Fern Britton 3-Book Collection: The Holiday Home, A Seaside Affair, A Good Catch. Fern Britton
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I did was what you bloody asked me to do. “Find a plumber,” you said. So I did.’
‘I didn’t mean Merlin Pengelly,’ Connie hurled at him.
Pru had come out of the house again, brandishing a mop and bucket. She rounded on Connie.
‘How dare you call me Miss High and Mighty. And my son is nothing like Little Lord Fauntleroy.’
‘Actually, I was describing your poor henpecked husband,’ screeched Connie.
‘Girls, girls, that is below the belt,’ said Greg. ‘Connie, darling, apologise.’
‘I will not apologise, and thank you so much for backing me up as a husband should,’ Connie replied sarcastically. ‘Furthermore, don’t you “darling” me, you thoughtless ape.’
As Connie was clearly losing control of herself, Pru attempted to claim the moral high ground.
‘Greg, dear, please try to keep your wife under control. She’s always had these temper tantrums. It’s so pathetic.’
Connie rounded on her. ‘You’re the pathetic one. Pretending you have a bad back, getting Francis to do all the dirty work for you, sucking up to Mum and Dad to steal my inheritance.’
As the girls continued venting grievances they’d been storing for decades, Francis appeared on the doorstep with two full buckets of soapy water.
Standing stock-still, listening to the unusually colourful language being employed by his wife and sister-in-law, he looked to Greg for help. Greg shrugged his shoulders.
‘Come on, old man. Leave them to it. This has been brewing all week.’
‘We can’t just leave them.’ Francis put the buckets down and went towards Pru. His timing meant that he walked straight into her hand as she raised it to slap Connie. ‘Ow.’ He fell to the grass on his knees, stunned.
Belinda could take no more. Francis needed her. In seconds she was in their garden and had drenched both women with one of the buckets of water. Before they had a chance to recover, she pushed Connie towards Greg and Pru towards Francis. Standing with her hands on her hips, she gave the sorry-looking, sopping-wet group a disappointed stare. ‘Do you want your kids to hear you airing your dirty laundry in public? Now shake hands, the pair of you.’
The sisters looked at each other with undisguised aggression. Had they been cats, their tails would have been lashing the air.
‘I said, shake hands,’ growled Belinda.
The men let their women go and the sisters managed the briefest of hand contact.
‘Good,’ said Belinda. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now, I don’t want to hear another word from either of you.’
She turned towards the men. ‘And what are you gormless chumps gawking at? Never seen a woman break up an argument before?’
Merlin took a long draw on his cigarette. Francis stared at his feet, his cheeks colouring. Greg gave a suggestive laugh and said, ‘Oh, many times, Belinda. But never topless.’
*
An hour later and a composed Belinda had showered and was pouring herself a deserved glass of perfectly chilled white wine in the kitchen of Dairy Cottage.
There was a knock at the door.
‘Hi, kids. Come in.’
‘Hi, Mum,’ said Emily. ‘Can Abi and Jem come in too?’
‘Absolutely. More the merrier.’ Belinda kissed them all and directed them to the parlour. ‘What’ll you have to drink, Jem? Abi? Glass of wine?’
‘Yes, please,’ said a hopeful Emily.
‘Not you,’ replied her mother.
Grabbing a couple of extra wine glasses, the chilled bottle, a family bag of Twiglets, and a tin of Coke for Emily, she settled down with the kids.
‘What you been up to today?’
Emily, her mouth full of Twiglets, told her mother all the places that Jem and Abi had taken her to during their walk to the village. ‘I got a tattoo, look.’ She rolled up the sleeve of her T-shirt and at the top of her arm was a small mermaid coloured in pink and green with a dusting of glitter over it.
Belinda played the game. ‘Is it a real one?’
‘Don’t be daft – you have to be eighteen.’
‘How long does that one last then?’
‘A week.’
‘It’s very cool.’
‘Yeah. And afterwards we got ice creams and went and sat on the beach, then we had a swim and went rock-pooling.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, and Jem, like, catches fish with his bare hands!’
‘Does he now? Clever boy.’ She gave him an appreciative look and noticed his glass was empty, ‘Pass me your glass for a little top-up.’
He held his glass out readily. Abi frowned at him and put a hand over hers.
Belinda set the bottle back down on the floor. ‘So, who taught you how to fish? Your dad?’
‘No, it’s not really his thing. It was Poppa, my grandfather. He loves all that stuff. Have you seen his speedboat yet?’
‘No,’ said Belinda, raising her eyebrows. ‘Sounds fun.’
‘Oh, it’s wicked. Abi and I are qualified to drive it – soon as we were old enough, we did the course and passed the test and everything. But we only go out when the weather’s good.’
‘Of course. Where does he keep it? Trevay?’
‘Oh no, it’s under the house.’ Jem told Belinda and Emily all about the hidden cave.
‘Coool,’ said Emily. ‘Can I have a ride in it?’
‘Yeah,’ said Jem, ‘but I’ll have to check with Poppa and Mum first.’
‘OK, but best not bother them today,’ said Belinda, swirling the wine round her glass. ‘Leave it till tomorrow.’
‘Why?’ said Abi. ‘Has something happened?’
Abi and Jem sat astonished as Belinda gave them a sanitised account of what had happened earlier.
‘… I’m sure they will have sorted things out by now,’ she finished. ‘I wouldn’t let it worry you.’
The children didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
‘But why were they arguing?’ asked Jem.
Belinda shook her head, ‘Family business, from the sound of it. Let’s not talk about it any more.’
Abi felt she had to apologise. ‘I am so sorry. How embarrassing. God. It’s freaking me out just thinking about it.’
‘Don’t be silly – I’m a grown woman who has seen it all. Families can be so complicated. But your mums love each other. Trust me, they’ll work it out.’
Jem and Abi looked at each other. They weren’t so sure.
*
The next morning, Henry and Dorothy were sitting in their warm conservatory sharing a crossword. Henry was in his comfortable armchair and Dorothy was calling out the clues.
‘Fifteen down, “Impossible to ignore or avoid.”’
‘How many letters?’
‘It’s three words. Two, four, four. We’ve got the first letter of the second word, Y.’
‘Y for Yankee?’
‘Yes.’
‘Hmm.