A Family Holiday: A heartwarming summer romance for fans of Katie Fforde. Bella Osborne
if Helen’s father, Roger Talbot, could be the children’s guardian instead?’
‘Oh, I wasn’t aware there were any other family members?’ Camille seemed to brighten up, as she poised her pen over her notebook. ‘How old is Mr Talbot and where does he live?’
‘He was seventy last year, they had a big party for him at the nursing home,’ said Charlie and she saw Camille’s brightness fade. ‘He has all his marbles, he’s only there because he’s got really bad arthritis.’
‘I see,’ said Camille as she made some notes.
‘Will I be able to stay on after the guardian is appointed?’
‘I don’t know, that would be up to the guardian, but what if you get a better job offer? What then?’
‘I stay here,’ said Charlie bluntly. ‘It’s not just a job to me.’
‘Yes, of course, but people’s priorities change and I need to check that everyone understands the implications of any arrangements. And, as I explained, the final decision will rest with a judge.’ She gave a weak smile and Charlie started to feel sweat form on her top lip.
‘Have the children returned to school?’ asked Camille.
‘No, not yet but both the schools have been really supportive. The tutors are in regular contact and have sent work across so that they don’t fall behind on their studies. I guess that’s the benefit of private schools.’
‘You’ll need to talk to the tutors about a plan for them to return.’ said Camille as she jotted down more notes but didn’t look up.
‘Yep, and talk to the children about it too,’ said Charlie as she wondered how she would broach that subject.
The door opened and in came Millie carrying a struggling Wriggly.
‘Wriggly needs a nappy,’ stated Millie, plonking the dog momentarily onto Charlie’s lap before he made his escape.
‘Come here, sweetheart,’ said Charlie, lifting Millie onto her knee. Millie snuggled into Charlie’s shoulder and stared at Camille.
‘So who do we have here?’ asked Camille, her business-like approach lost at the sight of the beautiful child with pouting lips.
‘This is Millie,’ said Charlie.
‘Ah, Amelia Alexandra Cobley,’ said Camille, checking her notes.
‘Th-b-th-sssssss,’ said Millie, blowing a magnificent raspberry at Camille.
‘Be nice,’ whispered Charlie in Millie’s ear and she instantly put on a beaming and slightly scary smile. Camille sat back a little. ‘How do you think the children are coping?’
‘I think the phrase is as well as can be expected.’
Camille nodded, ‘Any drastic changes in behaviour? Anything you need help with?’
‘Testicles,’ said Millie and Camille’s eyebrows shot up. Charlie inwardly cried.
‘Testicles! Testicles!’ chanted Millie happily.
Thankfully, Camille hadn’t seemed too shocked by Millie’s inappropriate chanting. She arranged to visit the following week and also to talk to each of the older children, to understand their wishes. Charlie saw Camille out and returned to the living room. She flopped down on to the sofa next to Millie.
‘How did you think that went?’ asked Charlie.
‘Testicles!’ said Millie.
‘Precisely,’ said Charlie.
Charlie was sound asleep when the phone went. She hated it when the phone rang in the middle of the night; it was usually a wrong number. Charlie didn’t have a landline in her room so it meant she would have to get out of bed and go downstairs. She tried to move an arm but realised that it was dead and trapped underneath a sleeping Eleanor. It seemed Eleanor had rolled that way, having been squeezed out by Millie, who was taking up an inordinate amount of room by sleeping in a star formation. This was not going to be an easy habit to break. Charlie pulled her arm from underneath the sleeping child and removed the weight from her feet that was in the form of a snoring Wriggly. That was another habit that needed to stop too, she thought, as she went downstairs on autopilot. The caller was persistent, so Charlie decided it was worth making the effort to answer it.
‘Hello?’ she said wearily.
‘Thank the Lord. I only had one call and I thought your mobile might be off so I called the house phone and you did pick up. Thank you, thank you,’ said a high-speed Fleur.
‘Uh, Fleur, it’s…’ Charlie looked at the clock ‘ten past two. What do you want?’
‘Um, I need you to come and get me, or I can get a taxi to yours, if that’s easier,’ said Fleur hurriedly.
‘Fleur, talk sense. What’s going on? Are you okay?’
‘Kind of yes and kind of no.’
‘Fleur!’ barked Charlie, her patience worn through already.
‘I went to Rob’s digs and I slashed his tyres, but their neighbourhood watch is really very good so they called the police, who arrested me. I’m in Harold Hill police station and I can’t ring Ma and Pa – they’ll kill me and I don’t think a taxi would risk taking me home as it’s quite far and I don’t have any cash. So I called you and the nice policeman says I need to wind up the call.’ Her voice was getting faster and faster, like someone declaring all the terms and conditions on a lending advert.
‘You prize idiot. Get a taxi here. I’ll pay for it, but you’re paying me back,’ and Charlie put the phone down because, if she didn’t put it down now, in about ten seconds she was going hurl it across the room.
Charlie’s cold feet were pacing the living-room floor, the boiling-mad sensation she could feel elsewhere hadn’t yet travelled that far. When she heard a car pull up outside she sprang towards the front door, grabbing her purse on the way. She opened the door briskly and a startled-looking Fleur stood outside with a knuckle aloft, ready to tap on the door. Charlie held out twenty-pound notes; Fleur took them and delivered them to the waiting cab driver. She slunk back up the steps, past Charlie and into the house. Even in an oversized jumper and her hair roughly tied back she still looked like she could be on the front of a magazine. Her hooded eyes were the only thing that gave her away.
Charlie held the door tightly and, with a lot of effort, shut it silently. She would far rather have let some of her temper out and slam it shut but that would wake the whole house and the children needed their sleep. She was so cross with Fleur she didn’t know where to start.
‘I actually got arrested,’ said Fleur, trying to hide a smile by biting her bottom lip.
‘You idiot! What the hell did you think you were doing?’
Fleur crept onto one of the big chairs, pulled her feet underneath her and covered her knees with her jumper. ‘Come on, Charlie, it’s not really serious. Even the policeman laughed when I told him the story. I think he thought Knob deserved it too.’
Charlie knew that Fleur could charm anyone and a gullible policeman would not be a challenge. A quick flutter of the eyelashes and the ‘I got dumped at my own wedding’ story and he didn’t stand a chance. But Charlie was full of temper and she had to channel it somewhere.
‘They charged you, so you have a criminal record now. What happens when you want to get a job? These things hang around forever,’ said Charlie, speaking from bitter experience. ‘And what will your parents say when they find out?’
‘Knob will drop the charges when he’s calmed down and, well, Ma and Pa don’t need to know. I told them I was most likely going to be staying at a friend’s.’
‘Did you plan to get arrested?’ Charlie couldn’t control the higher-octave voice that escaped.
‘No!