‘Etienne!’ she stage-whispered from the bottom of the stairs. Nothing. She crept up to the landing and saw the night lights were still on in George’s room. Maybe he hadn’t got off to sleep yet. She poked her head around the door.
Etienne and George were both in bed. George wore a clean pair of pyjamas and had a touch more colour in his cheeks. Etienne lay beside him wearing yet another of Fox’s shirts, snoring lightly, a children’s book on his chest. Isabella tiptoed over and switched off the bedside light. Let them sleep. She’d leave them to it and head home.
She pulled the bedroom door to and was on the top step to head down when the other bedroom door opened and Reggie appeared, white like a ghost with shadows under his eyes.
‘Isabella,’ he groaned, holding his tummy. ‘When’s Daddy home? I feel a bit sick.’
She moved as fast as she could to get him to the bathroom. It wasn’t fast enough.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Etienne
Etienne woke with George poking his fingers up his nose. He snorted, or sneezed, and George dissolved into a fit of giggles. He was practically sitting on Etienne’s head.
‘What are you doing in my bed, Uncle Et?’ George said as Etienne pulled himself up to lean on the headboard, pushing a hand through his hair. It snagged on something sticky which smelled of peanuts.
‘I must have fallen asleep,’ Etienne said, stretching.
‘And why are you wearing Daddy’s shirt?’ George ran his fingers over the fabric.
‘Because you– YOU. . .’ Etienne said, grabbing the boy and tickling him hard, ‘got sick all over me!’
George squealed and wriggled out of his grasp. He slid off the bed saying, ‘Oops, sorry about that!’ As he widened his eyes apologetically, George looked so much like Fox that Etienne had to laugh.
He ran a hand over his face, scratching his stubble, then checked his watch, wondering how much sleep he’d had. It had been a mad, crazy day yesterday. Thank God for Isabella who had been brilliant. He couldn’t remember exactly what time it was when Isabella went home. . . Wait. He sat bolt upright.Hadshe gone home?
The last thing he could in fact remember was lying on the bed with George in fresh pyjamas after his bath, to read him a quick bedtime story. He’d thought it would only be a minute and he could slip off and leave him to it, go back downstairs and clear up. And then, he might have helped himself to a slice of Isabella if she was still on the menu. He remembered the look between them. The promise. But he must have fallen asleep. He threw the Power Rangers duvet off and sprang out of bed, taking the stairs two at a time. George sat on his bottom and bumped down behind him.
Dingbat nearly wagged his tail off to see him in the kitchen and stood pointedly in front of his doggie bowl. Etienne threw him a handful of dog biscuits and then turned in wonder on the spot. It was unrecognisable from the ruins of yesterday. The kitchen was gleaming. The washing-up was dry on the rack. The table was scrubbed. The floor was immaculate. No signs of playtime or mealtime or worse. He definitely needed to message Isabella and thank her. He hadn’t expected this.
‘Can I have my tablet time now, please?’ George asked, pointing at the iPad, and Etienne nodded, relieved to see the boy looking so much better.
‘Go get comfy then and I’ll bring us some breakfast,’ Etienne said, lifting the front of the bread bin to explore the contents. George plodded off, already navigating to his cartoons on the screen.
As Etienne had delivered his mini-master a plate of hot bagels and jam, he noticed the Lego boxes cleared away and the reading books stacked back on the shelf. He reached for his phone; he should message Isabella. She’d done so much. He cringed at the thought of being asleep while she cleared up. She must be livid. He heard a creak overhead from Reggie’s room and pocketed his phone again. It would have to wait. He needed to think of the right words. He’d do it once he was home.
Taking the stairs two at a time again, he headed along the landing to Reggie’s room. Pushing open the door, he stopped dead in his tracks. Reggie was sitting up in bed, both fists rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, hair flat on one side. And Isabella was sleeping on a bunch of cushions on the floor, wearing yet another of Fox’s checked shirts.
Reggie blinked his eyes open, frowned at Etienne and pointed at Isabella.
‘Why is she on my floor?’ he asked loudly, and Isabella pulled herself upright groggily, immediately looking towards his bed.
‘Feeling better, Reggie?’ she asked and he nodded happily. ‘That’s good.’
She crossed her legs and stretched before spotting Etienne and attempting a laugh. Her hair was wild, her mouth was sleep-swollen, and her bare legs peeked out under Fox’s shirt. Etienne exhaled slowly. The things he wanted to do to her.
‘Breakfast?’ he asked instead. Reggie tumbled out of bed and ran whooping down the stairs.
An hour later, Reggie was dressed and fed. George was dressed apart from his joggers, which he had put on the dog. All three of them were playing happily in the front room. Isabella sat at the breakfast table with her legs tucked under herself, nibbling toast.
‘Quite a night, eh?’ Etienne said as a starter.
‘When I heard that everyone wanted to spend the night with you, I don’t think this was quite what they were imagining.’
He spread his arms to take in the kitchen. ‘I do want to thank you, though. The clean-up was amazing. But staying with Reggie when he was sick was above and beyond.’
‘Didn’t seem fair to leave, you’d have two of them on your hands,’ she said, pushing her plate away. ‘Think it’s put me off my food, though.’ He nodded. He knew the feeling. He’d only managed coffee himself.
