A Family Holiday (4 page)

‘You’re such a drama queen! They’re only playing. Have a sense of humour, will you? Nobody’s going to get killed by mud.’

Felix looked even more irritated as he appeared to realise the uselessness of his rubbing. ‘Have you any idea how much bacteria is probably in this?’ he said, showing her the muddied kitchen roll.

‘Nope, but seeing as they play in it a lot, I’m guessing they must be immune. I do hope you don’t catch anything deadly,’ she said with a smirk.

Felix glared at her. ‘I need a shower.’

‘You can’t have one here,’ Charlie said, without thinking. After all, it was his brother’s house, he had every right to use the facilities, but right now this was Charlie’s territory and he was the invader.

Colour rose in Felix’s cheeks and he screwed up the used kitchen roll and threw it, with force, into the bin, making the muscles under his rugby shirt show up. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said as he headed for the front door, leaving a trail of muddy footprints. Charlie threw an imaginary kipper at the back of his head.

Charlie was feeling a little sweaty as she walked out of Green Park tube station and into the warm summer sunshine. She walked along Piccadilly, trying to flap air up her t-shirt to cool herself down. It was the first time Charlie had left all of the children since their parents had died and thoughts of how they were getting on filled her head.

She thought about the first time she had been here with Helen Cobley. All the years she’d lived in and around London she’d never seen the Ritz Hotel or encountered the wonders of Fortnum and Mason’s food hall or the delights of the small exclusive shops in the Burlington Arcade. She made a last-minute decision to go to Ladurée and treat the children to macarons before she met up with Fleur. The Burlington Arcade was barely out of her way and the bizarre little shop swathed in molten gold never failed to make Charlie smile – and she needed to smile right now.

With her treasure of macarons swinging gently at her side, Charlie walked down Old Bond Street and quickened her pace when she spotted Fleur pacing up and down outside the exclusive bridal shop. Fleur’s parents were super-wealthy thanks to her mother’s family money and her father’s very successful business, so this wedding was going to be the no-expense-spared variety. Charlie gave a friendly wave and Fleur stamped her foot and beckoned her closer, like a New York policewoman directing traffic.

‘You’re late, Charlie!’

Charlie glanced at her watch. ‘Three minutes!’

‘They don’t like it when you’re late,’ said Fleur, turning her back on Charlie and leading the way under the scalloped canopy and inside.

‘They don’t like me, whatever time I’m here,’ mumbled Charlie as the door triggered a disturbingly elongated buzzing noise to announce their arrival.

An overly made-up young woman appeared instantly. ‘Good Morning, Miss Van Benton, final fitting for the last of the bridesmaids,’ she said, her eyes flicking to the clock.

‘Yes, I’m sorry we’re late,’ said Fleur, with an involuntary nod towards Charlie. ‘Three minutes!’ mouthed Charlie. It seemed a funny little shop to Charlie; three wedding dresses were displayed on one wall, next to a giant arched mirror. Cream high-backed chairs, a matching chaise longue and low glass tables were strewn with designer brochures but still failed to make the place look welcoming.

‘I understand,’ said the shop assistant briskly. ‘Shall we get along?’

Charlie followed them out of the sparse room, through a narrow corridor and into a fitting room decorated like a French palace. Charlie went to place her Ladurée bag on the chaise longue, this time in a shade of deep purple, but the glare of the shop assistant made her think better of it, so at the last second relegated it to a place on the floor. The shop assistant, who Charlie remembered was called Amber, proceeded to undo probably the longest zip in the world. Charlie followed it all the way to the top of the specialist dress carrier. Instantly the insipid flesh-coloured dress poured out like something out of a horror film. It was a colour that Fleur had spent the last two months insisting was ‘peaches and cream’. Charlie swallowed hard, trying to dispel the terror she knew was written all over her face and quickly checked that Fleur wasn’t watching her. It was worse than she’d remembered.

Fleur was clapping her hands together excitedly. ‘Isn’t it simply divine?’ she said, stepping closer to it and slowly reaching out a tentative hand to touch it. Charlie couldn’t be less impressed if she tried but this was Fleur’s special day and she wanted it to be perfect for her. But this dress was pushing their long friendship to the limits.

‘It’s…’ Charlie frantically searched her tired brain for the right word and settled on the closest she could find, ‘special,’ she said.

‘Oh, you’re right. It is. Isn’t it?’ this time Fleur turned to Amber, who had now unleashed the full awfulness of the dress. Amber nodded earnestly and Charlie rolled her eyes and wondered how much you had to be paid to be that convincing to deluded strangers.

‘Do you need help getting dressed?’ offered Amber.

‘No thanks, I’ve managed all right for twenty-odd years, I think I’ll be okay,’ Charlie was aware of the dagger glances Fleur was hurling in her direction, so she quickly added, ‘but that was really kind of you to offer. Thank you.’

Amber studied Charlie’s trainers. ‘I’ll bring you some suitable heels to try on with it. That way you get the full effect,’ said Amber. ‘What size?’

‘Eight and half,’ said Charlie, but quickly altered it as a result of the look of revulsion on Amber’s face, ‘Eight is fine. Thanks.’ Amber gave a practised neutral smile and left the room.

Charlie was very pleased with herself as she had remembered to wear her best matching underwear in a soft cream. This was a big improvement on her slightly grey sports bra and her red Mickey Mouse pants that she had worn to the first fitting without having properly thought it through.

‘Before I forget, here’s your hair piece for the wedding,’ Fleur said, handing her a cord-strung bag.

‘Right. Why do I need that again?’ asked Charlie, running a hand through her mass of dark hair.

‘We’re all having seriously big up–dos, so you’ll need it. Trust me,’ said Fleur with a giggle. Charlie peered into the bag and eyed what looked like something that had been run over many times.

‘Great,’ said Charlie, using up the last of her fake enthusiasm.

Fleur hopped about excitedly while Charlie turned herself into the sugar puke fairy. Charlie stared forlornly at herself in the giant mirror. It was difficult to tell where the dress ended and where Charlie started. The only bit that obviously wasn’t Charlie was the obscene number of layers in the skirt. If it got too much on the day she could always smuggle all four of the children out underneath it, she thought.

‘What are you thinking?’ asked Fleur.

How fabulous you will look compared to me in this, I look like a negative of Barbie
, but what she actually said was, ‘How lovely we’ll all look.’

‘You should have seen Tilly in hers. She looked totally stunning. I’m not standing too close to her!’ squealed Fleur.

Tilly was another of Fleur’s bridesmaids and her best friend from the very posh private school they had both attended. Tilly had an olive complexion and neat straight caramel hair so stood a fighting chance in the dress, unlike Charlie with her pale skin and mop of unruly black curls – she looked beyond anaemic in the dress.

Amber announced her presence and came back in. She handed Charlie some sling-back pinpoint high heels for her to balance on and proceeded to stalk around her like a wolf surveying its prey. ‘Have you lost weight?’ she asked with a disbelieving look.

‘Might have done. Don’t know. I don’t weigh myself regularly.’ Come to think of it, Charlie had noticed that she’d had to do up the belt on her jeans another notch. Amber fussed around the waist and shoulders and tutted to herself. She grabbed a handful of dress at the back and nearly pulled Charlie off the silly little pin heels.

‘Steady on!’ said Charlie, resisting the urge to clout Amber.

‘Sorry. But look at this, it’s all excess,’ she indicated the mass of material in her fist.

‘You really should have let us know if you were dieting. This will have to be altered.’ Charlie started to protest, but Fleur was already wincing with embarrassment so she stopped and shrugged instead. At a guess the stress of everything must have impacted her weight.

‘Can you do it in time for the wedding?’ asked Fleur in a small voice and Charlie instantly felt for her. This wedding mattered so much to her. Charlie couldn’t imagine getting that caught up in something. It wasn’t healthy, but she sympathised with Fleur all the same. Amber was sucking in air though her teeth like a car mechanic shortly before they tell you that your car is terminally ill.

‘We’ll do our best, but it is a very busy time of year.’

‘We need to know a definite yes or no,’ said Charlie firmly.

‘I should think so,’ offered Amber, but seeing the glint in Charlie’s eye she added, ‘Yes. Of course Miss Van Benton, we won’t let you down.’

Fleur started to breathe properly again. Amber fussed some more and used the thinly veiled excuse of marking where alterations were needed, to stick pins in Charlie. When she’d finished she gave Charlie a last once-over. ‘I take it you’ll be getting rid of those t-shirt tan lines with a spray tan? Otherwise it will detract from the dress.’

It was all Charlie could do not to batter her with the Ladurée macarons, but they simply weren’t heavy enough to do a proper job.

‘I bought macarons,’ said Charlie, placing the bag on the table and suddenly commanding the full attention of every child. The children oohed and aahed as they opened the large box and studied the intensely coloured contents. Ted grabbed a pistachio green macaroon, stuffed it in whole and slid off the sofa. He gave Charlie a nudge and she followed him out of the room and downstairs into the kitchen.

Ted slumped against the wall and casually crossed his legs. He glanced at Charlie through his fringe. I must take these children to a hairdresser, she thought.

‘Thought you should know that Elle was crying again,’ said Ted, his voice flat.

‘Right, what did you do?’

He shrugged. ‘Just hugged her and fed her ice-cream.’

‘Good call,’ said Charlie with a smile.

‘And Granddad Roger rang and someone called Jonathan too, but he mumbled a lot.’

‘Right, thanks,’ said Charlie, as a thought struck her. Perhaps Roger could be the guardian? He was family and, unlike Ruth, he liked Charlie. Perhaps Roger was the answer to their problems and she started to think about how she could broach this with him, the solicitors and Social Services.

A bundle of screams came flying down the stairs with Wriggly in the lead. He appeared to be wearing a pink tutu and he was carrying something black and hairy in his mouth. Charlie’s first thought was that it was a rat, but she quickly dismissed it as she’d never seen a longhaired rat and Wriggly simply wasn’t that brave. That stupid, perhaps, but certainly not that brave. As he came past Charlie’s feet she grabbed him and he went into wriggle overdrive.

‘Charlie we couldn’t stop him, honest,’ said Eleanor breathlessly.

‘What is it?’ said Charlie, trying to part Wriggly from the mass of black. ‘It’s my hair piece for the wedding!’ she said, as realisation dawned and she gave one more tug to free most of it from Wriggly’s jaw. He started frantically trying to spit out the stray pieces that had been left behind. Charlie put the dog down and surveyed the hairpiece. It was now a ball of knotted hair.

‘Oh God, I’ll look like a budget Amy Winehouse impersonator!’

‘Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!’ chanted Millie happily.

Fleur was the epitome of the beautiful bride. She glided down the stairs in her designer gown to greet her beamingly proud father. He’d been waiting patiently in the entrance hall of their modernised farmhouse. Fleur’s hair had been expertly crafted into an elegantly sculptured up-do or, as George had put it, a pile of ginger horse poos. Charlie wasn’t proud of the fact that she’d paid him five pounds not to repeat the phrase in front of Millie, but it seemed the best option.

A kindly, but foolish, cousin of Fleur’s had offered to take Ted, George and Millie to the church, so that Charlie was able to be part of the wedding party and fulfil her duties as bridesmaid. There had been some consternation from the children about attending the wedding and Charlie had agonised at first over whether it was the right thing to do, given the recent tragedy. But she knew that the sooner the children started to do normal things, rather than being shut up in the house all day, the sooner they would be able to manage their grief and start to carry on with their lives.

The wedding had given them all something else to focus on and, although for Ted and George that was mainly moaning about having to wear a suit and tie, it was at least something a little jollier. Eleanor was still quiet but a last-minute decision by Fleur to make her a flower girl had given her a definite boost that Charlie was very grateful for. A simple cream-satin dress had been purchased and the posh bridal shop had couriered across a sash in the same pasty colour as the bridesmaids’ dresses and it was now tied around Eleanor’s waist with a neat bow at the back.

Eleanor’s warm hand snaked its way around Charlie’s fingers and she squeezed it gently and felt the squeeze returned. Charlie looked down at Eleanor and felt a lump in her throat at the sight of the little girl smiling up at her. But with the sound of heels on polished parquet their attention was drawn back to the bride.

‘Fleur, you look like a princess!’ blurted out Eleanor excitedly and Fleur flushed with pleasure.

‘She’s right,’ said Mr Van Benton, ‘you are truly beautiful. I am a very proud father today,’ he said, his tone surprisingly even given the emotion in his eyes. Fleur forgot her composure and hugged her father tightly, letting him go and then embracing her mother, who was already dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

‘I was hoping I wouldn’t have to use that,’ said her mother, folding it neatly and returning it to her Chanel clutch bag. ‘Now we’d best be off. Come on, bridesmaids,’ said Mrs Van Benton, linking arms with Fleur’s sister Polly, ‘and of course flower girls too, they’re very important,’ added Mrs Van Benton, catching sight of Eleanor’s face. Charlie stood for a moment and looked at Fleur, who was now straightening her dress after its crushing experience in her parents’ arms. Fleur instinctively looked up and beamed at Charlie, who gave a little sigh and returned the smile.

‘Go on, get going. I was hoping to have a glass of champagne with Pa before we have to leave.’

‘Na, uh,’ said Charlie, shaking her head, ‘you can’t go staggering down the aisle,’ although
I
probably will in these silly heels, she thought. Fleur came over and hugged Charlie.

‘I’ll be fine. Now go!’

Charlie had missed the rehearsals for obvious reasons, but she was familiar with the local church as it sat virtually in the town centre. It was, however, the first time Eleanor had seen it and she was suitably impressed. The magnificent oak-timbered spire had her looking like she had a flip-top head as she craned backwards to see it.

‘It’s lovely, it’s like the one at Disney but not as brightly coloured,’ said Eleanor.

‘The one at Disney is a castle,’ pointed out Charlie.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Eleanor, still staring at the building, ‘it’s nearly as lovely, though.’

‘Yes, it is lovely.’

‘I love you, Charlie,’ said Eleanor as she got out of the car, leaving Charlie a little stunned. She quickly composed herself and stepped out.

‘Straighten up a little, Charlie,’ said Mrs Van Benton gently. ‘There, you look perfect,’ she said with a smile. Charlie suddenly felt emotional and had to give herself a stern talking-to to keep things in check. She knew that Fleur’s mother was only being kind. Charlie’s hair was behaving itself after a master craftsman from a top salon had wrestled it into submission and pinned it into a neat pleat with the required tumbling tendrils at the front and thankfully without the need for the Wriggly-chewed road-kill wig. However fabulous her hair looked the dress still made her look like she was sickening for something.

There was a little breeze but the sun was out and any clouds were politely darting across the sky without, for a change, causing any fear of rain. Guests appeared to have taken the arrival of the bridesmaids to mean that it was time to go inside. After a few photographs and the usual comments, guests started to be devoured by the church. The vicar was standing outside with the bridegroom, who had scrubbed up very well indeed. His usually shaven head had a couple of weeks of hair growth on it, making him look less like he had undergone nit-prevention measures. He waved enthusiastically when he saw them and jogged over.

‘Mum!’ he said, giving Mrs Van Benton a kiss on the cheek. She smiled and her cheeks flushed. Rob would most likely not have been her first choice of husband for her youngest daughter but despite his rough-diamond persona he was quite sweet and when Fleur made up her mind about something it was pointless to argue – it only made her more determined. Charlie felt that the family had hoped that it would fizzle out with Rob as it had with the other odd choices of boyfriend Fleur had made, but unfortunately this had snowballed very quickly into a full blown fairy tale and now here they were at the climax.

‘Ladies!’ he said, turning to the three bridesmaids with outstretched arms, ‘Poppy, Tilly, Charles,’ he said to them in turn, ‘you look divine.’ There was a likeability factor to Rob. He wasn’t a naturally charming person but there was something about him that drew you in. Unfortunately, Charlie had already had to have a word with him about his keenness to continue to share that loveable side with his ex-girlfriend but hopefully he was a man of his word and things would change after today.

‘You look smart,’ said Charlie, stifling the urge to joke about him usually only being in a suit for court appearances but that would only embarrass Mrs Van Benton and Charlie was too fond of her to do that. Instead, she concentrated on showing Eleanor how to hold her flowers so that the stalks didn’t show.

‘I take it Fleur’s on her way?’ he said, sounding a little less confident.

‘Yes, they’ll be setting off in approximately seven minutes,’ said Mrs Van Benton checking her Cartier wristwatch.

‘Shouldn’t you be inside?’ asked Tilly.

‘What? Imprisoned for being too handsome?’ joked Rob. Charlie gave him a look. ‘You are absolutely right.’ He gave each of them brief air kisses and a flash of his cheeky grin before bounding towards the church. The thing with Rob was that he was rough around the edges, he hadn’t had the best upbringing and he was feckless, but he wasn’t bad. He just looked a little bit like he was, but Charlie guessed that was exactly why Fleur was attracted to him.

The vintage Rolls Royce swung in front of the church as the bridesmaids and flower girl stood in a line behind the low chain and wood-stake fence. The organ was barely audible as the delicate sound carried through the open doors of the church. A small group of well-wishers and nosey shoppers stood nearby and a smattering of applause went up as Mr Van Benton helped Fleur from the car.

‘This is it,’ said Fleur, with a grin, and Poppy and Tilly squealed excitedly.

‘Are you ready?’ asked her father.

‘Absolutely. Let’s get married!’ she said, and linked her arm through his.

Charlie followed them, with Eleanor gripping her hand through excitement and hard concentration. The wedding was doing her the world of good. As the organist broke into the opening bars of ‘Here Comes the Bride’, Mr Van Benton gave Fleur a kiss on top of her head and they entered the church.

Charlie and Eleanor kept pace a short distance behind them and turned to walk down the aisle. Charlie could see the smiling vicar standing at the front of the church and the back of Rob’s stubbled head. Then, over to the left, about halfway down, she saw the children. Millie was standing on the pew, looking angelic in a purple dress with a layered full skirt and a daisy hair band. Ted stood next to her, with a cautious hand hovering nearby ready to catch her if she fell or, more likely, jumped. George was looking bored. Charlie’s heart swelled at the sight of them and she gave a little sigh of relief that they were all fine. Millie started to wave as soon as she saw Charlie and to point excitedly towards the vicar.

‘Look Charlie, it’s God!’ she shouted.

Charlie and Mr Van Benton had been enjoying the reception but were now silently sipping wine watching the body language as the bride and groom had their first row as husband and wife.

‘How could you do this? Now! Today! What’s wrong with you?’ screeched Fleur, as she wiped away a tear of temper.

‘Ah, Babe, I thought it best to tell you. You know, I wanted to start the marriage with a clean slate, no surprises. It’s a good thing.’

‘No, it isn’t! Why didn’t you tell me this morning?’

‘In case you overreacted and then you wouldn’t have had your dream wedding. I couldn’t let anything get in the way of today, now could I?’ Rob’s attempts at reasoning were not getting him far.

‘But this does get in the way! I told you to choose and it looks like you haven’t chosen me. So it’s over, Rob.’

Charlie realised that the argument must be about Rob’s recent activity with his ex-girlfriend and she tottered over in her stupid high heels. She slammed a hand onto Rob’s shoulder. ‘What did I say to you?’

‘Now, Charlie Boy, don’t you go sticking your finger in the plug socket. This isn’t anything for you to get involved in, okay?’ He tried to convey something with his eyes.

‘Charlie, please!’ pleaded Fleur and, after a pause, where Rob stared pointedly at Charlie’s invading hand, she reluctantly stepped back.

 ‘Come on, Babe, you don’t want to miss the surprise I have for you tonight and I don’t just mean the bedroom jousting,’ grinned Rob. Charlie screwed her face up. Didn’t jousting involve long poles and horses? Fleur’s face softened a little and Charlie became worried. If Fleur backed down now she could be a doormat forever. Fleur was a rich girl at heart and whatever she said about wanting the simple things in life, and her choice in men was testament to this, she could wobble if Rob had booked the wedding night somewhere stunning like the Savoy or, worse still, Browns.

‘It doesn’t actually make a difference,’ said Fleur unconvincingly, ‘but where is it? I may as well know.’

‘You wanted something special, right?’ said Rob, looking exceedingly smug as Fleur nodded. ‘And there’s always somewhere that you talk about that you loved to go to, right?’ Still no breath was drawn and Charlie was now crossing her fingers. Please don’t let it be Browns. ‘I found this awesome little B and B in Great Yarmouth!’ And, with that, Rob took a wet kipper to the head as well as Fleur’s right fist to his chin.

Mr Van Benton surprisingly came to Rob’s rescue and instructed Fleur to stop. He had a very clear view of the world, and of right and wrong, and whatever Rob had done, in his eyes, didn’t warrant any violence on Fleur’s part.

‘That hurt,’ said Rob rubbing his chin. ‘I thought you loved that place! You always talk about how you used to have lovely summers there when you were a child.’ He smiled at Fleur’s mother. Mrs Van Benton had now silently manoeuvred herself to be next to Fleur.

‘I liked it when I was four! I liked it when I was into making sandcastles and going on teacup rides!’ said Fleur, her voice rising again. ‘Not for my bloody, buggery wedding night!’

‘Fleur, dear, language please,’ implored her mother. Charlie stood the other side of Fleur and gently rubbed her back.

‘To be honest, Fleur, that was actually quite a nice thought… for Rob,’ said Charlie, who was immensely relieved that it wasn’t a posh London hotel he’d chosen. Poppy Van Benton appeared in a flurry of pallid bridesmaid’s dress.

‘Sis! What’s happened?’ The assembled support group all looked in Rob’s direction. He was now trying to reason with Fleur from a slightly safer distance. As nobody was providing Poppy with an explanation, Charlie stepped in.

‘Rob is still seeing that Sophie girl, even after I told him I would have his gentleman’s vegetables for earrings and guess what as a matching pendant. That still holds true, by the way,’ said Charlie, glaring at Rob. Rob was now shaking his head vigorously, which didn’t surprise Charlie. He was bound to deny that Charlie had bumped into him outside a tube station kissing his meant-to-be ex-girlfriend, Sophie.

‘What!’ spluttered Fleur, dragging her tear-stained face away from her mother’s now-make-up-smeared Chanel ensemble.

‘What?’ repeated Charlie, feeling that odd sensation in her stomach when something is not quite adding up but you know that it should be. She looked at Rob, who was scratching his head nervously.

‘I told Fleur that I’m going on tour, with the Headless Rodents,’ said Rob, fishing business cards out of his suit pocket and handing them round, and wisely missing out Fleur for fear of another punch.

‘Your pop group?’ asked Mrs Van Benton, taking the card.

‘It’s more indie rock, Mrs VB, but yeah. We’ve got this opportunity to support that Goth group that came fourth in a TV Talent show, so we jumped at it and we leave in a few weeks. Couple of visa issues need sorting out first and then we’re off. This could be our big break,’ he said, turning his best appealing eyes onto Fleur.

Charlie’s unease was steadily growing. She knew that Rob and his merry band of equally feckless individuals were talking to some agent but she hadn’t thought for a moment that it would ever come to anything. She had instantly assumed that Rob’s recent return to the expertly tattooed arms of Sophie was the cause for the outburst.

‘You’re still seeing Sophie?’ A little spit flew in his direction as Fleur literally spat out the words as she pointed at Rob. She spun round, almost knocking over her mother ‘And you knew,’ she said, jabbing a close-range finger at Charlie. Mrs Van Benton gasped in time to the finger-pointing and Charlie felt her stomach do a triple salchow.