A Family Holiday (11 page)

‘Quite a lot of pent-up aggression, so not really my type after all.’

‘Steve the window cleaner, who clearly didn’t apply the same level of cleaning to himself as he did the windows?’

‘A bit clingy.’

‘Do you see a theme here?’

‘No, not at all. All very different and not suitable for a long-term relationship for different reasons.’

‘Or – all manual workers, a bit of rough, call it what you like and whatever you say you got bored with them.’

Charlie’s phone started to ring and seeing that it was Camille’s number she walked away from the stables before answering it.

Felix was back home, where the air was clean and warm. The food was being passed around the table like some elaborate game as everyone dived into the meal. The chatter was boisterous and happy. Felix watched the way they interacted with each other with such ease. A mixture of friends was gathered together for no apparent reason other than to share a meal. There was lots of teasing and an abundance of laughter. He was usually part of this but today he felt like an outsider. As if he was separated from them and only observing. His mind was filled with thoughts of his own family, those that had gone and those few left behind, and he hated himself for dwelling on decisions that could not be undone. The children were better off without him and he knew he should keep it that way, so why was it all he could think about?

As the meal ended and people moved outside, Felix found himself sitting on the decking tuning in and out of the lively debate about fishing that was going on behind him. He was back where he belonged, where he was happiest, but things had changed. The trip to London had made his brother’s death very real and perhaps the feelings he had now were simply part of the grieving process. He wanted to feel happy and carefree again but it felt just out of reach, like George and his Frisbee, he thought, with a smile.

Felix sighed to himself and took out the yo-yo. It felt sticky in his hand. He hadn’t noticed until now that he was sweating. The rhythm of the yo-yo was usually soothing but tonight it wasn’t working its magic. He really wasn’t good company this evening so he made his apologies and left.

It was dark as he walked down to the water’s edge. He breathed deeply, letting the scent of the sea engulf his lungs and calm his muddled thoughts. The sea reminded him of his place in the world and that place was right here – and he repeated it over and over in his head like a mantra.

‘Hi Camille, is everything okay?’ Charlie knew social workers were often dedicated but to call on a Saturday seemed unusual.

‘Hi Charlie, I’m sorry to call but I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Charlie could sense Camille’s unease and immediately she felt apprehensive herself.

‘It’s about the fostering application. You’ve ticked the box for criminal convictions and your record shows that it was for actual bodily harm.’

‘But I thought Ruth had already told you,’ said Charlie, as her body went hot and cold in quick succession.

‘No, she had a lot to say but she didn’t mention any convictions.’ Charlie was surprised that Ruth hadn’t seized that opportunity and now wished she hadn’t been quite so honest on her application form. But either way, she knew they would have found out eventually.

‘But it was years ago, Camille, surely that’s not going to affect things now…’

‘I’m sorry, Charlie, serious convictions don’t disappear. I’m sure you have changed as a person but ABH is a violent crime. Your fostering application would have to go through additional processes and it’s unlikely to be approved. I would recommend that we don’t progress this.’

Charlie clutched the phone as she paced up and down. She didn’t know what to say, she was utterly devastated.

When the call ended, Charlie stared at the screen for a few moments before shoving it into her jeans pocket. How could the answer to all their problems have been whipped away in such a short call? Charlie wished she had realised all those years ago the long-term repercussions of her actions, but now it was too late.

‘Problem?’ asked Fleur.

‘You won’t think so,’ sighed Charlie.

‘Whatever it is, I’m sure we can fix it,’ said Fleur, very unconvincingly.

Charlie snorted. ‘They’ve declined my fostering application… because of the conviction. We’re back to square one. But it’s worse than square one because at some point I’ll have to tell Ted that our last straw has been decimated by my crappy past.’

Fleur gave Charlie a hug, which she reluctantly accepted. ‘It’ll be all right. I know you don’t believe me,’ said Fleur hastily as she saw Charlie’s reaction, ‘but maybe it’s for the best. There’s plenty of time to be a mum and have children of your own when you’re ready.’ Charlie didn’t have the energy to remonstrate with Fleur and her inimitable optimism, it was simply too tiring. Charlie felt as if her final spark had been extinguished.

‘I can’t be a mum,’ she said flatly.

‘I don’t know anyone better qualified!’

‘I mean, I physically can’t be a mum.’ Fleur showed a complete lack of comprehension, so Charlie continued. ‘You remember when I had a ruptured appendix when I was seventeen?’

‘Yes, you nearly died. We came to visit you in hospital.’

‘It wasn’t my appendix. It was a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. They had to remove my fallopian tube and it turns out that was the only one I had.’

Fleur looked dazed. ‘That’s why your scar was in a different place than Poppy’s.’ She paused. ‘And that means you can’t have children.’ Fleur looked like she had lots of questions she wanted to ask, but she knew Charlie well and instead pulled her into a tight hug and rocked her gently until the children came running out of the stables laughing loudly.

‘Ralphy done a hoooooge poo!’ announced Millie before collapsing into hysterics.

The afternoon was a happy one for the children, with the girls taking turns to ride Ralph, who was surprisingly good-natured with people considering his bullying behaviour towards poor Clyde. The boys had a lesson each on Clyde and Ted even took him over a small jump, which he was obviously thrilled about but didn’t show a flicker of emotion for fear of looking uncool – or whatever it was fifteen-year-old boys called it this week.

Charlie found herself lost in her own thoughts. The past she had tried so hard to bury was at last coming back to haunt her. All the years she had spent in foster care, all the rows, the strangers and the anger washed over her and made her scalp prickle. The pregnancy had been a shock at the time, but she remembered being puzzled by the elation she had felt when she’d seen the pregnancy test turn positive. For a few short weeks she’d imagined being a little family of two, just her and the baby. She’d loved that little ball of cells more than anything else in her life, but in an instant it was all over and everyone was telling her what a lucky escape she’d had.

All she had ever dreamed of was a proper family and time after time her hopes had been dashed either by others or by her own self-destruct button. The Cobleys had offered her a job, but what they had actually given her was a place in their family. Any doubts she may have had about fostering the children long-term had gone, but sadly so too had that option.

‘Here,’ said Fleur, handing Charlie her mobile phone, which Charlie took cautiously and looked at the photo on the screen.

‘Who’s this?’ she asked, already guessing the answer as she studied the picture of a gormless youth wearing dirty outdoor clothing and looking like the evidence for the cautionary tale of what happens when cousins marry. He had cropped hair and the matching stubble on his chin made Charlie think that his head could go on either way up. She even tilted the phone a little to prove the point to herself. It was quite fascinating.

‘What do you think?’ said Fleur, doing a little jig.

‘I’m guessing it’s Duggan.’

‘You’re right!’ Fleur looked genuinely surprised.

‘Oh Fleur, here we go again.’

‘Excuse me?’ said Fleur in mock shock as she reclaimed her phone from Charlie, who was tilting it upside down again.

‘Okay, who am I?’ said Charlie, ‘I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love… I’m bored. He’s dumped… Ooh, I’m in love, I’m in love… you get the idea,’ said Charlie, stopping the accompanying Disney Princess facial expressions and hand gestures that had come with the short game of charades.

‘Actually, you have a cruel streak, you do,’ said Fleur, giving Charlie a nudge in the back with a bony elbow.

‘Frighteningly accurate, though, wasn’t it?’

Mrs Van Benton arrived home mid-afternoon and set about making dinner for everyone. Charlie saw how she kept a watchful eye on Fleur, who was doing a great job of playing a multitude of games with the children so that Charlie could have a cup of tea in peace.

‘Those poor little mites,’ said Mrs Van Benton half to herself. Charlie nodded. ‘What a to-do. Fleur says this aunt is a monstrous woman. I knew Helen had a sister but she rarely talked about her.’ Charlie sipped her tea. She didn’t know what to say. She was fast running out of options, so it would seem that the monstrous woman was all she had left.

‘She might not be so bad. I need to give her a proper chance really,’ said Charlie, being far more charitable than she felt.

‘Well, as long as she does the same.’

‘I think she’s made her mind up about me already. People do,’ said Charlie with a practised shrug.

‘Look, Charlie,’ said Mrs Van Benton, turning to face her, ‘I don’t care if I embarrass you. I’ve watched you grow up. Heaven knows, you haven’t had it easy, but you’ve turned out to be a lovely young woman,’ and she kissed Charlie on the top of her head as she was en route to the fridge.

‘Doesn’t change the past, though, does it?’ said Charlie.

Mr Van Benton arrived home in time for dinner and the oversized table was burdened with a variety of home-cooked favourites rustled up expertly at a moment’s notice by Mrs Van Benton. Bowls of spaghetti, a variety of sauces, garlic focaccia and salad in a variety of coloured dishes littered the giant white tablecloth. Eleanor was keen to serve herself but Charlie kept a watchful eye whilst she sorted out Millie, who was shaking her head at everything.

‘Millie, you have to choose something to eat. How about some salad?’

‘Don’t eat leaves,’ said Millie with a firm shake of her head. After more persuasion she eventually settled on bolognaise sauce on the focaccia. It wasn’t ideal but, if it kept her happy, it was the least of Charlie’s worries.

‘There’s a message on the answerphone for you,’ said Mr Van Benton to Fleur.

Fleur looked a little puzzled until recognition struck. ‘We were down at the stables. Anyone exciting?’

‘Yes, actually I think it is,’ said her father, taking a large forkful of his pasta and exchanging glances with his wife. Mrs Van Benton paused with a neatly spun fork of spaghetti carbonara inches from her lips.

‘Go on,’ urged Fleur, who was probably worrying in case it was a message from Duggan.

‘It was a solicitor… from Sedgely, something and someone. Jonathan…’

‘Steeple?’ said Charlie, putting down her fork with a clatter, which instantly stopped the giggling from the other end of the table. Fleur went a little pink.

‘You all said I needed to sort things out for myself and I have. I went to see Jonathan… Mr Steeple and he advised an annulment, which is going through.’

Charlie was looking less accusatory.

‘Sorry, Charlie, I saw the business card and took it. I should have asked,’ said Fleur.

‘It’s okay, I’m glad he could help,’ said Charlie.

Fleur’s father’s face was full of pride and he conveyed it to his daughter with a simple look and she smiled in response. Mrs Van Benton appeared to be tearing up as she finally delivered the carbonara to its destination now a little cooler than it had been a couple of minutes ago.

The distraction had provided the perfect opportunity for Millie to undertake a little artwork involving the once-white tablecloth and a handful of bolognaise. But Mrs Van Benton seemed too pleased with her youngest daughter’s developments to worry about the state of her table linen.

With the younger children suitably exhausted and settled in bed Charlie picked up the packages that had been minding their own business in the hall for too long. She went through to the lounge, flopped into a chair and started to open them. The first one was the computer game for Eleanor’s friend, the second was more than a bit of a shock. Charlie had ripped it open and inside was a glossy cardboard wallet and a letter. On the front of the letter was a sticky note. It read – ‘Dear Mr & Mrs Cobley, Enclosed are your travel documents for your forthcoming family holiday to Antigua. Thanks again for booking with us. We hope you have an amazing time. Jayne.’

Charlie had thumbed through the contents of the wallet and, sure enough, there were details of flight tickets for all of them, including herself, and a leaflet about a place called Wild Cane Villa that had been booked for the first four weeks of the school summer holidays. There was also a credit card receipt for the balance of the holiday dated a couple of weeks before the Cobleys had had their accident. Charlie’s heart was racing as she bundled it all back into the envelope and rammed it at the back of a drawer in the cabinet. Right now she couldn’t think about the tickets because she knew anything involving them could never end well.

Late that evening, Charlie found herself having another difficult conversation with Ted, who, as usual, wasn’t keen to engage in anything that didn’t involve music or shooting people through a television screen.

‘Look, Ted, I’m so sorry, but there’s a problem with my application to foster,’ Ted looked bored and continued to concentrate on aiming at the car trying to escape from him on the screen. She carried on. ‘When I was younger I did some stuff I’m not proud of and because of that they won’t progress the application.’

Ted sat up and looked decidedly more interested, but not enough to actually stop playing. ‘Is this what Ruthless was on about?’ Charlie nodded. ‘What did you do?’

‘Just stuff,’ she shrugged, feeling awkward and ashamed.

‘No. There’s no way you get away with saying ‘just stuff’. Come on, spill,’ he said, for once looking wide-eyed and eager to hear all the gory details. He pressed pause and dropped the controller onto the bed.

‘The short version is that I had a temper. Years ago I used to get into these rages and… I couldn’t control it, so it got out of hand. There’s nothing to worry about, I’m fine now, and I can control it rather than it controlling me.’

‘So what did you do? Did you kill someone?’ Ted was learning forward and looked extremely excited at the prospect.

‘Yeah,’ said Charlie, her shoulders slumping down together as she spoke. ‘I murdered this kid that played computer games all day. I battered his head in with his controller.’

‘Really?’ said Ted, his eyes wider than a bush baby.

‘No! Of course not. Christ, you’re gullible.’ Ted was visibly disappointed. ‘I hit a few people and I got into fights and was arrested a few times. Eventually I got charged, so now I have a criminal record.’ Charlie was feeling the need to hang her head so she forced it back into an unnaturally rigid pose. ‘It turned out to be the best thing that could have happened because it was the shock I needed to get some help and sort myself out.’

‘What does it mean for the foster thing exactly?’ said Ted and Charlie thought she had sadly probably gone up in his estimation for not being the total goody-goody he had assumed she was.

‘It means I can’t be your foster parent. So we have no plan B. I’m really sorry but I don’t know what else I can do,’ said Charlie, raking her hands through her hair and making it look slightly wilder.

‘I don’t get what you’re stressing about, Charlie,’ said Ted, slumping back on his bed, ‘like you said that was plan B. We’ll just do plan A; Ruth is guardian, you are the nanny. What’s the problem?’

Charlie was determined that she wasn’t going to flip out with Ted, even though the tiredness and panic were goading her.

‘Ted, it’s serious. I don’t want to worry you, but… look, trust me that we need to think of another plan.’

‘I think you need to chill.’

‘I think you need to wake up! You have no idea what could happen. You’ve had a charmed life being spoiled by people that love you and you expect someone to work everything out for you because that’s what always happens. But not this time!’

‘I don’t call losing your parents ‘a charmed life’!’ shouted Ted as he was about to make a dramatic exit, but Charlie stood in front of the door and blocked his way.

‘Ted, I can’t sort this out,’ said Charlie as calmly as she could.

‘Well, go on then, leave. We’ll get another au pair.’ He knew the phrase would irritate her a little more. Perhaps he was intrigued to see if he could spark this temper that had marred her past.

‘And where do you think you’ll all end up? Hey? Ruth is only interested in the money. She doesn’t give a stuff about you. Heck she barely knows all your names! When it all starts getting in the way of her life she’ll hand you all over to Social Services.’

Ted looked suitably shocked but carried on the argument all the same, ‘Maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll get someone to do a better job than you.’ He reached for the door handle, but Charlie stepped in front of it.

‘
Maybe
she will get someone better, like that Norland Nanny, because she has no intention of caring for you herself. And when you get too much for too many nannies you’ll become Social Services’ problem. And
maybe
you will be too difficult to place together so you’ll go to separate foster homes. And
maybe
you, Ted, will end up in a home for teens, where you live on your wits waiting for someone with more problems than you to beat the crap out of you. But that’ll only be until you get booted out onto your arse at eighteen to fend for yourself.’ Charlie’s voice was a low snarl and her hands were shaking uncontrollably. ‘Yeah, you hold onto ‘maybe’ Ted, because maybe it won’t happen, but let me tell you that sometimes… sometimes it does.’ She stepped aside and waited for Ted to charge out, but Ted was looking as though someone had hit him full in the face with a large wet kipper.