Her headset allowing her to chat as she made up the bed for Alister in the salon, Leah laughed, shaking the duvet energetically, its pattern of large yellow daisies betraying it as Natasha’s choice. ‘I’m not a girl to kiss and tell but we did dip briefly under the teenage anti-adult-fun radar.’
‘Seriously?’
Leah decided that for once she wasn’t in the mood to have her leg pulled about her record with men and breezed on. ‘I pick Alister up this afternoon. I’ve configured the seats in The Pig so he can prop his leg up. Apparently it feels as if it’s going to explode, otherwise.’
After an instant’s silence Scott accepted the change of subject. ‘Messy. Have you worked out how to get back to the UK?’
‘One problem at a time.’ Leah reached for the sheet. It had ducks on.
Then, ‘LEAH?’ Natasha was evidently trying to locate Leah by the simple expedient of standing in the hallway and bellowing.
‘Sounds like someone wants you.’ Scott laughed.
‘Leeeeea-ah!’ bawled Natasha.
‘Welcome to my new world.’ She lifted her voice. ‘In the salon!’
Natasha appeared at the door. ‘What are you doing? Who are you talking to? Scott? Oh, can I talk to him, pleeeease? I haven’t seen him for ages!’ Natasha spent the next five minutes laughing and chattering into Leah’s headset, calling Scott ‘Scottie Dog’ and getting in the way while Leah finished the bed and heaved a small chest of drawers across from under the window to serve as a nightstand.
Finally, Natasha thrust the headset back. ‘Scott wants to say bye. Are we having breakfast soon? What time are we fetching Dad? How far did you say Mum got last night? Is it OK if Curtis comes round?’
Laughing, Leah waved Natasha away. ‘Yes; don’t know; Zurich in Switzerland; and yes.’
‘You sounded like a parent,’ Scott accused, when she regained possession of her phone.
‘Deputy parent only. When Alister reappears today normal service will resume.’
But when the afternoon arrived Leah began to suspect that normal service was still a way off. She successfully identified where to park to collect a discharged patient, but getting Alister into The Pig proved to be a mission. Leah and Jordan heaved, Alister hopped, and Natasha provided an anxious commentary about the new big black boot and were they being careful because of all the hardware in Alister’s leg. Leah almost had sympathy with Jordan when he gritted, ‘Shut up, Gnasher.’
By the time they’d got him home to the gîte, Alister was pale and terse and Leah had postponed her plans to move back into La Petite Annexe until the next day.
Flexing their muscles again, Leah and Jordan got poor Alister out of the vehicle and hauled an armchair and footstool from salon to kitchen for him, the occupational therapist now having instructed him to be out of bed during the day. For the rest of the holiday a nurse would visit daily to administer blood-thinning injections and a physiotherapist would call four times a week to torture Alister towards health. Just before heading homeward he’d return to Hautepierre for staple removal and for the boot to be replaced by a plaster.
It became plain to Leah that in all other respects she’d be first in line when it came to Alister’s care until they were safely back in the UK. She closed her mind to what might happen to him back in Bettsbrough. She’d be back in her own home and deep into her new job.
Adjusting her thoughts to the present, she smiled reassuringly. ‘I’ve made you a bed in the salon so you don’t need to worry about the stairs.’
Alister, wincing, let himself down into the chair and lifted his leg onto the stool as if it were made of spun glass. ‘Thanks.’ He sighed as he let his head settle back. ‘Actually … I didn’t mention it at the hospital in case they refused to discharge me but –’ he made a ‘this is awkward’ face ‘– there’s no bathroom on the ground floor of the gîte.’
‘Balls.’ Leah was too appalled that she’d so overlooked the obvious to stifle the profanity, making Jordan laugh and Natasha reprove, ‘Leeeeea-ah!’ Leah even looked out into the hall as if hoping a magic bathroom portal might materialise. What she saw instead was the wooden staircase, no doubt looking like a polished Everest to someone on crutches.
Alister flushed uncomfortably. ‘Don’t worry! I’ll just have to make it up to the first floor. That’s why they’ll only discharge you once they’ve seen you hop up and down a few steps.’ But his gaze flicked towards the kitchen window and the garden.
Stifling the urge to rage ‘Balls’ a few more times, louder and more viciously, Leah sucked in a huge breath and dredged up a smile. ‘There’s La Petite Annexe but if you intend to base yourself here in the kitchen during the day you’ll have to get yourself across the garden every time you want the loo–’
‘Perfect.’ Alister’s face relaxed. ‘I have to get up and potter around regularly, anyway. If you’re sure?’
Leah felt her smile might crack. ‘It’s the only solution. Right, kids, let’s get your dad’s stuff moved.’
‘Really?’ Jordan groaned. But no amount of complaining altered the fact that they must transport Alister’s things down the garden, the very same things they’d moved from top to ground floor that morning. As if to underline how much Leah’s lovely private space was now neither hers nor private, Alister promptly shut himself into La Petite Annexe for a nap.
Leah was left to revise the afternoon’s shopping plans. In her naïveté she’d thought it’d be possible to roar off to the supermarket in the Porsche once Alister was back at the gîte. Now she saw that there was no way she could consider Alister well enough to be in charge of the kids. She’d have to drive The Pig and take Jordan and Natasha. Her vision of being alone with her car trembled and vanished.
More importantly, as she shot a jaundiced look at the closed door of La Petite Annexe, so did her vision of being alone with Ronan.
She felt conflicted about the remaining couple of weeks of the holiday. As time away from her real life they seemed too long. But as time left with Ronan? Her heart dropped.
Short. Very short.
That evening, Curtis was lying on his bed, alternately watching prank videos on his laptop and texting on his phone, when a tap sounded at his door. ‘Yep?’ he answered, enjoying the novelty of there being no just wandering in.
His dad’s head appeared around the door. ‘Heard from your mum?’
‘Yep. She’s been WhatsApping.’ How many more times were they going to have this conversation?
Ronan’s gaze fell to Curtis’s phone. ‘Is it her you’re texting?’
‘Nope.’
‘OK.’
The head withdrew and the door shut. Curtis turned back to the conversation with Natasha.
Curtis: Dad just came in wanting to know if I heard from mum
Natasha: My mums supposed to be coming back here I want to see her
Curtis: Still miss her?
Natasha: Yes being split up sucks do you miss your mum
Curtis paused. His mum had texted or WhatsApped him most days. He was used to only having one parent at a time so if he ever missed the other one he’d stopped noticing.
Curtis: I’ll c her in sept. wuu2?
Natasha: Talking 2 u lol
Curtis grinned and sent back a ‘scratching head’ emoticon and added X.
He felt his face flush hotly as he added the kiss and quickly pressed send before he could change his mind. Since he’d known that Natasha liked him and discovered he liked her, his mind had buzzed with how to progress. He hadn’t kissed many girls. Two, in fact, and only one of those had been a successful proper kiss. The other had seen firmer contact with their noses than their lips.
Since the day he’d held Natasha’s hand he’d felt wired all the time they were together. Jordan kept giving him looks because Curtis was spending so much time talking to Natasha. Next time they were alone, Curtis resolved, he’d kiss her. She was pretty and funny and the way she looked at him made him feel like a giant.
Downstair
s, Ronan sprawled in the leather armchair that had once been his father’s, drinking coffee and trying to ignore the bare floorboards that he hadn’t stained and varnished yet because at every opportunity he was throwing off his work clothes and springing to Leah’s side like the Roadrunner.
Now, using his left hand to rhythmically stretch the yellow elastic ribbon as per physio’s instructions, he operated his phone with his right to check his email – nothing that required a reply and nothing from Selina: irritating, as Curtis seemed to be hearing from her regularly. Well, he couldn’t do anything about that from France. He switched to texting Leah instead.
Ronan: I didn’t see enough of you today. x
Leah: Likewise. x
Ronan: The way things are going, I’m going to have to fly in and abduct you. x
Leah: Sounds great! But as you can’t currently fly maybe we should focus on something more practical. Any ideas? x
Ronan: In the current situation, frustratingly few. Two intelligent single adults ought to be able to work out how to spend a couple of hours together without … distractions. x
Leah: By distractions you mean kids. How do parents get the privacy to have sex and create other kids??? x
Ronan: I think it’s easier if the adults share a bed every night. x
Ronan: Just taking a moment to appreciate the idea of sharing a bed with you. x
Leah: Not a sofa? x
Ronan: Sofa, bed, up against the wall … x
Her end of the conversation paused and Ronan got up for more coffee, pent-up energy to burn. Un-penting it with Leah didn’t look likely to happen. It was ridiculous that they couldn’t get together again. Apart from the annexe situation, he’d noticed that Jordan wasn’t hanging out with Curtis and Natasha so much. Was it simply because his dad was home? Or had Ronan emerging from the annexe behind Leah that day telegraphed lascivious intent towards Jordan’s aunt, making Jordan protective?
Leah’s scheduled move back to her own space had been meant to herald more of the planet-tilting sex they’d shared in their all-too-brief bout of privacy. Under the guise of stepping up his fitness regime he’d planned to ask if Curtis could hang out with Jordan and Natasha under Alister’s supervision some evenings while Ronan took a ‘late night run’ … that would lead discreetly to the annexe and Leah’s bed.
Now that bed was Alister’s–
His phone beeped a text alert.
Leah: Sorry. Had to stop WWIII between Natasha and Jordan. Kids! Argh! x
Ronan: They get over it. Will I see you tomorrow? x
Leah: Expect I’ll be local. It would be odd to take the kids out and leave Alister now he’s finally out of hospital. x
Leah: Not being free to do as I want sucks, by the way. Totally sucks. Not what I signed up for. How do you cope with parenthood 24/7? I like to be the freest of free agents, the singlest of single women. x
Ronan drained his coffee and reread this last exchange, cold dismay settling around his heart. Was Leah beginning to see the discrepancy in their situations as insurmountable?
Here in France, Ronan was effectively a single parent. Whatever strictures it placed on his liberty, he wouldn’t dream of cutting a thirteen-year-old loose, other than a bit of freedom within the boundaries of the village.
‘Single parent’ was an oxymoron, because parents never had the luxury of being single. It sounded as if Leah might already be shying away from that.
Restlessly, he jumped up to prowl around the room. Maybe it would be for the best. Hell, he’d already caught himself thinking about what it would be like if they were back in the UK. It would be wise, he admitted to himself as he dumped his empty cup in the sink and switched off the lights, to just smile whenever he remembered that hour in the annexe and accept that it was yet another one-time thing. Pushing for more was madness when Leah liked to fly free, and the only good thing he’d taken from his last relationship was a child who had first call on his time.
His resolve lasted for an hour. Until the next text message.
Leah: I like to sleep naked. x
The reply flew from his fingers.
Ronan: I’d like to sleep naked with you. x
Natasha burst into the kitchen the next morning when Leah was awarding herself a leisurely start to the morning after staying awake late to exchange increasingly heated texts with Ronan.
‘Can we stay here today cos of not leaving Dad alone?’
Leah filled her mug with coal-black coffee from the filter jug then added enough milk so that she could drink the first cup straight down. ‘Good plan. Almost the only place we’ve been lately is the hospital, anyway.’
Natasha assumed her wheedling voice. ‘And can we invite Curtis for lunch? I’ll make the meal if it’s a lot of trouble for you.’
‘OK,’ said Leah, easily. ‘You’d better include Curtis’s dad. It would be rude to leave him home alone.’ How easy it was to be co-operative when what was asked happened to be exactly what she wanted.
Natasha paused, giving her aunt a look that suggested she expected to have to be more persuasive than that. ‘You could help me.’
‘Maybe,’ Leah teased as she prepared to carry her second coffee out into the garden and the inviting early sunshine.
‘I’ll text Curtis.’ Natasha skipped from the room.
For once the morning idled by without a schedule. Temperatures soared towards the heatwave mark and Alister chose a shady garden lounger as his day bed, his leg cradled by fat pillows. Once an hour he rose gingerly, threaded his arms through his crutches and hopped around for five minutes before lowering himself, equally gingerly, back to the horizontal.
Natasha and Jordan, perhaps reassured by their dad’s return, sprawled on the grass without arguing, making frequent forays into the kitchen for cold drinks and ice-lollies. Pretty soon Curtis ambled into the garden, hands tucked in the huge side pockets of voluminous black cargo shorts. He flopped down beside Natasha, mumbling in Leah’s direction, ‘Yes, please, for lunch, me and Dad, fanks.’
‘OK.’ With a feeling of wellbeing that had been noticeably absent so far this holiday, Leah prepared to laze in the sun and catch up with the Formula 1 news on her iPad, listening to the distinctive whine of an electric sander at work at Chez Shea. She pictured Ronan guiding the machine back and forth as its voice rose and fell. He was probably wearing the shoulder brace under his T-shirt. Or maybe he’d discarded the T-shirt altogether in the heat. The mental image made it hard to concentrate.
Just as she was considering making an excuse to go and see for herself, the sander fell silent. Glancing at her watch she realised it was nearly one. ‘So what are we having for lunch, Natasha?’
Natasha looked around with an expression of alarm at being held to her earlier offer. ‘What’ve we got?’
‘Salad,’ Jordan guessed resignedly.
‘Chocolate cake, ice cream and crisps,’ Curtis suggested hopefully.
‘Anything that isn’t hospital food,’ Alister sighed longingly.
‘I’ll help. C’mon.’ Leah pulled Natasha to her feet and encouraged her towards the kitchen.
Curtis followed them as if he’d been asked to. ‘S’pose I have to wash my hands?’
‘You’re getting the idea.’ Leah set eggs and pasta to boil then grated a block of Parmesan cheese while Curtis and Natasha dawdled over washing tiny tomatoes and rocket leaves, Curtis making bad jokes and Natasha giggling.
Eventually, impatient at their lack of progress, Leah biffed them out of the way with her hip. ‘How about setting the table? I’ll finish up in here and bring the food out.’
They gathered up plates, cutlery and cloth with no noticeable change of pace and vanished outside, still deep in their own conversation.
Shifting up easily to her usual kitchen speed Leah grilled goat’s cheese on slices of bread and whizzed up walnut oil dressing with the stick blender. When the door reopened her attention was on tossing the pasta salad. ‘Do we need something else?’
A h
ard arm snaked around her waist. ‘There are so many things. They all involve privacy.’
Laughing, Leah turned around, capturing Ronan’s just-showered smell in her lungs. ‘Which seems unachievable.’
He held her close, their bodies nestling together as if remembering they knew each other. ‘Nothing’s unachievable if the incentive’s great enough.’
They did, at least, manage a slow and tantalising kiss before Leah freed herself to swoop on the grill pan just as the cheese turned a beautiful bubbling gold.
Regardless of the frustrations of Leah and Ronan, lunch proved to be fun. Alister sat sideways at the table, his leg and its pillows on another chair, giving great mmmms of pleasure at every bite and not even minding that he couldn’t risk being drunk in charge of a broken ankle by partaking of the red wine.
Leah, in no such danger, let the wine, warmed by the sun, trickle down her throat like nectar as she stretched out beneath the table to ‘accidentally’ brush up against Ronan. His bare leg replied by stroking slowly across hers, sending a tingling wave right through her.
‘So what’s for dessert?’ demanded Jordan, smacking his lips as his last mouthful disappeared. ‘I could make ice cream sundaes.’
‘Yay!’ Natasha cried.
Leah wrinkled her nose. ‘Last time Jordan made sundaes it involved four types of ice cream, squirty cream, broken biscuits and chocolate sauce. Everyone felt sick.’
‘Maybe you could make a nice fruit salad.’ Ronan’s leg came to rest against Leah’s once more.
‘Yuck,’ said Jordan.
Alister laughed. ‘I’m not sure “nice” is a word he’d use in connection with fruit salad–’ But the rest of the sentence died in his throat. He stared in the direction of the house with such a flabbergasted expression that everyone twisted in their chairs to follow his sightline.
Natasha was the first to react, sending her chair and a glass of lemonade flying as she leaped up to race across the grass, arms outspread, shouting joyfully.
‘MUM! You’re back, you’re back!’
Chapter Fifteen
It was a wan and gaunt Michele who opened her arms to receive her younger child. ‘Darling! Sorry I didn’t make it straight back. I came as soon as I could.’
Just for the Holidays Page 18