by Mandy Baggot
She tutted and shook her head, eyes moving away from him as if finding the patterned wallpaper far more interesting. Disinterest, he’d long since decided, was better than hissing and scratching.
‘Listen, Brooke … now, I’m sure this isn’t true but … your mom is concerned.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Just tell me, reassure me, that you didn’t eat a sachet of salt live on Instagram.’
He had worded that all wrong. He hadn’t followed his own carefully built plan. He had made it sound like her licking sodium was oddball behaviour. He should have come at it from a more understanding angle. Perhaps all was not lost if he jumped in again quickly.
‘I mean … if you did then, okay, but you need to know that salt isn’t good for you, honey.’
‘What are you now? Some sort of health advisory service?’
‘Brooke—’
‘For God’s sake it was a tiny sachet. There was this new hashtag called #freakyeating and I figured I’d just join in.’ She huffed a sigh. ‘There was no need for Mom to have a haemorrhage over it or to call you.’
‘No?’ Chase asked. ‘We’re good here?’
‘I don’t wanna be here, but you know that already.’
Yes, Brooke had been making that quite clear from the moment Leanna had said she had to look after Fay.
‘I know it’s not home …’ He swallowed. Home. Home had been turned upside down for them. They were no longer in New York, had to change schools, fly to almost the other end of the country, leave friends. They didn’t even know which way was up, let alone where home was. ‘I know it’s not … where you’re used to but … it’s London.’ He nudged Brooke’s knee with his elbow. ‘London’s cool, right? Let me think … who do you like over here?’ He racked his brain, trying to work out who was ‘sick’ in his daughter’s world right now. ‘I know. How about Kate Middleton … great hair, right?’
‘So, the only cool thing you can think of is a princess?’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not Maddie.’
‘Chelsea Football Club. Now, they’re pretty neat.’
‘Not. A. Boy.’
‘Wow, Brooke, are you turning into a teenage girl stereotype right in front of me?’
‘No!’
‘Come on then,’ he teased good-naturedly. ‘Who’s cool in London right now?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
He sighed. ‘Listen, I know hanging out here wasn’t in your holiday plans but we’re here. I love it that you’re here with me and we need to make the most of it and—’
‘Not do anything to make Mom pissed?’
He opened his mouth to reprimand her for her language then thought better of it. ‘She loves you and Maddie and you’re a whole ocean away. She’s gonna worry and … that wasn’t what I was gonna say. I was gonna say we need to get along. The three of us.’
‘Happy families,’ Brooke sighed out.
‘It can be,’ Chase said.
‘But you have to work.’
Yeah, he did. For most of their trip. But that was the nature of things. Especially if Brooke wanted to keep that iPhone and all the Netflix, Spotify and countless other subscriptions that came with it, not to mention the new home in Montgomery.
‘Yeah, I have to work,’ he admitted. ‘But, they’ll give me someone to help out while I’m here. Maybe even a team of people. And you can tell them exactly what you wanna do and where you wanna go and they’ll take you.’
Brooke reached for her earphones. ‘Great.’
‘Come on, Brooke, it won’t be the whole time. I’ll find us somewhere really great to eat tomorrow night, I promise.’
His time was up. The earbuds were back in and Brooke’s eyes were back on the ceiling. He would make it up to them both once the new plans were going firmly forward and he could take his foot off the gas a little. He stood, scooping his phone up from the dressing table and checking the display. Five missed calls from Leanna’s mom’s phone and two missed calls from Leanna’s own cell. Well, she was just going to have to wait too.
Thirteen
Beaumont Square, Notting Hill
‘Isla! Isla, wake up!’
Isla’s eyes snapped open and she sat up, immediately coming-to like there was imminent danger. ‘Hannah?’ She searched the half-light for sign of her sister.
‘I’m down here,’ Hannah puffed, hand reaching out to grab hold of the bed.
‘You crawled again! You have to stop crawling!’
‘Er, not so breaking news, I can’t walk. And Ronnie’s downstairs. We forgot to bring him up last night.’
The doorbell sounded. Three light presses.
‘And that noise is why I’m here,’ Hannah said. ‘Someone’s at the door.’ She dragged herself up, arms working overtime to swing her body on to Isla’s bed.
‘Come on,’ Isla said, immediately getting out of bed and helping Hannah up. ‘Let me help.’
‘I’ve got this,’ Hannah insisted, voice straining. ‘Go and see who’s at the door.’
‘What time is it?’ Isla asked.
‘Not Christmas yet,’ Hannah offered. ‘And too cold to be out of duck feathers.’ She dragged Isla’s duvet over her.
Isla checked her watch. Five o’clock again! Was she ever going to get a full night’s sleep? Most of what she had been able to get had been interspersed with nightmares about Chase Bryan and the embarrassment she was going to have to face later. So, Mr Bryan, let me introduce your personal assistant for the duration of your stay. She’s professional, competent, capable and … practically accused you of being a child molester in front of your daughters.
‘Stay there,’ Isla ordered. ‘Do not move off that bed until I get back up here.’
‘Understood,’ Hannah answered. ‘No moving unless you call out for a SWAT team.’
She hurriedly pulled on her jumper as she left the room, rushed down six steps and skipped the seventh. The doorbell rang again, somehow sounding both urgent and hesitant.
‘I’m coming.’ Isla tried to latch the security chain. She was all fingers and thumbs this early and there seemed to be a string of gold tinsel around the latch that definitely wasn’t there when she went to bed. Finally, she managed to slip the chain on and open the door to …
‘Did I wake yous up, though?’
It was Raj and alongside him was … was that Mrs Edwards and … a cat? Isla blinked and blinked again, desperately trying to encourage her eyes to work better.
‘Raj.’ She unlatched the chain and opened the door a little wider.
‘I didn’t wanna use the key again after scaring yous yesterday but Mrs E … she’s locked out of her house, though, and I thought, while we’re waiting for the lock guys to arrive she could like, come in for tea.’ He blew out a long breath, visible in the early morning air. ‘I’m freezing my nads off out here and Mrs E …’ Raj lowered his voice. ‘She only got one of them thin old-lady nightdress things on under my coat, innit.’
It was only then that Isla noticed Raj was wearing just a Royal Mail polo shirt – thankfully trousers not shorts – and Mrs Edwards was wearing his thick uniform jacket. She looked a little pale, her grey shampoo-and-set hair unusually wild, her gnarled hands holding on to the cat for dear life.
‘Come in quick!’ Isla ordered. She understood enough about old people to know that you did not, under any circumstances, let a pensioner get too cold or too hot. Too hot usually meant fainting and too cold could lead to pneumonia … in minutes.
‘Do I need to call the SWAT team?’ Hannah’s voice carried down the stairs.
Isla touched Raj’s bare arm, her fingers retreating from the icy-to-the-touch sensation. ‘Take Mrs Edwards into the living room and get the kettle on. I’ll turn the heating on and go and get Hannah.’
‘Sweet,’ Raj replied, teeth juddering a little.
Isla pulled Hannah’s purple, fluffy fleece off the wooden pegs on the wall of the entrance way. ‘And put this on before you get hyperthermia.’
‘Do you think she’s goi
ng gaga?’ Hannah whispered, pushing the sugar pot into the gap between her leg and the side of her wheelchair for transportation purposes.
‘I don’t know,’ Isla replied. ‘You know her better than me. How was she before?’ She paused. ‘You know, before her husband died?’
‘Happier,’ Hannah admitted. ‘And not turning up on people’s doorsteps at five in the morning cuddling someone else’s cat.’
‘What?’ Isla exclaimed. ‘It isn’t hers?’
‘No, it’s the cat that arrived in the basket like a Christmas hamper. I’m almost sure of it. The one that belongs to Verity and John at number eleven.’
‘Almost sure?’ Isla queried.
‘Well, I’m pretty sure Mrs Edwards doesn’t have a cat.’
‘Pretty sure?’ Isla poured boiling water into the multicoloured spotty teapot Hannah had bought her for Christmas last year. ‘Maybe she got one after … her husband passed.’
‘No,’ Raj interrupted, appearing at the kitchen door. ‘She don’t have a cat. She used to have a dog. It hated me. Barked all high and yappy and did shits that looked like them Chelsea bun cake things.’
‘O … kay …’ Isla said, popping the lid on the teapot and passing Hannah the jug of milk.
She didn’t know why they stuffed things in the wheelchair when there was a tray she was perfectly capable of carrying through to the lounge. Except she knew Hannah liked to help and presumed it was for the same stubborn, independent reasons as the fact her sister refused to have an electric wheelchair. When she once brought up the idea, Hannah had made it sound like if she had a motorised chair she would turn twenty-five stone overnight and develop a passion for KFC. She hadn’t mentioned it again.
‘It’s number eleven’s cat, isn’t it?’ Hannah said to Raj, wheeling up to him.
‘I dunno. I deliver their post and get off their steps as soon as, innit. Always shouting about paperwork and deadlines.’ He sniffed. ‘If I was their cat I would go and live with Mrs E.’
‘Come on,’ Hannah said, passing the teapot to Raj. ‘Let’s make sure she drinks a hot cup of tea.’ She looked back to Isla. ‘There’s some tuna in the cupboard. I’m pretty sure the cat will be hungry.’
Isla checked her watch again. Almost 5.40 a.m. As much as she wanted to ensure her neighbour was safe and well she could not afford to be late today.
‘Have you seen them?’ Mrs Edwards asked, in between loud sipping of tea, the cup shaking a little in her hand.
‘Seen who, Mrs E?’ Hannah replied, petting the cat, who had fallen asleep on the old woman’s lap after having its fill of tuna.
‘The people with their measuring sticks and their cameras.’
‘The tourists?’ Raj asked. ‘I don’t think they is measuring sticks, Mrs E. They is selfie sticks. You hold them up in the air and get your whole family in it, innit.’ He held his arm out and mimicked the pose.
‘No,’ Mrs Edwards said, getting a little agitated. ‘Not the Japanese.’ She shook her head. ‘Here, in the square, not Pearl Harbor.’
Isla shared a look with Hannah. This sounded more like dementia than grief-fuelled depression. Perhaps they needed to find Mrs Edwards’ family. Did she even have any family?
‘Number eleven,’ Mrs Edwards blurted out. ‘The spies.’
‘Spies?’ Raj said, moving to the edge of his seat in the armchair and tugging at the sleeves of Hannah’s fleece that stopped halfway up his forearm. ‘Like MI5?’
‘I don’t know what they’re up to,’ Mrs Edwards breathed. ‘But I don’t trust them. If it is a them. Everyone says them but I’ve only seen a woman.’
‘Oh, Mrs Edwards, I met Verity last night,’ Isla began, putting her cup on the coffee table. ‘She was a little closed when Hannah and I invited her over for dinner, but she said she had a bad experience with cold callers where she lived before.’
Mrs Edwards tutted. ‘And you believed that one?’
Isla looked to Hannah who was hanging on Mrs Edwards’ every word, her dark, wide eyes drinking it all in like it was the beginnings of a Poirot mystery.
‘They do get a lot of brown envelopes,’ Raj informed.
‘Do they?’ Hannah exclaimed.
‘Something isn’t right,’ Mrs Edwards continued, nodding her head, tea sloshing into her saucer as she did so. ‘And … I’ve never actually seen the man.’
Isla swallowed. Was this for real? She cleared her throat. ‘His name is John.’
‘Have you seen him?’ Mrs Edwards inquired, eyes startled.
‘Well, no, but …’ Isla turned to Raj. ‘Raj has. Haven’t you, Raj?’
‘No,’ Raj answered. ‘I ain’t seen him.’
‘No, but you said you heard them arguing.’
‘True dat.’
‘But that’s the oldest trick in the book,’ Hannah pointed out. ‘Remember Home Alone? Kevin using a recording of the TV to fool people?’
‘Now, hold on, this is crazy,’ Isla began. ‘Just because they—’
‘Didn’t want to come to dinner,’ Hannah stated, beginning to count on her fingers. ‘Fake argue with voice recording software … not a sniff of Christmas in the windows of their house …’
‘They have a garland on the door,’ Isla said.
‘They have measuring sticks,’ Mrs Edwards joined in.
‘And a cat they don’t love enough.’
‘No,’ Isla said. ‘This is ridiculous. They’re new to the square and you’re turning two, probably perfectly nice, people into … into … something from The Bourne Identity.’
She looked at her watch. It was well past six now. She needed to shower and put on something special to wear. Not wedding special but one of her two good, expensive suits. Perhaps the pant suit that Hannah always said made her look like she was about to kick professional arse. And she needed to help Hannah get ready before Poppy arrived.
‘I don’t trust them,’ Mrs Edwards announced. ‘Strangers. Newcomers. Things changing.’
‘I know,’ Hannah said with a sigh. ‘I don’t like change either, Mrs E, but sometimes you just have to go with the flow.’ She patted the woman’s hand. ‘Change usually happens whether you want it to or not.’
Isla swallowed a lump in her throat. Her sister had been force-fed a whole lot of change in her twenty years. She smiled at Mrs Edwards and Hannah. ‘I’ll chase up the locksmith’s, see if we can’t get you back home. That should make you feel a bit more comfortable.’
‘Yes, dear,’ Mrs Edwards replied. ‘Because the view here …’ she shifted in her seat, eyes being drawn to the bay window. ‘Isn’t quite so extensive, and I don’t want to miss anything.’
‘Don’t you worry yourself, Mrs E. I will keep yous informed,’ Raj promised. ‘We can be like information ninjas.’
And on that note Isla made for the telephone. As soon as she settled her neighbour and saw to Hannah she could start preparing for the world of embarrassment she was about to endure at work.
Fourteen
En-route to Canary Wharf
‘This is your idea of a good time, is it?’
It was snowing. Thick, white flakes dashing through the air and settling on everything in the city. Chase was freezing and all Brooke had done since the moment she opened her eyes was be all Pink angst. He stopped walking and turned to face his daughter. Now blocking the London streets, they were being walked around, commuters rushing, steaming takeout coffees in their gloved hands, laptop bags slung across their bodies. Just to their left the sound of ‘Silver Bells’ was emanating from a store selling all manner of Christmas wrapping paper, bows and bags adorned with Santa Claus. Happy sounds and shimmery, glowing fayre that didn’t match anyone’s mood in the Bryan family.
‘Don’t be like this, Brooke,’ Chase said.
‘Like what?’ she challenged.
‘Daddy, look at that snowman!’ Maddie exclaimed, tugging at his sleeve.
Brooke sighed. ‘Grow up! That’s not a snowman. It’s just some guy in a stupid costume.’
‘Hey!’ Chase ordered his older daughter. ‘That’s enough.’
‘Why?’ Brooke asked. ‘Because you have to get to work? I just can’t wait for eight or nine hours of super-dull building talk.’
‘You mean you were actually gonna take your headphones off today?’ he snapped back.
‘Not if the whole day is gonna to be about concrete and iron.’
‘Quit it!’ Maddie begged. ‘I hate when you fight.’
He looked to his younger daughter then and wondered what the hell he was doing. There were tears in her tired-looking eyes and here he was arguing in the middle of the street. He had known this wasn’t going to be easy. Compromising with a teenager was near-on impossible but here he was.
‘Listen,’ he began, in his calmest voice. ‘I know the situation isn’t ideal …’
That comment earned him a tut and a hair flick from Brooke.
‘But, I promise, cross my heart …’ He made the necessary sign. ‘We are gonna go out tonight, somewhere real special …’
‘Can we see a show?’
He watched Maddie’s eyes light up like a dozen heavenly angels had just descended.
‘Well, I …’ Chase began. He’d been thinking more of a fancy dinner – early – because there would be much work to be done after today.
‘Oh, Daddy, the West End is like Broadway. Ellie went last summer with her aunt and uncle to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory! Maybe we could see that too!’ Maddie clapped her gloved hands together and span around in a circle, her mouse-brown hair flying out from under her hat, catching snowflakes in the air.
‘I …’ He couldn’t promise a show. He didn’t even know if you could get tickets for a show here on the same day. ‘I’ll try my best.’
‘Yay!’ Maddie answered, a little like he had just committed.
‘Okay. So …’ He looked to Brooke. ‘We’re good? Or can we at least make a move up the street before we get taken down by the fake snowman?’
She refused to make eye contact. He guessed it was a step up from biting his head off.
‘Oh, Daddy, look at those pretty lights!’ Maddie said, pointing at the buildings in front of them displaying glowing Christmas trees and trumpeting angels. ‘I like London. It’s all sparkly.’