Fern Britton 3-Book Collection: The Holiday Home, A Seaside Affair, A Good Catch. Fern Britton
Connie smiled. ‘A marvellous company: Johnson and Johnson. They have all the specialist gear. I’ve some left over, if you want it.’
‘Ooh, yes please, darling.’
‘They’re in the kitchen.’
On the kitchen table lay the packet of wet wipes. Connie handed them to her mother. ‘Here you go.’
*
At six thirty, Belinda came round with a large jug of Pimm’s and Emily. Henry and Dorothy were strolling over from The Bungalow at the same time.
Dorothy smiled a welcome and said, ‘Pimm’s! My favourite. Good evening, Belinda. Hello, Emily.’ The women greeted each other with kisses and Henry followed suit.
He spoke to Emily. ‘Now, young lady, have you any idea how an iPad works?’
‘Yes, of course. I haven’t got one, but I’ve used my friend’s.’
‘Ah. Could you help me with it? My daughter, Connie, tried but she’s not much better than me and she gets so impatient. Would you give me a lesson or two?’
‘Of course!’ Emily smiled.
‘Thank you. Oh, I say, look at the firepit and the table. Doesn’t that look nice. Would you sit next to me?’
The entire family were gathering round the table and Henry chose his seat at the head with Emily to his left. ‘We can watch the sunset from here. We might even see the green flash.’
She turned and stared at him. ‘Do you believe in the green flash? I mean, does it exist?’
‘Oh yes. Cornwall is full of myth and legend, but the green flash is real enough. It’s a trick of the light that sometimes happens at sunset. We might be lucky tonight.’
Francis staggered out of the kitchen and on to the terrace with an enormous bowl of cooked lobsters.
‘Frankie, why didn’t you call me. I’ll help you with that.’
Belinda was up on her feet and following Francis back to the kitchen. Pru, who was stoking the firepit, looked at Jeremy. ‘Jem, go and help your father … and you, Abi.’
The kitchen was steamy from the enormous pan of water in which the lobsters had been cooked. Francis was busy pouring his mayonnaise into a sauce boat. A small drip landed on the worktop. Belinda and he both reached for it with their tasting fingers.
‘Great minds, eh!’ laughed Belinda. She dipped her finger in and licked it lasciviously, rolling her eyes in ecstasy at the same time. ‘You are the King of Sauce, Frankie.’ Her cleavage jiggled as she laughed again at her own joke.
Abi and Jem arrived in time to witness Francis and Belinda with arms looped round each other’s shoulders, shaking with mirth.
‘Hey, Dad,’ said Jem, ‘I haven’t seen you laugh like this for ages.’
‘Yeah, unc. It, like, suits you,’ agreed Abi.
Belinda let Francis go and flicked her tea towel at Abi and Jem. The kids started laughing and a chase ensued round the kitchen table. As soon as Belinda got round to the sink, she dipped her hand in the sudsy water and began flicking them all with bubbles. Abi and Jem retaliated by picking at a bunch of grapes and chucking them at Belinda and Francis.
Pru, hearing the laughter from the garden, came to see what the joke was. They were having such a good time with their playfight, no one noticed her. Standing at the French windows, however, Pru noticed the way Francis seemed so relaxed in Belinda’s company. A tremor of fear and – jealousy? – blew into her heart. She coughed loudly and walked in. ‘Hi, guys. Having fun?’
The noise stopped and they all stood awkwardly.
‘You sort of had to be there,’ said Jem. ‘Belinda’s been splashing us.’
Pru looked at Belinda. And said flatly ‘Well, that does sound hilarious. Any chance of supper?’
Between them they loaded the garden dining table with dishes of buttery new potatoes, asparagus, salad and mayonnaise.
‘Tuck in, everyone,’ said Francis. And they did.
Slowly the sun sank lower in the sky until it was almost touching the horizon. Henry wiped his fingers clean of lobster juice and nudged Emily. ‘Keep watching the sun as it slips further down.’ Emily had never seen or noticed how quickly the sun travelled. In a few minutes there was only half of it left, then a quarter, then, at the moment it finally slipped from view, there was a definite green blink of light.
‘Oh my God! The green flash! Was that it?’
‘Yes, my dear. That was it.’
‘Wow. Cool.’
‘As you say,’ Henry chuckled, pouring her a small glass of rosé with which to celebrate. They toasted each other quietly and Belinda, watching from the other side of the table, smiled to herself.
The firepit was sending tracer sparks into the warm night air and the moon was playing peekaboo with the racing clouds.
Henry turned to Pru and raised his glass. ‘May I say, Pru, what a fine choice of husband you made all those years ago. Not only has he put up with you …’ he paused for the gratuitous laughter, ‘… he cooks like a dream. This lobster was delicious.’ He raised his glass. ‘Here’s to Francis the chef. Cheers!’
‘Cheers!’ echoed the assembled throng.
‘Uncle Francis, would you help me with the food for my birthday party?’ piped up Abi.
‘Ah!’ said Henry. ‘So the parents are letting you have the party on the beach, are they?’
‘What’s this?’ Connie, slightly tipsy, tuned in.
‘My party, Mum. My birthday’s only a week away. Jem and I have invited some people—’
‘How many people?’ Her mother tried not to slur.
‘A few friends, that’s all. For a tin of beer on the beach and some food, some music.’
‘Did I say yes to this?’ Connie tried to focus on Greg. ‘Did you say yes to this?’
Greg, in an expansive mood following his lengthy and erotic call with Janie, said, ‘What the hell, you’re only seventeen once. Yes, she can have her party. But … she’ll have to fund it herself.’
‘Oh, Daaaad.’ Abi’s face had fallen from triumph to tragedy. ‘I haven’t got any money.’
‘You have your monthly allowance.’
‘I’ve spent it.’
‘Then you’ll have to get a job.’
‘Where?’
Belinda butted in, ‘I’d be more than happy to help with the organisation. It needn’t cost a fortune.’
‘Would you?’ asked Abi hopefully.
Pru leapt in, ‘Well, that would be very kind, Belinda. Thank you. Connie and I simply won’t have the time to help as we are full on with finding a roofer and watching Merlin like a hawk while he fixes the plumbing. And, of course, neither Greg nor Francis are able bodied enough to cart party things up and down the path to the beach. So, are we all agreed? Connie?’
Connie had her head flat on the table. Greg tried to wake her, but she was in a deep wine-induced sleep.
Belinda beamed. ‘I’ll be your Uncle Francis’s kitchen helper.’
A frown crept onto Pru’s brow – had she just scored an own goal, she wondered?
Abi, however, was delighted.
‘Mum’s out for the count! Good, she won’t remember that she didn’t say yes!’
‘Don’t