“Could be New York. I know she’s heard from the cousins over there a few times recently. I saw something on her Facebook from Marc saying ‘it was good to talk’. Shall we confront her?” I said, trying desperately not to look at Owen.
Claire shook her head. “Not yet. Let me do some digging. She’s taken to coming over in the evening to see Eliza and she talks to her as if she really can understand. I’ll keep the baby monitor on me to see if she gives something away.”
“Isn’t that a bit underhanded and sneaky?”
Claire’s look suggested I had not only lost the plot but my mind also. “She’s our sister. It’s our job to be underhanded and sneaky.”
Killian stood in front of his fiancée and kissed his daughter’s head. “What did Eliza think of Daddy’s try?”
“She thought it was sleep inducing,” Claire said. “Mummy found it quite hot though. Can you get a lift to Max’s and I can go straight there? She’s going to want feeding soon and I’d rather not do it on a rugby field. I have some standards.”
“I can give you a lift,” Owen said. “As long as you shower first. You smell like a dog that’s rolled in fox shit.”
Killian lifted his shirt and sniffed a large brown stain. “I think you’re probably right. This isn’t just mud.” He looked utterly disgusted.
Owen choked back a laugh. “I’m pretty sure it’s not as bad as baby shit.” His eyes fixed on me. “Where’s the banner you promised?”
“I didn’t want you to get any unnecessary teasing from my brothers,” I said. “I was protecting you.” He looked huge in front of me, muscles pumped and shirt tight over his arms.
“I think I could’ve handled it. Do you want a lift too?”
“How long will you be preening yourselves for? I think Seph’s record for getting ready is about ninety minutes, so longer than the actual game,” I said warily. I had waited for my twin a few times to get ready and each time had been torturous.
“Seph’s getting a lift with Callum, so I’ll be about twenty minutes. Wait for me.”
I nodded, because there was nothing else I could do.
* * *
Max’s girlfriend, Victoria, and Jackson’s wife, Vanessa, had joined forces to create a Sunday buffet. There were roast meats, veggies, salad, roast potatoes and Yorkshire puddings, which I dived into before my siblings could eat my share. My parents had driven over that morning and the wine was already open.
“Couldn’t wait, Payts?” Seph said, pinching a roasted parsnip from my plate.
Max had set up the large antique dining table, but this wasn’t a formal occasion and my family and friends were scattered around the room, most of them tucking in to food. The atmosphere was celebratory: since Callum had returned like the prodigal son from some remote country in Africa family gatherings had become more frequent but it was unusual for everyone to be able to make it. This was the first Sunday lunch since Eliza was born and she, plus the victory today, added to the feel.
I was happy. My world was around me and all was well.
Owen stood next to the beers, deep in discussion with Jackson, plate in hand. I watched him for a moment. His hair was still damp, his face unshaven, and he wearing his usual jeans and T-shirt. From behind his glasses blue eyes shone.
“He’s going to see you staring at him like that, you know,” the most familiar voice in the world whispered over my shoulder.
“Mum,” I said. “Don’t sneak up on me!”
“If you weren’t paying attention to only one thing you’d have noticed me there.” She nestled her chin on my shoulder, and I smelled her perfume, the same scent she’d always worn for the day time. It was childhood and comfort, my every safe place. “He is rather attractive; I have to say. And he seems to really like you.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Ah,” she said, and then fell silent.
“What does that mean?” I asked when she offered no further explanation.
“Baby, the way you look at each other makes it seem like you want to eat each other up. He’s itching to come over to you. You might be just friends now and think that’s all you want because you’re scared, but what happens when he gets a girlfriend? How will you feel about being just friends then?”
Fucking mortified.
“I’ll give that some thought,” I said.
“See that you do.”
