‘We were all so worried about you, darling. You do know that?’
‘Were you? It didn’t show.’
‘Yes well,’ Stella huffed. ‘You know what the family is like. Deflect true concern into nagging about something else.’
‘Like why I’m still not married and providing yet more grandchildren. Already had a bucketful of that.’
This time it was Stella who changed the subject. ‘Why Stratford, darling?’
‘It’s pretty. Good access to motorway networks and airports. I like Shakespeare and rumour has it there’s a theatre there.’
‘And it’s not too near the clan Starling,’ his sister said, knowingly.
‘It’s not too far away either.’
‘Johnny, you’re a west country boy. You simply cannot hole yourself up in the Midlands. The call of the sea gets all of us in the end.’
‘Is that why you’re in Budleigh and poor old Brian’s in London?’
Stella sipped her champagne and narrowed her eyes at him over the rim of the glass. ‘It suits Brian to commute back for the weekends and having a London pied-à-terre is so useful. I like my trips to town as well, you know.’
‘And you like your own space when Brian’s not around.’
‘It has its advantages. Only God knows what I’ll do when he retires. Under my feet all the time. It’ll be like having a third son. The horror, darling. I just hope he takes up golf.’
Her dismay was so apparent it made him laugh and jolted him out of his mood. He ate some more and said, after a pause during which he was aware of his sister staring at him questioningly, ‘I’m okay you know, sis, I really am.’
‘As long as you are. Despite all the nagging, we do care about you, you know.’
To avoid any more questions, he began to tell her about the mix-up at Sea Haven House. Licking his finger clean of cream cheese he added, ‘So we’ve ended up sharing.’ He shrugged. ‘Seems to be working out.’
Stella, having been sidetracked by Euan trying to swipe a glass of champagne, turned back to him. ‘You mean you’re sharing the holiday cottage with a complete stranger?’
‘Trust me. In comparison with some of the places I’ve had to kip down in, this is the height of luxury and at least she–’
‘It’s awoman?I say!’ Stella’s interest was well and truly piqued.
Seeing her successfully distracted, Euan saluted his uncle with a brimming champagne flute and disappeared.
‘Yes, her name is Callie and she’s here for the Art Festival.’
Before he could say more Stella had gone out to the terrace and shrieked. ‘Jessica, come here at once.’ Returning to Johnny she said, ‘Jess will know her. She’s had a hand in organising the festival.’
Jessica, their youngest sibling, trotted over carrying baby Inigo. ‘What’s all the yelling about?’ she complained. Spotting her brother, she added, ‘Oh hi, Johnny. Thanks for coming.’ She reached up and kissed him. ‘Here, could you grab hold of the sprog for a second while I eat. I’m ravenous.’
Jessica went to survey the buffet. While she filled a plate Johnny held the baby at arm’s length. He really wished people didn’t do this. He hadn’t a clue what to do with babies. Little Inigo thankfully didn’t pick up on his uncle’s uncertainty and just grumbled sightly, holding out pudgy arms.
‘Hold him closer,’ Stella said, amused. ‘He won’t bite. Make him feel safe.’
Johnny cradled the baby closer to his chest. A waft of baby scent hit him, vanilla sweet. Before he could stop it, an image flashed into his head of a shattered child he’d seen crushed under an earthquake flattened building. Screwing his eyes shut he determinedly concentrated on the one in his arms.
Jessica returned, stuffing Kettle chips into her mouth. She was the prettiest of the Starling sisters with wild curly hair and clear, knowing blue eyes. As a concession to the occasion, she wore a vividly patterned dress but had temporarily jettisoned shoes to go barefoot. ‘You look the bizz, Johnny. He likes you. He doesn’t settle for just old anyone.’
Johnny gazed down at Inigo, at his creamy innocence, at the perfect four limbs and undamaged downy head so different to the child whose image tormented him.
With great relish Stella filled Jessica in on what Johnny had told her about his unusual living arrangements.
‘Oh, that must be Calliope Thorne.’ Jessica nodded and bit into a slice of red pepper. ‘She does amazing work. Huge canvasses. Abstracts sort of, but you can still see the flowers that inspired them. She works in clumps of coloured paper to give a 3-D effect too. Adore them. Would love one for the house. They’re the most gorgeous colours. Soft purples and greys.’
