His eyebrows flash upwards. ‘How’s that going? I hear they’ve been having troubles.’
This is one of those painful conversations where I’m on my specialist subject, and I’ve totally flunked the first question. ‘I’m withDaniels the department storeand everything was fabulous there when I left a week ago.’ I add in a cover all just as a talisman. ‘As far as I know.’ Like not walking under a ladder. Or throwing spilled salt over my shoulder. Or not taking ivy in the house haha. Obviously I break the rules on that one all the time. All those superstitions my granny insisted on so often, I can’t do anything else. Not that they saved me trouble in the long term. I turn to Fliss for backup, because suddenly Milo’s making me doubt myself. ‘Danielsare doing brilliantly …aren’t they?’
Fliss is busy disentangling a soggy spinach puff from her hair and raises an ironic eyebrow. ‘Obviously they’re struggling without me, it’ll all be fine once I start my “back to work” transition.’
He shrugs. ‘Well, you’re at the sharp end, and what do I know? Investments are what I dabble in, mostly I sell luxury cars.’
However much I’d love to quiz him about the knock on the front passenger side of my Corsa he’s not going to be interested, so I’m taking this back to him. ‘And how’s that going?’
He’s smiling again, but this time there’s an extra twinkle. ‘Terrible, but December always is. That’s how I got to sneak away early and come here.’ His eyebrows close together again, and he’s back to the spotlight and thumb screws. ‘Christmas must beDaniels’ busiest time, how didyouget time off?’
I’m not going to start on the saga of my outstanding holiday allocation. ‘The shop windows get blacked out for the after-Christmas sales, a lot of the sale stock is displayed in boxes, so it was a great time for me too.’ I make my smile bright and friendly, but make sure the ‘keep out’ signals are firmly in place on my metaphorical six foot high razor wire personal defence fence. ‘And will your dad and Miranda be joining us for lunch?’ It’s the best diversion I can think of.
Milo somehow has his arms free, because he’s munching his pasty. ‘I left them a note, but I guess they’ve decided on the hot tub instead.’
Thinking of Ambrose alone at the castle, I lean over to Bill. ‘I hope you’ve locked up your gin store.’
Bill treats me to me his best superior eye roll. ‘It’s fine, my dad’s around to keep an eye on things back at the ranch.’
I’m leaning forward to check. ‘Actually, I think you’ll find your dad’s here, I’m sure he waved earlier when I was at the bar.’
Milo frowns. ‘There’s your answer. The castle andallthe gin to themselves, they won’t be going anywhere.’ He grins and pulls a face. ‘Talk about a handful, since we lost Mum he’s gone right off the rails, I never know what he’ll get up to next.’
Fliss gives a groan from along the table. ‘Don’t say that, I’m relying on Ambrose to keep Miranda out of trouble.’
Despite having zero space Milo manages to nudge me and his voice drops. ‘If babysitting him means I get to meet people like you, I’m not complaining.’
The huskiness in his voice makes my stomach contract. ‘Great.’ The little bit of sick in my mouth is probably why they call it a gut reaction. And it’s all to do with me, and nothing to do with Milo, who I’m sure is lovely so long as he’s further away and not turning that dazzly-toothed smile in my direction. Come to think of it, now he’s up close, I’m picking up Paco Rabane Million and lots of it, but it’s smelling nothing like as nice as it does in the store. I need to speed this up and not only so I can decompress my bum. ‘Maybe we should hurry back?’
Milo’s smiling at everyone again. ‘I’m sure they’ll be fine, they’re only enjoying a bit of alone time, what can go wrong there?’
Bill catches my eye over Oscar’s head. ‘Are you worried Ambrose might drown again?’
The glare I send him isn’t anything like hard enough. And now I’m hanging my hopes on Oscar and Harriet to give me a fast exit. Whenever Fliss and I venture out for lunch with them we only ever have a two minute window to bolt down our food before one of them starts yelling. But thanks to Milo pulling silly faces at Harriet and making the kind of car noises that send Oscar into peals of helpless laughter, today they’re lasting longer. Half an hour later when Harriet’s still kicking contentedly, munching chunks of Milo’s second pasty I’m despairing of ever leaving when Oscar comes through for me.
Fliss suddenly lets out a shout. ‘No, Oscar, don’t take the top off your drink, I just filled it up!’
A second later the whole chilly beakerful sloshes out and into my lap. ‘Oh no!’Thank you, thank you, thank you, Oscar!As the water soaks my crotch and beads on my pink glittery jumper I’m hoping my gasp of horror hides how delighted I am.
Fliss leaps up and dives back with cloths from the bar. ‘So sorry, Ivy-leaf, what was I saying about you being accident prone?’
I’m beaming. ‘It’s fine, after yesterday you can throw water at me all day long.’ And who would think one small cup of the stuff would spread so far and so effectively. The best part is, everyone gets up to help and by the time we’ve used up most of the Hungry Shark’s industrial sized kitchen roll mopping up there’s little point sitting down again. So we get our coats on again, Bill’s getting as far away from Harriet as he can but Milo comes to pick her up. So with him carrying her and Fliss and I sharing Oscar, we wander up and down the mews and the narrow twisting streets soaking up the twinkle and the golden warmth from the shop windows. And when the older kids’ groans get too much to take we wind our way back down past the harbour, out over the dunes, and back down onto the sand.
Thanks to us keeping up with Merwyn’s bounds and barks, we reach the castle ahead of the others. As we look back we can see them a long way behind, still trudging around the curve of the bay.
‘Here, Oscar, I’ll draw you a Christmas tree in the sand, and we can fill it with shells while we wait for the others to catch us up.’
Milo puts Harriet down and she crawls towards us. ‘She needs one too.’
Fliss joins in. ‘And make one for me.’
Even with a small group of people, there’s this wonderful feeling of space and solitude you get on an empty beach that you don’t get anywhere else. The wind blowing around my head might be cold even through my hat, but as I pick up a stick and start scraping lines in the flat damp sand, it wraps me in my own cocoon. It doesn’t matter that Merwyn’s paw marks are scattered across them or that Harriet’s throwing handfuls of sand at us. Or even that the sea is the same dull brown as the sky today, with chalky white dashes of foam, instead of blue and glittery. What begins as one tree ends as a long line, wandering and wavy above the foam of the water’s edge. As the others come they join in too, as fast as I draw them they’re dotting them with shells and stones and seaweed strands.
Libby’s marching along the tree line wafting her phone triumphantly. ‘A Christmas tree forest on the beach, no one’s put one of those up yet this year.’
By the time we eventually get cold and drift our way back to the castle, the masses of grey clouds in the afternoon sky are fading. But as we come into the courtyard, instead of the expected glow spotlights and the steam from the hot tub, the stone flags are unlit, and the tub cover is on.
Fliss shrugs. ‘Miranda’s had enough of the hot tub! That’s a first.’
