* * *
I slept late, not just because I was tired after a busy week and the house was so quiet in the countryside away from the continual roar of traffic, but also because I was woken by my twin trying to turf me out of bed at two am, thinking I was in his room. Whoever had let him near the tequila—probably Callum—needed electrocuting, something I’d threatened to do quite happily.
After that, I’d slept soundly, missing breakfast and brunch. I also completely missed Simone and Amelie’s arrivals. Even the noisy neighbouring rooster hadn’t raised me from the sleep that was usually reserved for the newly dead. I slipped downstairs just after midday to find a glorious late spring day. The sun was full in a blue sky that was cloudless and full of promise and I felt the same sort of excited anticipation as I had when I was younger and felt that something special was going to happen.
Seph was mowing the lawn directly behind the kitchen and Callum was on the sit-on mower, going over the expansive grassy area that surrounded the house. My parents had a gardener who came regularly, but there were always jobs saved for Callum and Seph, especially when Marie knew we were coming.
My mother was weeding the herb garden she kept but rarely used to actually cook with. She smiled as she caught sight of me, a smear of dirt across her cheek. I decided not to tell her about it.
“You look well rested,” she said, stretching.
“Is that another way of saying I’ve slept late?” I said, raising my brows. As kids, my dad had been fastidious at waking us before nine on a Saturday. I still didn’t understand why.
She shook her head. “Not at all. You look much healthier than you did a few weeks ago. Your skin’s clearer and your eyes are brighter. It’s good you’re looking after yourself.”
“I haven’t slept this late in years,” I said. “I spoke to Owen last night. You’re still okay with him staying?” I watched her face closely for her reaction.
She gave away nothing. “Totally. There’s a room in the coach house that’s made up already unless he’s staying with you?”
“The coach house is fine. Where are Claire and the baby?”
“Gone with your father to see the house in the village that’s for sale. Can you start lunch? There’s a pot of soup on the go that needs blending slightly, not so that it becomes pureed. And there are cold cuts to put out and salad. Simone’s just getting settled then she’ll come and help too,” she said, picking up her trowel. “I like Simone. It’s a shame she’s had such a bad time of it with men. Maybe if you’re not interested in Owen, you could set them up on a date?” She smiled beautifully at me.
“Absolutely no way. And don’t be telling anyone that I’ve said that. Give me time to get myself ready, mother.” I picked a basil leaf and rubbed it between my fingers, the smell making me think of food.
This time her smile was gentle. “I won’t say anything. But please don’t keep the boy hanging on by a thread. It’s not fair and there are other women out there who are good enough for him too,” she said, smacking my hand. “And don’t pick my basil leaves. Now, go help with lunch.”
Simone was already in the kitchen, bustling around with balsamic vinegar and sea salt, and eyeing up a rather large knife which was disconcerting. She’d met us through Vanessa, whose marketing company she’d engaged to help with her newest restaurant and had since become part of our shared circle of friends.
“Hiya, Payts,” she said, barely looking up.
“You sure you don’t mind helping out? You do this all the time.” I looked under near the lid to a large pot where it looked like Marie had made her summer vegetable soup that really only needed a little blending.
Simone shook her head. Her make-up was perfectly applied and her long red hair was shining.
As the owner of two fine dining restaurants in London, Simone was obsessed with food, just not necessarily eating all of it. I already knew I couldn’t be a chef. Any restaurant I had would run at a loss as I would literally eat all the profits.
“I really enjoy working with food and nowadays, other than creating the menu and designing the dishes, I rarely get to cook, unless I don’t have a chef, and that doesn’t happen anymore.”
“Then feel free to knock yourself out. No one here will complain, least of all my dad,” I said, finding the hand blender.
“Here,” Simone said, taking the blender straight from me. “You don’t need to use that. I’ll sort the soup; can you chop the onions?”
And just like that I became the sous chef.
* * *
Owen arrived just as everyone was migrating inside for lunch. I found him next to the platter of Parma ham and prosciutto, creating some form of behemoth sandwich that was almost as attractive as him. “Nothing like coming over and saying hi,” I said, creeping up behind him. He wasn’t surprised, simply turning around and biting into the mouth-watering creation. My eyes were fixed on the food rather than him.
“I’d usually tell someone to get a room if they looked like you do,” Victoria said, watching us. “But I think the phrase should be to get some food instead. You need feeding Payts, before you actually eat a person.” I acted on the advice and filled my plate with far more than I knew I could eat.
My mother had already set her sights on Owen, commandeering him before he’d even manged to get half way through his sandwich. Her talk was the usual, asking how the journey was and what he’d done this morning, before launching into a discussion about books and what she was currently reading.
I left them to it, discovering the cheesecake that Simone had brought with her. It became partway through the afternoon before I had a chance to speak to Owen as he was dragged off by Seph and Callum to help with the mowing and then Max grabbed him to look at something mildly irritating on YouTube that they found hilarious.
“I think I’ve seen everyone but you,” he said, sitting down next to me on the blanket I’d laid out the lawn so I could sprawl out and read in the sun. “It was like your family were doing their best to make sure we couldn’t talk.”
I put my book face down and turned to look at him. He was slightly sweaty and I figured he’d probably been participating in some stupid stunt given he had grass stains up his T-shirt. “What idiotic things have my brothers had you doing?”
