewhere for me to sleep? I can help.’ He made the offer in exactly the same casual way he might offer her a slice of his pizza.
Gratitude brought a lump to Leah’s throat. ‘That’s really lovely of you, but don’t spend your precious annual leave or your money helping clear up my family’s mess. Just be ready for some marathon TV motor sport sessions when I get back in a couple of weeks.’
‘Will do.’ He had to raise his voice over the sound of a motorbike roaring past. She could envisage him stuck in nose-to-tail traffic in the one-way system en route to the admin job he didn’t particularly like at the warehouse of a huge online retailer that nobody particularly liked either.
She had to swallow before she spoke again. ‘You’re a good buddy, Scott.’
The roar of the traffic continued. Without it, Leah might have thought Scott had moved into a signal-less area. ‘You there?’ she prompted, when his silence had stretched to several seconds.
‘Sorry, yeah. Speaking as the goodest of good buddies, one who wants only good things for you … you’re sure Hot Man Saviour is available?’
‘His name’s Ronan and yes, he’s divorced.’ She waited, pretty certain that she knew what was coming next.
More traffic. ‘Really divorced? I don’t have to remind you about Tommy?’ Although there was a definite note of warning, Scott’s voice also dripped with sympathy.
Leah reached down plates from the cupboard with the hand not holding the phone, prepared, as it was Scott, to indulge his protective streak. ‘Ronan’s really divorced and his ex-wife lives with her new boyfriend. He’s a pilot.’ She told him about Ronan’s helicopter coming down.
‘A supercool career and heroic tendencies! I’m well jel.’ The teasing note was back in Scott’s voice. ‘There’s nothing in the way of him being your next big mistake.’
Leah crowed a protest. ‘You bitch, Scott Matthewson! He might not be a mistake.’
‘Cling onto that thought and there’s nothing to hold you back from a sizzling holiday romance, lucky girl.’
‘Not a thing,’ she agreed, brightening at the thought of the cunning plan Ronan had hatched to award the teens space and the adults privacy.
‘OK, well, I’m at work now and it’s one minute to nine, so byeeee!’ And Scott was gone, back to his real life while Leah carried on like a square peg in a round hole. Making like a mum.
With a sigh, she stuck her head out into the hall. ‘Jor-dan! Na-tash-a! Let’s have breakfast!’
‘Don’t want none!’ Natasha yelled back.
Leah debated whether to bother saying, ‘Don’t want any,’ as Alister or Michele would. Deciding that correcting grammar wasn’t in her job description, she shouted back, ‘No pain au chocolat?’
‘No!’
‘Cool. More for me.’ Jordan clattered downstairs, almost spinning Leah like a turnstile in the doorway in his eagerness.
Natasha ran down behind him, hair half-brushed. ‘I don’t want Jordan to have mine.’
‘Sit down and eat it then,’ suggested Leah mildly. ‘Jordan, there’s plenty. You don’t have to act as if you’ll get no more food for a week.’
‘Hot and melty.’ Jordan crammed more than half of the pastry into his mouth in the first bite. ‘Eat some, Gnasher. You’re thin as a snake.’
‘Bite me, fat boy.’
Leah was saved from having to intercede when Curtis and Ronan turned up to ask if Natasha and Jordan would like Curtis to show them around the village and maybe hang out at the park. Natasha threw down her pastry as if it was responsible for all the ills in her world. ‘No, I wouldn’t!’
‘No?’ Dumbfounded, Leah gazed at her niece’s faceful of obstinate lines. She hadn’t envisaged anything as fundamental as one of the kids refusing the treat. She was careful not to catch Ronan’s eyes and make her dismay visible. ‘Don’t you want to hang out with the guys?’
Natasha pretended to stick her finger down her throat.
Irritation began to burn in Leah. ‘Natasha–!’
Jordan butted in cheerfully. ‘That’s a “no”. Result! C’mon, Curtis. Let’s go quick, before she changes her mind.’ Ignoring Curtis’s awkward mumbling about it being OK with him for Natasha to go with, Jordan raced upstairs for his euros in case they went near the shop, which Leah translated into ‘The shop will be the first and most important port of call.’
When he skidded back into the kitchen Leah reminded him, ‘Here by one, please, to allow time for lunch before hospital visiting. And, Jordan, you and I need a little word beforehand.’ Belatedly she remembered her earlier intention to talk to him about his attitude to his sister and mentally smote her forehead. If that talk had taken place Natasha might not now be eschewing her brother’s company so rudely. And inconveniently.
‘Yep,’ Jordan agreed cheerfully. The door banged behind the boys and their voices faded away.
Natasha treated the closed door to her most rancorous glare. Then, in slow motion, her face crumpled into a mask of woe and she began to heave with noisy, squeaky sobs. ‘I just want to stay with you-hoo-hoo, Leah!’
Dragging up a chair, Leah pulled Natasha’s head against her shoulder. ‘You can stay with me. Of course you can. But there was no need to be like that with the boys. “No thanks” would’ve been fine.’ Over Natasha’s head, Leah met Ronan’s gaze with helpless resignation. Not going to happen.
With a rueful smile, he mouthed, ‘Later,’ and let himself out quietly.
‘I’m soh-soh-sorry I hi-hi-high-fived you in the face,’ Natasha wailed. ‘I lov-love you, Leah. Forevs!’
Eyes burning, Leah squeezed Natasha’s slender frame. ‘I love you forevs, too. Thank you for apologising, sweetie. I know it won’t happen again.’
Natasha sniffed mightily. ‘Is Mum going to be OK? We won’t have to go home without her, will we?’
‘She will get better and I doubt very much we’ll have to go home without either of your parents. I know it seems like a huge deal but this mega-sickness does happen. Do you know it happened before?’
Natasha lifted a blotchy face. ‘No?’
Leah’s hand began to circle comfortingly on Natasha’s back. ‘Well, here’s the story: she threw up a lot, the doctors gave her medicine. She got better and had you, so she got something good out of it.’
Natasha gave a hiccup that might have been a laugh. ‘But she wasn’t split up from Dad.’
‘That’s true,’ Leah admitted. She knew of no medicine to make Michele want Alister back.
Leaning her damp face against Leah’s neck, Natasha sniffed. ‘Can we ring her?’
‘It’s probably better if we text, isn’t it? If she’s in a ward with other people then her phone ringing would disturb people who are ill and need to sleep.’
Natasha ferreted in her pocket for her phone. ‘I’ll do it.’
Craning, Leah read the message as Natasha tapped it in.
Natasha: Are you OK mum are you still in hospital are you coming out soon are you coming back to us soon have you stopped honking xxx Best love and massive hugs forevs xxxxXXXXXXX
She looked a bit happier when she’d fired her missive into cyberspace but still snuggled back into Leah’s arms. ‘I’ve got a bad belly, all heavy and achey.’
‘Sounds like a normal period.’
‘Every time?’ Natasha sounded outraged. ‘That sucks.’
‘Truly does. Shall we watch a DVD?’
Natasha sat up and wiped her nose on her hand. ‘Yay! Pitch Perfect 2’s upstairs in the games room but the boys don’t want to watch it.’
‘You should have told them it’s full of hot girls.’ Leah kissed the top of Natasha’s head. ‘We’ll take crisps and lemonade but you go and blow your nose first because you’re breathing like a dragon.’
With a watery giggle, Natasha headed up to the bathroom. Leah whipped o
ut her phone and texted Michele.
Leah: When you can text, will you give me Bailey’s number? I was so surprised last night I didn’t ask for details like which hospital you’re in. Would he keep me updated? Give my number to him. I hope you’re soon feeling better. I saw the text Natasha just sent you – she’s a bit emosh. xx
Feeling better at attempting to put a contingency in place in case her sister’s situation worsened, she was gathering up unhealthy snacks when Natasha returned. ‘Mum hasn’t answered.’
Leah glanced at her watch. ‘Probably nap time. Can you carry the crisps?’ They climbed up into the sunny room in the eaves, opening all the windows to blow out the stuffy air, then snuggled on the sofa to follow the fortunes of a girly singing group. The film didn’t have enough cars in it for Leah, but it kept Natasha amused. It wasn’t until they’d watched most of it that Leah’s gaze fell on the DVD case and she realised she was letting a 13-year-old watch a 15-certificate film.
Just went to prove what a crap mum she would have made, she thought, sinking more comfortably into the squashy sofa. Deputy Mum was just about all she could handle. Her phone buzzed in another text.
Bailey: Yo, this is Bailey. Michele forwarded ur text. Micheles still hurling but theyve put her on a drip to rehydrate her and give her stuff to help sickness. She feels slightly better. Shes in medical university of innsbruck.
Checking that Natasha was still glued to the TV screen, Leah replied.
Leah: Hi Bailey, this is Leah. Thanks so much. Michele goes in and out of contact so I’d appreciate any updates because we’re all anxious, especially Natasha and Jordan. Thanks again.
When the DVD was over, Leah went down to the kitchen. She was washing salad for lunch when Natasha bounced into the room with a beaming smile. ‘Mum’s text me! She says she’s feeling slightly better and she’ll ring again tonight. Can we visit her, like we visit Dad?’
Fighting the urge to groan out loud for not having anticipated this request Leah gave her niece a big hating-to-disappoint-you hug. ‘That would be lovely but she’s a long car journey away so we’ll have to wait until she’s well enough to come to us, won’t we? Now, please can you text your brother and ask him to get his bum back here for lunch?’ It wasn’t one thirty yet but it would give Natasha something else to focus on. Deflecting teenagers from any given purpose was exhausting. Maybe it got easier with practice. Though what was she thinking? She didn’t need practice! Soon she’d be Cool Auntie again and could happily leave parenting to others.
‘But it’s not fair not seeing Mum,’ Natasha whined.
‘Hey, I know what would be really helpful.’ Leah beamed encouragingly, though returning to Cool Auntie suddenly seemed a long way off. ‘If you sorted out some bedding for your dad, because he’s going to sleep in the salon. Would you do that?’
Natasha brightened. ‘Yeah! Because he will come home soon, won’t he? Then maybe Jordan won’t be so sucky to me.’
When Jordan scuffed in at one forty, Leah was waiting for him with folded arms, having settled Natasha sorting through the enormous closet in her room, where the additional bedding was stored. ‘I’m hoping you have an explanation for me.’
Jordan halted just inside the door. He had sugar at one corner of his mouth. His brow quirked upward. ‘For what?’
‘For the way you’re treating your sister.’
A dark red tide inched up Jordan’s neck.
‘Because if you do have an explanation, I’m all ears. I’ll be sympathetic to anything reasonably logical.’
Laughing uneasily, Jordan shuffled his feet. ‘She’s a douche.’
Leah didn’t smile. She sat at the table and pulled out another chair, beckoning Jordan into it.
Reluctantly, he sat. She fixed him with a beady gaze. ‘I expect you get sick of the “You’re the eldest” stuff. I know your mum used to. But I obviously struck lucky because despite Nanna and Granddad constantly laying “You’re the eldest” on her, my big sister was always on my side. I find that really admirable. And she earned my lifelong loyalty because of it.’
Jordan sat very still.
Leah hadn’t finished. ‘I’m floundering, here, to be honest. You know I’m not a parent. I don’t know if you taking out your own anxieties on your little sister is acceptable, or understandable, or whether it will scar you for life if I tell you how disappointed I am that you’re going out of your way to make things worse for her when she’s upset already. But here’s the thing. For now, we’re all each of us has got. Remember what I said yesterday?’
‘Don’t make the crap crapper.’ Jordan’s face could get no redder.
She let herself smile. ‘Our new family motto.’ She patted her nephew’s shoulder and then, because he was a kid, no matter how much he’d roll his eyes if she said so, she gave him a big hug. ‘I think this is where your mum and dad would ask you whether you had any concerns to share. Do you?’
He heaved a great sigh. ‘Yeah. Is it long till lunch?’
At Hautepierre, Alister greeted the news that Michele was in hospital with a shocked expression. ‘Oh, dear. She’s obviously quite ill.’ Then he caught sight of Natasha’s face. ‘But the doctors know how to sort this out. They’re very good at it.’
He raised crossed fingers. ‘But at least I have better news from my side – it looks like surgery’s tomorrow. Once I’ve got the pins in I just have to get over the op, show them I can get upstairs on crutches, then I’m outta here.’
Everyone began laughing and joking in relief until Jordan, reliably thinking of his tummy, asked to be allowed a drink and a raisin cake from the cafeteria and politely asked if Natasha would like to come, too.
Alister waited until they were out of earshot. ‘What a bloody mess Michele’s in,’ he said, succinctly. ‘What a horrible holiday for you.’
‘Not as bad as yours,’ she joked feebly.
Pain flashed across his face. ‘It would have to go some to be as bad as mine. And now I’m going to have to beg yet another favour. I’ve been trying to think of a way around it but I can’t.’
He looked so miserable that Leah’s heart, which had lightened considerably at Alister’s op finally being scheduled, slithered back into her white flip-flops as she tried and failed to imagine the fresh responsibility looming. ‘Just ask,’ she managed, through stiff lips.
He flushed. ‘Could you possibly do my washing? This is my last pair of clean pyjamas.’
Leah almost laughed in relief. ‘That I can manage.’
Chapter Twelve
On Tuesday morning, Ronan checked his email, hoping for a reply from Selina, who was doing her usual fine job of winding him up, this time by ignoring all communications from him. Instead, he found another message from Henry.
To: Ronan Shea
From: Henry Brook [Buzz Sightseer]
Subject: Absence from the workplace
Thank you for updating me on your health situation and confirming your absence from your post is likely to be extensive.
I’m attaching an electronic copy of your salary slip. As a gesture of goodwill you were kept on full pay to 23rd July, which is the date you left the UK. NB No flying pay can be earned during an absence from work. You’ve been paid holiday pay for the weeks beginning 24th and 31st July as it has become clear that the two weeks of annual leave you had booked will fall during your extended absence from the workplace.
Your statutory sick pay began on 7th August.
Stunned, Ronan snapped, ‘For fuck’s sake!’ After a glance across the landing to check Curtis’s bedroom door was shut and he could consider his inadvertent F-bomb unheard, he switched his glare back to his laptop.
Rubbing his shoulder and wishing he could train himself not to sleep on it, he reread the message. Statutory Sick Pay? Since when? And he was pretty sure he couldn’t be forced to take annual leave when sick – though that wasn’t the biggest battle here. After opening the attachment and glancing at its unsatisfactory contents, Ronan began to type out his
surprise and disappointment, and to counter that he proposed not only full pay but compensation in lieu of flight pay.
He paused. Charging into the situation furious and unprepared was as stupid as initiating a take off without having planned his flight. He opened a browser window to search for information, breathing deeply and giving himself the opportunity to calm down.
But by the time he’d finished reading the relevant government website he was, if anything, angrier. Henry was avoiding doing the right thing by hiding behind the letter of the law. He began to type again.
I don’t have my contract to hand to check whether it contains reference to company sick pay or accident pay, so perhaps you could remind me?
He was still combing the government website when Henry came back, quoting, with an air of finality, the relevant clause in Ronan’s contract. What it boiled down to was that company sick pay and accident pay was paid at the company’s discretion.
With the whiff of being crapped on strong in his nose, he typed a grim reply.
If being injured while in your service doesn’t encourage you to exercise that discretion then I suppose I have no choice but to investigate other legal remedies open to me, such as making a claim for compensation.
Henry’s response pinged back in under two minutes.
That’s another matter for the insurance company. It’s what employer’s liability is for.
Ronan felt sick as he read and reread the terse message. Henry was looking for his most financially advantageous way to deal with the issue. Their friendship, the hours he’d put into supporting him when the business was new and Henry had needed an experienced shoulder to lean on, evidently counted for zip. Zilch. Zero.
He cast his thoughts back more than five years. He read contracts carefully but must have assumed that as he was at the core of Henry’s start-up plan, Henry would exercise discretion in Ronan’s favour. Because it was only fair.
Just for the Holidays Page 15