Just for the Holidays

by Sue Moorcroft

  ‘Crap.’ Jordan slammed the bottle down on the counter so hard that bubbles frothed to the top.

  ‘Poor Leah,’ mourned Natasha. ‘I think she really liked him.’

  ‘I thought he liked her, too,’ Jordan maintained. ‘You agreed, Curtis.’

  Curtis shrugged. The idea of his parents being together was taking proper shape in his mind and his heart was hopping at the idea of being a family again. ‘I must’ve got it wrong. It’s going to be amazing. No more trying to remember which house I’m supposed to be going to after school, no more wanting stuff that’s at Dad’s house when I’m at Mum’s or at Mum’s house when I’m at Dad’s. No more stepdad and stepfamily. No more …’ He struggled for words that would adequately express his joy. ‘No more shit ache!’

  ‘Well jel,’ said Natasha, in a tiny voice. And burst into tears.

  ‘Curtis, you arse.’ Jordan put his arm around his sister.

  Astonished, Curtis looked from the heaving shoulders of one to the grim scowl of the other. ‘What? Why are you crying, Natasha?’ He knew Jordan was Natasha’s brother but if anybody in the room should be hugging her, shouldn’t it be Curtis? He even took a step towards her, preparing to sidle in and take over.

  Jordan’s scowl turned to a snarl. ‘Just piss off and play happy families. You don’t have to ram it down our throats. I thought you were meant to be “with” Natasha? Why’d you upset her?’

  A nasty little pin of remorse began to threaten Curtis’s bubble. ‘I wasn’t! I was just saying.’

  Natasha began to wail. ‘But you’ve been spouting off about parents splitting up being OK when you got use-used to it! Double Christmas and two holi-holidays!’

  ‘Oh.’ Curtis saw suddenly that boasting about his parents getting back together might not be fun for others who weren’t so fortunate. ‘It sort of is OK … and I am going to miss double Christmas … though not having three parents to buy for rather than two,’ he added, honestly.

  Natasha cried harder than ever and Jordan wrapped his other arm around her. ‘Just get lost, Mr Shit Ache. Go check your mum hasn’t run off with a new man.’

  ‘At least I know who my mum ran off with!’ Ashamed, angry, mortified, Curtis turned and stormed from the room.

  Natasha and Jordan really knew how to spoil a good mood.

  Leah had settled down for a couple of consoling glasses of wine with Scott when a red-faced Curtis burst into the kitchen, stalked through the back door and slammed out of the gîte.

  ‘It’s all going on in your family,’ Scott observed, drily.

  Leah sighed. ‘I suppose I ought to go up and see what’s happened.’

  ‘Shouldn’t Michele?’

  ‘You’d think so.’ Leah cocked an ear in the hope of catching the sound of Michele emerging from her room. Instead, she heard a sniffling snuffling approach down the stairs. Then Natasha crept in, woebegone and pink-eyed.

  Leah opened her arms and Natasha flew to her, straddled her lap as if she were still small and buried her face wetly in Leah’s neck. Leah hugged her close. ‘Had a row with Curtis?’

  ‘No.’ Sniff. ‘Jordan did.’

  ‘What happened?’ Leah’s hand made comforting circles on Natasha’s thin back.

  Sniff. ‘Jordan told Curtis to pee off. And Curtis did.’

  Lifted out of her own misery, Leah tried to fill in the blanks. ‘You’re upset because they rowed?’

  Natasha shook her head. ‘No. Because Curtis’s mum and dad are back together.’

  ‘Right.’ Leah rested her cheek on Natasha’s hair. She couldn’t tell Natasha not to cry over that. She might do it herself.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Tuesday morning saw Ronan staring at his laptop screen, reading about homes being repossessed. He was desperately seeking some hint that Selina hadn’t done exactly the wrong thing by handing over her house to her lender without seeking advice or applying for help as homeless – although he wasn’t sure he could live with thinking of her living in a hostel, and he would gnaw his own head off before seeing Curtis in a place like that.

  But that hadn’t happened, had it? Because Selina had handled the situation in typical fashion: run to someone else and expect help.

  As he read, a conversation he’d had with Selina last night swam through his head. ‘But they’re selling the house,’ she’d argued with Ronan. ‘I couldn’t sell it myself because it would have meant waiting for Darren to surface.’

  He’d tried not to frighten her too much. ‘But can they sell it without Darren?’

  She’d looked uncertain. ‘They said something about court.’

  ‘What happens if they sell for less than you owe?’

  Her hands had tightened to fists. ‘That would be morally wrong.’ It had been distressingly plain how little idea she had about responsibility for residual debt.

  ‘But what if they do?’

  Selina had burst into tears and run up to her room. No, not her room, he’d told himself as he prepared to follow and encourage her to return to the conversation. It was the spare room. Selina had no room in this house. He’d tried to quiet the voice of his conscience that whispered … or any house.

  Then Curtis had made that difficult by skulking in, frowning ferociously and uttering only grunts and monosyllables before banging the door to his room.

  Ronan had resorted to putting on his running shoes and getting the hell out into the velvet evening just turning dark, but all jogging around the village had achieved was to send him to bed tired but unable to sleep for the pounding of his shoulder even though he’d popped pain pills. And now, this morning, he was too tired to think his way out of this nightmare.

  He crossed the landing to Curtis’s bedroom door and knocked, looking contemplatively at the spare room from which Selina had not emerged this morning.

  ‘What’s up?’ shouted Curtis, from within.

  ‘You OK?’ Ronan poked his head into Curtis’s room. The curtains were still shut, the room dim and musty.

  Curtis lay in bed, laptop propped on his knees, a games controller in his hands. ‘Yep.’ He didn’t look up.

  ‘Breakfast?’

  ‘Not yet, fanks.’

  ‘You didn’t stay out long last night.’

  Curtis shook his head, thumbs busy on the controller, eyes still fixed to the laptop screen.

  ‘Can you pause that a minute, please?’

  With a barely concealed sigh, Curtis did so. ‘What?’

  ‘I got the feeling you were upset.’

  A shrug.

  ‘Were you?’

  He shrugged again. Then, ‘I sort of upset Natasha and Jordan had a go at me.’

  ‘Ah, right.’ Ronan moved properly into the room. ‘Want to talk about it?’

  ‘Nope. I text Natasha this morning and said sorry.’

  ‘Right,’ Ronan repeated. Curtis didn’t tell him Natasha’s reaction and Ronan instinctively shied from asking. Curtis was growing up, forming some kind of relationship with a girl. Ronan loved Curtis no less than when he’d been a helpless baby but Curtis was making it obvious that things were different now. He wasn’t helpless and he was entitled to some control over his own life. ‘You know where I am if you want me,’ Ronan said, eventually.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, fanks.’ Curtis turned back to his laptop with obvious relief.

  Back in his bedroom, Ronan glanced restlessly out of the window. And paused. Leah was in the garden of the gîte, hanging out washing. In fifteen seconds, Ronan was letting himself out of his back door.

  ‘Morning,’ he said, from his own side of the fence.

  Leah turned briefly with a cool greeting then returned to her task. She was wearing shorts with a fringed hem, the silky strands shifting to give tantalising hints of her skin beneath.

  Ronan refused to let himself be dismissed. He vaulted the fence and closed the distance between them. ‘I owe you an apology.’

  She didn’t pause, just took a damp garment from the basket, shook it, pegged
it to the line. ‘Don’t bother.’ Garment, shake, peg.

  ‘I want to explain–’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it.’ Garment, shake, peg.

  He thought he could detect tears in her eyes but it was hard to be sure when she was so studiously refusing to look at him. Nonplussed, he tried to find another route around the barriers she’d thrown up. ‘Curtis seems to think he’s upset Natasha.’

  Leah grabbed a blue shirt and stepped along to an unused stretch of washing line. ‘I suggest you share any concerns you might have with Natasha’s parents.’ Then she left the rest of the washing lying in the basket and whisked away indoors, snapping the door shut behind her.

  Ronan was still staring blankly at it when he caught a movement from the corner of his eye. Scott was unfolding himself from a lounger and heading straight in Ronan’s direction.

  ‘Oh, great, did you get all that?’ Ronan asked, tiredly.

  Scott sauntered closer, hands in pockets. ‘Haven’t you done enough, sending your son round last night to break the news that you’re back with your wife? Till then, I think Leah may have had the impression that you cared for her.’

  Dismay struck coldly into Ronan’s gut. He cursed himself for not foreseeing that Curtis would seize only on Selina’s manipulative words and lose no time in making it seem real by talking about it. ‘I didn’t sent him round with that message because I’m not back with my ex-wife.’

  ‘Yeah. That’s what they all say.’

  Anger bloomed in Ronan’s chest and he switched his attention from the closed door to Scott’s cold gaze. ‘I am not married. That’s the big difference between me and Leah’s old boyfriend. Tommy.’

  ‘Difference between crooks and thieves from where I’m standing.’

  Ronan’s breath hissed between his teeth. ‘Why don’t you butt out?’

  Scott edged right into his space. ‘Because I want what’s best for Leah and you’re not it.’

  Ronan struck blindly back. ‘Neither are you. She only thinks of you as a friend.’

  Scott’s expression didn’t alter. ‘Best thing for her. Anything more would hardly be fair.’ He hesitated, hunching his shoulders. ‘Leah’s probably already mentioned that I’m bisexual. Some of us find it hard to be faithful to one gender when we’re attracted to both. You can read all about it on the Internet.’

  Ronan paused, feeling a reluctant respect for honesty from someone with so much sadness in his eyes. ‘If you mean you’re prepared to do what’s best for Leah even at your own expense and I should do the same–’ Then he forgot Scott as the door reopened.

  Paralysed, he watched Leah approach, her hair blowing, her face composed. She held his gaze until she halted in front of him.

  He tried to jump in. ‘I only asked you to invite Curtis here so I could have a row with Selina–’

  She held up both hands. ‘It’s rude of me not to listen but you need to face facts. Whatever you think the situation is between you and Selina, Curtis thinks you’re likely to get back together. She’s living in your house and Curtis is thrilled. That’s a mess I don’t want to step in. Let’s part on good terms.’ Then she tiptoed up and kissed him impersonally on the cheek and turned and vanished back indoors without a backward glance.

  Ronan stood frozen to the spot for several seconds as grief and outrage warred in him with the echo of what he’d just said to Scott … to do what’s best for Leah, even at your own expense … Finally, he met Scott’s contemplative gaze. ‘Look after her for me,’ he mumbled, his heart the only part of him that wasn’t numb.

  ‘I always look after her – but not for you. Bye, fly boy.’

  Leah stood back from the kitchen window so that Ronan wouldn’t see her watching him. The slump of his shoulders as he slowly turned and moved out of sight made her let go of a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

  From the armchair Alister sighed. ‘I feel I ought to congratulate you on doing the right thing but you don’t look as if you enjoyed it.’

  ‘Not much.’ She glanced around at the rest of her audience, all frozen in place like one of those games where a whistle blows and the action halts. Michele and both kids were gazing at her with expressions that dragged at her heart. ‘Well,’ she said brightly, because if she acknowledged the compassion in their hearts she’d burst into tears. ‘I’ll finish hanging out the washing and drag Scott from his sun bed, then we can get off to the water park.’

  ‘Will that be OK?’ Natasha looked at Leah as if worried her aunt might disintegrate if called upon to whizz down a slide.

  ‘You bet! The grown-ups can sit in the shade while we have fun.’ Leah paused, her hand on the door handle. ‘I don’t think we can invite Curtis, though. With your dad’s leg up on a seat, we won’t have room.’

  Natasha studied her fingernails. ‘That’s OK.’

  The planned brownie baking had never come to fruition but the kids made do with bretzels from the water park snack bar while Alister and Michele, who’d found a way of co-existing lately without exchanging barbed comments, claimed an umbrella and loungers in red and yellow.

  Jordan and Natasha bore Leah and Scott off to whoosh down the corkscrew maze of turquoise waterslides with screams of joy. Though they all laughed, though the sun beat down to offset the exhilarating rushes through chilly water, Leah was aware of both Jordan and Natasha being quieter than usual, glancing over at their parents on the loungers as if checking they were still there. Michele read, her magazine resting on the growing mound of her tummy. Alister worked on his laptop, probably on one of his interminable spreadsheets, exchanging the occasional word with Michele and even making her smile.

  ‘I’m exhausted,’ Natasha said, suddenly. ‘I’m going to lie on a lounger.’

  Jordan fell into step beside her and they edged between sunbathers around the frothing splash-down pool until they reached the patch the Miltons had made their own.

  Leah felt the water drying on her skin as she watched them grab their towels and pour drinks, the last vestiges of family unity clinging to their actions. ‘I think we’re surplus to requirements.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Scott fished in the waist of his swimming trunks and pulled out a twenty-euro note. ‘It’s a bit soggy but I’m sure they’ll take it at the bar.’

  While Scott bought the drinks, Leah secured a couple of tall stools at a counter facing the pool, propped her chin on her hand and watched Michele towelling Natasha’s hair and Jordan craning to see something on his dad’s laptop screen.

  ‘Bloody shame about your sister’s crowd.’ Scott plonked a bottle of Fischer in front of Leah and hitched his backside onto his stool. ‘Do you think there’s any chance of them getting back together? They just look like any other nice family enjoying their holiday.’

  Leah sighed. ‘Maybe if Michele wasn’t having a baby by another man. I just don’t think Alister … could.’

  ‘Yeah. Hard to take on someone else’s kid.’ Swigging from his beer and smacking his lips, Scott nudged her. ‘You doing OK?’

  She nodded and took a swallow of beer. ‘Just unsettled. I’ve had an email from Chocs-a-million’s HR department setting up my orientation, my first-day meetings with my boss and my team, asking my size for chef whites and arranging for my electronic pass to get around the facility. I’m ready for this so-called holiday to be over.’ And to be where she couldn’t fall over Ronan at any moment; see his smile, hear his voice. Lock gazes with him.

  Loyally, Scott responded only to what she said out loud. ‘Get you and your posh new job. Bet you can’t wait?’

  Leah felt a fresh twist of homesickness. ‘Really excited.’ She could hear a distinct lack of excitement in her voice. ‘Only a few more days before we begin the long trek home. Can’t wait to see everyone down the Chequered Flag.’ She took several long pulls of her beer.

  Scott squeezed her hand gently. ‘You’ll feel better at home, Leah.’

  Leah nodded, blinking furiously, thanking her lucky stars for a friend who always h
ad her best interests at heart, and always understood how she was feeling. ‘It’s the first F1 race after the summer break this weekend. We can get it on pay TV on my computer.’

  ‘I always like the second half of the season when the championship begins to hot up.’ And they fell to talking about who was likely to drive for McLaren next season and whether Williams could qualify a car on pole position this year.

  It was a couple of hours before they rejoined the others. Alister, although he’d been seated with his leg up all afternoon, was becoming pale and cranky and was desperate to go to bed for an hour with his favourite painkillers and a book.

  ‘I’ll bring The Pig up to the entrance.’ Leah threw her dress on over her costume.

  So Scott and Jordan helped Alister into the rear-most seats with his leg propped up in the middle row for the drive back to Kirchhoffen. A full load of passengers did nothing to enhance The Pig’s performance. ‘It’d go better if we cut holes in the floor and ran, like the Flintstones,’ Scott scoffed, to wind Michele up.

  ‘But we wouldn’t get seven people in yours and Leah’s pose-mobiles, would we?’ retorted Michele as they drew up in the drive.

  Scott wasn’t going to stand for slurs on his current ‘pose-mobile’, a lime-green Focus, and they bickered amiably as the car began to empty. Scott and Jordan helped Alister, and Michele put out a hand to catch the door as it tried to blow shut on his injured leg.

  It was almost – but not quite – as if things were going to be OK, Leah thought, as Alister smiled and thanked Michele for her help.

  And that was when a shadow detached itself from the shrubs at the front of the house and took on man form.

  Michele gave a little ‘Oh!’ of surprise.

  Leah halted in horror.

  But it was Jordan who gave voice to the collective astonishment. ‘Bailey? What are you doing here?’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Leah looked on with a sickening feeling of inevitability. No bright smile and plan to make cake would distract the kids from the horror show she could see was about to unfold.