A Family Holiday: A heartwarming summer romance for fans of Katie Fforde. Bella Osborne
so and Charlie felt her cheeks colour up. What was that all about?
‘We need to talk about the kids,’ said Felix at last. ‘I don’t think there is anyone who can be the kind of guardian that Tobes and Helen would have wanted. You know, someone in the family who could love the children like their own.’
Charlie swallowed hard. It wasn’t meant to be but it felt like a blow to her relationship with them.
‘What about Roger?’ she suggested. ‘He’s their grandfather and he wouldn’t actually have to do anything.’
‘He’s a bit of a long shot, being elderly, and wasn’t he a bit unsteady on his feet?’
‘He’s got arthritis. He’s in a nursing home.’
Felix shrugged and fiddled with the handle of his mug. ‘He wouldn’t be very involved, so I don’t know what Social Services would say about that. Or the solicitors, as it was me and Ruth who were named in the will.’
Charlie knew the odds were stacking up against Roger. ‘I’m not saying he’s a great option but he could be an option.’
‘So is Ruth. She’s keen to make sure the children have a financially secure future, but she’s not the mothering type.’
‘That’s an understatement,’ said Charlie and they both smiled at each other and held eye contact. ‘So that leaves you,’ said Charlie, and she knew she looked like a puppy as she eyed him hopefully.
Felix blinked and broke the intensity. ‘I am the last thing those kids need.’
‘But you don’t have to actually do anything. I would look after them…’
‘That’s not what their parents would have wanted.’
‘Then stump up!’ said Charlie, sounding crosser than she intended. Felix looked taken aback. Charlie tried to relax the situation with a smile. ‘What I mean is…’ she thought for a moment, this was tricky because stump up was exactly what she meant. ‘Nobody is ever going to replace their parents. They just need someone to love them. You could do that.’
Felix stood up abruptly, bumping into the table and knocking over what was left of Charlie’s coffee. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said waving at the coffee. ‘I’ll be in touch.’ He squeezed his way out of the coffee shop repeatedly saying ‘excuse me’ as he went and repeatedly he was ignored.
On Monday morning, Charlie sat on the floor of the living room, her ear getting quite soggy from the prolonged closeness of the telephone. She had been listening to Fleur for the last fifty-two minutes and if she didn’t manage to get her off the phone soon she wouldn’t have time to put the vacuum cleaner round before the lady from Social Services arrived. She probably didn’t need to do it as the cleaning company did the house every Wednesday but, what with Wriggly, who did so love to get on the sofas and roll around on the carpet, Charlie was keen to make sure that everything looked in place. And Charlie thought that fifty-two minutes of being conciliatory was enough for her blunder. Thankfully, Fleur had quickly forgiven Charlie for not telling her about Rob’s infidelity as she was far too busy directing all her venom at Rob.
Charlie tuned back to what Fleur was saying.
‘I think Ma is secretly pleased. She won’t admit it, but she hadn’t really taken to him.’ Fleur had now followed her mother’s lead and taken to avoiding using Rob’s name and instead he was either referred to as ‘him’, ‘Rob the Knob’ or Charlie’s personal favourite and all her own work, the ‘bridegloom’.
‘Like all of us you want someone who will make you happy, Fleur, and Knob simply wasn’t the man for the job.’
‘But I loved him, Charlie.’ Fleur’s voice faltered. Charlie couldn’t endure another round of tears. There simply wasn’t time.
‘He didn’t deserve you. Look, Fleur, what you need is a duvet day with a bunch of rubbish films. Shall I come round later?’
‘No, thank you. I’m okay. But lunch somewhere special on Wednesday or Thursday might be nice.’
‘Okay, let’s do that. Text me.’
‘Will do. And when we meet I’ll give you the details of Pa’s friend, whose nanny is about to go on maternity leave. Pa’s already put a good word in for you so I think the job’s yours. Bye.’
With relief, Charlie put the phone down. Her head was swimming. Should she be thinking about looking for a new job? Perhaps it was foolish to think that whoever became the children’s guardian would want to keep her on. It was a huge assumption. In which case there would no longer be a role for her to play. The trouble was that although Fleur’s suggestion made absolute sense Charlie couldn’t deal with the amount of emotion her thoughts were stirring up. Right now she didn’t want anything else to change, so she would stick her head in the sand – or in this case, the cupboard – and carry on.
She was tugging the vacuum cleaner out of the cupboard when she heard the doorbell go. Surely that couldn’t be the social worker? If it was they were twenty minutes early. Charlie pushed the cleaner back in and ran up to the front door. Sure enough, there, on the doorstep, was a petite woman with an insipid smile and very floral clothes. She was most definitely a social worker and, unfortunately, one of those who could have been made with a cookie cutter. Sometimes you had one who was bright, cheerful, knew a bit about the world and then there were the rest; this woman was most definitely one of the rest, decided Charlie.
‘Hi,’ said Charlie, stepping back to let her in.
‘Hello, I’m Camille,’ she simpered and Charlie inwardly sighed. ‘Would you like to see some identification?’ she asked.
‘No, it’s okay. You’re from Social Services. We’re expecting you.’
‘I am,’ said Camille, looking totally surprised.
‘Although you’re a little early.’
‘So I am,’ said Camille, without looking at her watch. Charlie was already suspicious. Was this an attempt to catch Charlie off guard? Charlie showed her through to the living room and shut the door.
Charlie went down the stairs at speed, through the kitchen and into the playroom. George and Millie were play wrestling and Millie’s hair looked as if a troupe of monkeys had rampaged through it.
‘George, Millie! Stop it now,’ said Charlie, trying not to shout. Millie jumped up and promptly stomped on George’s groin.
George let out a yelp. ‘My testicles!’ said George, nursing the front of his trousers.
‘George!’ Charlie pointed at Millie and tried very hard not to laugh.
For the first fifteen minutes the meeting with Camille went fine. Camille had introduced herself and gone through what usually happened in this situation and the process they would need to go through. Charlie had given her the children’s birth certificates so that she could copy down their details correctly.
‘I see that Edward is Mrs Cobley’s child from a previous relationship.’ It didn’t bode well for them that, despite her appearance, this social worker was on the ball.
‘Yes, Ted was the result of a relationship at university, as I understand it,’ said Charlie. ‘His father doesn’t keep in touch and Toby always brought him up as his own.’
‘However, this does mean that technically he isn’t orphaned, so if his father was able to look after him that would be an option for Edward.’
‘Ted is sixteen in September, he doesn’t know his father at all and Mr and Mrs Cobley wanted the children to stay together. It specifically stated it in their wills.’
‘Yes,