I smothered a groan. This was being done deliberately to wind Seph and Payton up, who returned to being toddlers occasionally.
“I think you’re doing the right thing,” I needed to make sure this stayed on the right track. Seph and Payton, Ava and probably Callum, would be upset about the move but there were more important things to be concerned with right now, like Rose. “We aren’t here as much now, and when we can all get together we take turns. It’s a big house to feel empty.”
“But we could’ve bought it between us,” Payton sat on the arm of the chair where Seph was, her hand on his shoulder. “Still used it.”
I shook my head. “For what? It would’ve been a waste and we’d only be doing it to be sentimental. It’d be odd as well if Mum and Dad weren’t here.” I glanced at Marie. I knew she couldn’t help but smile when I called her mum.
There was more discussion about the principals of it, which petered out into furniture and things we’d left behind when we moved out, some of us more than once.
“What’s happening to the bookcase?” Payton asked. “The really big one in the snug.”
“You need to let us know what you want – and we’re not getting involved in any arguments, act like adults, please – and then arrange collection. The family buying it wants us to leave some things for them.” Marie sat down in her favourite chair. “I haven’t decided what I do with this chair yet. But anyway, cheers.” She held up her almost empty glass. “Here’s to Rose getting better and to new beginnings.”
“Cheers.” There was a resounding clink of glasses, an accusation of Callum pinching Claire’s glass which she said had more champagne left in it, and then the tour of the house began, supported by the beginnings of memories that wouldn’t be sold with everything else.
MEMORY TWO
GRANT
I was told Polly and Colin’s counsel was in the meeting room diagonally opposite mine, so when I opened the door and saw the woman with the Snow White hair and startling blue eyes at the table my brain short circuited on several counts.
“Hi.” I was just so fucking good at introductions.
She looked up, red lips parting slightly. “Did you manage to make yourself a pot of coffee or are you still trying to find a woman to do it for you?”
My hands went to my heart, and I feigned pain. “You wound me.”
She folded her arms and gave me a look I remembered from a nanny when I was still young enough to need one.
“I’m sorry. It was the wrong assumption to make. In my defence I had about two hours sleep last night and I’m not firing on any cylinder.” I held my hands up as if she was about to shoot me.
I’d probably have let her. I was exhausted to the point where I wasn’t sure if my sentences were coherent. How I’d managed today without my clients demanding someone more competent was beyond me. I’d needed too much repeating, soundedgarbled and generally fucked a lot of shit up before managing to correct it.
“You shouldn’t have been tasting the delights of New York then.” Little Miss Stroppy put her hands on hips that had just the right curve and spat her words at me.
I was surprised, not at what she said, but at the fact I’d noticed how she looked. I’d been dead from the waist down for over a year, apart from an ill-advised one night stand with a woman I’d met in a bar after a gruelling end to a court case. It hadn’t provided anything like sweet relief, just a shit-ton of guilt and left me feeling worse than I already did.
“And you shouldn’t make assumptions, especially when you’re on your high horse at me for doing so. I was trying to persuade my offspring that sleep was a good thing.” I was too tired to play games and make something up or be high and mighty.
“Offspring? You’ve got kids?”
I nodded, that well of guilt and pride and everything else that I couldn’t untangle about to overflow. “Four of them. Three sons and a daughter.”
“How old are they?” There was a soft smile when she asked the question.
“Two, eight, six and five.” I shook my head. “I don’t advise such small age gaps if you’re ever considering it. They’re a handful.” And I didn’t know what to do.
“I’m one of nine. The second eldest. My brother’s a year older than me, then there’s about eighteen months between the rest, two years between a couple. I grew up in organised chaos.” Her expression was sympathetic rather than judgey. “Are they with their mam now?”
I shook my head. “She died a bit more than a year ago.”
“I’m sorry. That must be really hard.” Her hands were off her hips now, her stance relaxed and open. “It must be difficult to leave them.”
I wished I could agree with that. I had no idea how to parent my children probably because I’d never been parented myself, my father always at work and my mother at the country club. I had nannies and governesses who were wonderful and kind and I was a good kid. At seven I was sent to boarding school where I had an okay time, much better than most, so my experience of being parented was Christmas Days when the staff were off and parents’ days at school when I’d be told how proud they were of me. Sleepless nights and wild children weren’t something I’d be given instruction in.
“Everything’s tricky at the moment. I am sorry I asked you about the coffee this morning.” It was an arsehole thing to assume and not something I’d usually do. I may have been brought up by the hired help, but those women had instilled in me a lot of good, or so I thought.
I wasn’t feeling much good at being a father at the moment.
