‘It’s the blue room,’ Victoria said. ‘But check over the whole place.’
Chris relocated to the large chair, nestled in, and gazed out across the gardens.
Victoria could guess where his thoughts were. She was learning to read him too. ‘I saw it,’ she said. ‘Rick’s leap of understanding.’
‘Yeah.’ The leather creaked as Chris adjusted his position. ‘But I want him to be happy for his own sake, not mine. Been there, done that. Didn’t work out. Why didn’t he say anything?’
‘Give him time. He’s processing it.’ Victoria stretched out her legs, rubbed her thighs, and stood. ‘You’ve got yourself a thinker.’ She ran her hand along the smooth surface of the oak table. She could be seated there tomorrow, eating lunch. ‘And two lodgers.’
Victoria starfished on her single bed. Her jeans ruffled and creased the duvet and her arms and feet hung over the sides, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t an inflatable mattress, it wasn’t a sofa, and it wasn’t situated in her dad’s living room. It was a proper, bona fide, wooden bed, with linen sheets, a headboard and springs that didn’t eject her at every breath.
The move had gone well. Not that there was much to move; it was the explaining to her father that took the time. He wasn’t against the idea per se, but he was concerned for Seth, worried he would confuse Victoria’s friendship with Chris for something more.
‘He’s four, Dad. He doesn’t think like that,’ Victoria had said.
‘I don’t know. I remember you at that age. You had some peculiar ideas about the world.’
‘I still do. That’s nature, not nurture.’ She wrapped her arms around her father and gave him a squeeze. ‘You’ll get your bungalow back, Seth gets a bigger room, and I’ll get a decent night’s sleep. It’s been great here, but it wasn’t meant to be long term.’
‘It hasn’t even been short term,’ Frank grumbled.
‘It’s been two months. That’s long enough on an air bed.’
Olivia was the one who pointed out the upside to an empty living room. Pun intended, she’d said.
Victoria grinned. Life was full of surprises.
She was startled by ringing coming from under the bed. She flipped onto her stomach, lifted the edge of the duvet, and located the phone. She grabbed it, hauled it onto the pillow, and picked up the handset. It had to be her father, he was the only one she’d passed Chris’s number to. ‘Hi, Dad.’
‘Victoria, it’s me.’
‘Joo!’ Victoria scrambled up the bed, made herself comfortable, and rested against the headboard. ‘Dad didn’t hang about getting my details to you. I was going to call you later.’
‘Rewind, Victoria. The last I heard, you were staying at Dad’s.’
‘Chris and I are helping each other out, that’s all. There’s nothing going on. We’re not even sharing the same living space.’ She browsed around the room. ‘Not technically. Seth and I are in an annexe.’ She’d had this discussion the night before with her dad. ‘Why am I justifying it to you?’
She heard Juliette laugh. ‘I have no idea, but good on you. How is Seth?’
‘He’s doing all right. I’m still making mistakes, but I’m beginning to understand him.’
‘Have you read that info I printed off?’
‘Most of it. I need to go through it again, though. I’ve had to cross-reference a million medical terms to gain a decent understanding. I did read something the other day that made sense. If your child has the disorder, telling him you love him isn’t enough. It’s an alien concept. He needs something tangible. Seth needs to know I’m here for him, and that he always has a home.’ She paused. ‘Okay, that second one’s been a little less tangible of late, but once we’ve been here a while, he’ll grasp the idea.’
‘That’s excellent. You sound so relaxed. And optimistic. It’s brilliant. The Dorset air suits you.’
Victoria could hear the genuine joy in her sister’s voice, which at once pleased and troubled her. ‘I’m sorry I left you in the lurch. How’s it going? Any comeback from the Tiresome Trio?’
‘Nothing. And the board is so much better for their departure.’
‘Thank goodness for Annabel.’ Victoria owed her friend a huge debt of gratitude. ‘She pulled out all the stops. What a business brain.’
Juliette concurred. ‘She did amazingly well. She’s still helping me out. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Why would I mind?’ If it took the pressure off Juliette, it was a great idea. ‘I should think Anna’s agent has a few things to say about it, though.’
‘Oh, she’s dealt with him.’ Juliette laughed. ‘She’s been a godsend.’
A splinter of a thought embedded itself in Victoria’s brain. ‘Is she enjoying it?’
‘She’s in her element. She said if she never saw an arena again it would be too soon. I think she’s here for the coffee.’ Juliette’s chuckle travelled down the line. ‘She’s got her tour in less than two months and she’s dreading it. She’s threatened to cancel. Her agent’s on the phone five times a day about it. Or he was, until she told him if he bothered her again this week, she’d sue him for harassment.’
Victoria belly-laughed. ‘That sounds like Annabel.’
‘Of course, she couldn’t sue him,’ Juliette continued, ‘but he got the gist of her message.’
‘Juliette?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, with an obvious air of suspicion. ‘I know that tone. What are you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking the solution to our problems is right under our nose.’
‘I don’t have a problem.’ Juliette seemed insulted by the suggestion.
‘Yes you do,’ Victoria said. ‘With me stepping back from EweSpeak, you’re overworked.’
‘Not now Anna’s here.’
‘But she’s off to – how did she put it? – sing songs that should be consigned to the bargain bins? She said it herself, she’s ready for a change; a new challenge. She’d make a great business partner.’ Victoria hesitated, trying to find a gentle method of dropping a bombshell. Apart from raiding a cotton wool factory and stuffing the swag under Juliette, there wasn’t one. ‘And I’m ready to step down.’
There was a pensive silence, as Juliette’s breath ebbed and flowed in and out of Victoria’s earpiece. ‘I think it’s the right decision,’ Juliette eventually said.
‘You do?’ With the relief of hearing her sister’s words, Victoria sunk into the bed. Until that moment, she had no idea if leaving EweSpeak was a good or bad move. The company was in her blood; it defined her. It made her who she was, but destroyed who she should have been. It was her means of escape, yet it imprisoned her. It provided comfort, but delivered pain.
It had given plenty, but taken so much more.
‘Victoria?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ll let you know what Annabel says. Victoria?’
‘Yes?’
‘Annabel says what took you so effing long?’
An hour later, standing in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil, Victoria reflected on the telephone conversation. Things couldn’t have worked out better had she planned them. She’d spent so long closed off in her logical, well-ordered universe, it was hard to believe in ethereal forces, but Annabel’s timely appearance caused Victoria to re-evaluate her ideas on fate. People made their own luck – it was a well-known adage, and one she promoted at EweSpeak – but recent experience suggested coincidences had their place.
It was agreed between the three women that before retiring from the world of high heels and microphones, to enter the corporate domain of suits, boots and dictaphones, Annabel should honour her commitment to her fans in Japan.
‘That way you have a few weeks’ trial period, and time to reconsider,’ Victoria said.
‘I won’t change m
y mind,’ Annabel replied. ‘This is the new start I’ve been crying out for. I just need somewhere in London to call my own. How about I rent your apartment until I find something? It gets me out of the hotel and I can send your stuff on.’
‘Saves the place from being empty,’ Victoria said. It was a good plan. ‘Okay. Be selective in what you send, though. My mobile, a suitcase of clothes, a few of Seth’s books and toys.’
‘That’s all you want?’
‘Yes. I’m sticking to my back to basics philosophy.’
Annabel had laughed, unconvinced residing in a castle fell within the definition.
Victoria opened the cupboard and pulled out the powdered soups. The box was squashed, the colours faded, and the packets inside were solid. If Annabel could see me now, she thought. I’m traumatised by the use-by date. The candles were more appealing. Thank goodness she’d placed a grocery order online.
She’d sorted Chris’s computer and established an Internet connection first thing, much to Rick’s pleasure. The setting up had taken a little longer than anticipated as Chris had asked Victoria to install remote access software, and give the PC a once-over.
‘Please, Victoria,’ he’d said. ‘I’m hopeless with technology. It doesn’t stand a chance in my hands. I swear, if the bloody thing goes wrong again, it’ll end up in the sea. Rick says with the right software you can fix it, even if you were on the other side of the world.’
It was true. She could.
She threw the soup box in the bin, closed the cupboard, and glanced through the window. Despite Rick’s face illuminating the living room at the prospect of accessing the World Wide Web, he was outside with Seth, cleaning a bicycle. Seth was listening and taking instruction with the utmost diligence, which was remarkable following his weekend of significant change. Whatever magic Rick was casting, Victoria hoped the spell appeared in her research. Time to trawl though it again.
Without further ado, she grabbed Juliette’s printouts from the bedroom and bustled into the castle’s kitchen.
‘Whoa!’ Chris lurched back in surprise. ‘Steady on. Where’s the fire?’
Victoria hugged the paperwork to her body. ‘No fire, but lots of reading to do.’
Chris tapped the documents. ‘Is this for work?’
Hmm. That thorny subject. ‘No. This is information on how I can help Seth.’
‘With what?’ Chris helped himself to a biscuit, and held the jar for Victoria. They ate without speaking, until each had finished.
‘With his temper, mainly,’ Victoria said, flopping the heavy bundle of sheets onto the worktop. She reached into the jar for another biscuit. ‘Olivia thinks he may have child attachment disorder.’
Chris raised an index finger. ‘Is this to do with him lashing out?’
‘Yes. And I need to find a way to fix it.’
Having brushed his hands together, Chris reached for two mugs. ‘Coffee? I have instant at the moment.’
‘Instant’s fine, thanks.’
‘So, is this a health issue?’
‘Drinking instant? Should be, but my body’s adapted.’ Victoria smiled. In the time she’d spent at her dad’s she’d acquired a taste for caffeine-filled granules. ‘It’s amazing how quickly one becomes used to something.’
Chris shoved the kettle under the tap, and turned the water on. It ran at full force. He muttered under his breath as the splashback caught his face. ‘Stupid faucet. It either drizzles or it cascades. There’s no bloody in between.’ He knocked the tap to off.
‘Like Seth,’ Victoria said, handing Chris a towel. ‘He’s either charming and compliant, or stubborn and hurling abuse.’
‘He’s such a little thing.’ Chris’s voice was muffled by the towel, as he dried his face. ‘It’s hard to imagine.’
Victoria stiffened. ‘You don’t believe me?’
The towel was whipped away and thrown onto the draining board. ‘You jumped in before I’d finished. I was about to say, it’s hard to imagine, but I saw him yesterday, when you were asking him about moving in here.’
‘Staying here,’ she corrected.
‘Staying here.’ Chris closed his eyes for a second. ‘It’s the same thing. Anyway, Seth was like an unexploded bomb.’
‘It’s not the same thing.’ At first, Victoria hadn’t been sure what to call it – staying, holidaying, living – but they hadn’t moved in. Seth needed to feel secure but she didn’t want him misunderstanding their relationship with the Framptons. ‘This is a temporary solution, for which I am very grateful, but we have not moved in. I need this to be explicit. Seth needs to understand we are staying. As if we were on holiday.’ She picked up the towel, folded it in half, and returned it to its rail. ‘This coffee isn’t very instant.’
‘I’m getting there.’ Chris pulled a face, his molasses eyes spreading to their widest point. ‘Milk’s in the refrigerator, Mrs Noble.’
Fair enough. Unlike her kitchen in London, where all the white goods were camouflaged as matching cupboards, Chris’s fridge stood tall and proud. And silver. ‘Nice feature.’ Her sarcasm was obvious. ‘And yes. Seth is like an unexploded bomb,’ she said, attempting to get back to the point. ‘Anything can trigger him.’ She passed the milk to Chris, and he added a drop to each of the mugs. ‘Usually it’s a change to his routine.’
Victoria took a teaspoon from the counter and mixed the milk into her coffee. ‘All things considered, he’s coped admirably this week. I think Rick’s had a hand in that.’ She checked to see if Chris was listening, but he appeared to be hypnotised by the swirls in his drink. Wherever he was, he wasn’t in that kitchen.
She watched him, curious, wondering what had taken him so deep inside his own head. His pallor suggested the impact of having a woman and a child in his house had finally hit him. ‘I’m sorry. I should have told you this before. I’ll understand if you’d rather not have us here.’
Chris snapped out of his reverie and rubbed his eyes. ‘What did you say?’
Victoria could see he was in desperate need of comfort, but she didn’t understand why, and knew better than to make the approach. She clasped her hands around her mug, deciding they were safer there. The shame of it was, she was used to not providing solace. Years of living in a virtual world had that effect. ‘I said I’m sorry.’ A pause. ‘Are you all right?’
Chris sipped his coffee. ‘Yeah. I’m fine. I was thinking.’ He turned round, leaned against the cupboard and closed his eyes. ‘And it’s given me a headache.’ He pressed his fingers into his forehead and massaged his temple with his thumbs. ‘Seth’s not a problem,’ he said, easing open his eyes. ‘And I’ll help in any way I can. Will you excuse me?’ He stood upright, took his mug, and left the room.
Chapter Twenty
With her coffee in one hand, the wad of printouts in the other, and Chris seeking peace in the conservatory, Victoria settled in the living room. The blood-red leather sofa, while a little gauche for her taste, was sinfully comfortable. She understood money didn’t buy everything, but there was no denying indulgence had a price.
She set her coffee on the oak side table, and studied the top sheet of paper. Between the search she did at her father’s place and Juliette’s findings on child attachment disorder, the World Wide Web had plenty of information caught in its threads.
As Victoria thumbed through the thick pile, a page decorated with diagrams caught her eye. She’d not noticed it before. She pulled the sheet free and examined the pictures. It was hard to see how it related to the disorder, but if Juliette had included it, there would be a reason. Victoria read the caption under the pictures. ‘By following a simple set of exercises, your body and mind will be free from stress. My new regime will help you achieve deep relaxation, muscle tone, and pain relief.’ She flipped over the page, and on the reverse was a link to a step-by-step YouTube video.
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br /> She put the papers on the couch, and scanned the room for the remote control. It was half buried in an armchair. Victoria extricated herself from the sofa, retrieved the handset, and switched on the enormous wall TV. She found the Internet connection, clicked on the YouTube application, and searched for the link. It advised it was a thirty minute video on the origins and purpose of the exercises, with a How To guide at the end. Returning to the sofa, Victoria reclaimed her coffee, swung her legs round onto the seat, and watched.
Everything its presenter said made sense. Victoria had experienced enough anxiety and stress in her lifetime to know her core suffered from its effects, and if she felt it, Seth must too. His anger and resentment, tightly balled in his stomach, grew larger by the day, as layer after layer of bitterness wrapped around it. A release was necessary, and according to the testimonies on the video, these exercises were the way forward.
After twenty minutes of total absorption in the theory, Victoria placed her cold mug of coffee on the table, and stood up. It was time to try the drills for herself. She scanned the room to ensure she was alone, brushed her hair from her eyes, and then spread her feet apart. The calming voice on the TV assured her there was nothing to fear and she should ‘relax into the exercises and go with it’. On the previous two occasions when she’d done just that, Chris moved away, and Ben made her pregnant. Well, neither man was present now, and she was fully clothed. No harm could come of a simple workout.
She stuck to the instructions, bending, rolling and stretching in turn, and took a deep breath each time the video prompted. She was concentrating so hard, relaxing was proving difficult, but the conscious part of her brain told her she was doing something worthwhile. She hoped the unconscious part agreed, and that she wouldn’t suffer too many aches and pains the next day.
‘Next, you’re going to stretch your legs apart, touch the floor with your hands and send them across to one foot. Like this.’ The model on the video demonstrated. ‘Breathe, then move your hands to the other foot.’
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