Isle of Waves (22 page)

“None of you have welcomed Fee into the family. Even Sam—especially Sam, who likes everyone. The only person who’s been halfway decent to her is Liam.”

Fiona looked acutely embarrassed. “Colin, it’s all right,” she said, but stopped when Mattie sighed.

“Colin’s right. It’s not fair on you. We just didn’t get time to get over Lisa before Fiona arrived.” She looked at Fiona. “I’m sorry, dear. Welcome to the family.”

Fiona nodded and swallowed hard. “Thank you, Mrs. Owens.”

“Mattie. Call me Mattie, or Mum.”

“I have a Mum, but I’d love to call you Mattie.” Fiona disentangled herself from Colin and got up to give Mattie a hug.

“Hey, it’s about time there was another girl in the family.” Jim awkwardly patted Fiona’s shoulder and then huffed as Fiona hugged him.

Wig caught Liam’s eye and nodded to the kitchen. Liam looked puzzled, but he kissed Sam on the cheek and followed Wig into the kitchen.

“Is everything all right?” Liam asked.

“Has anyone phoned Olaf to let him know about Rose?”

Liam looked mortified. “Hell, no, I forgot. Should we call him now?”

“I think so. Olaf needs to get his head out of his arse. Paul’s hanging on by a thread. He needs Olaf.”

“I’ll call him now.” Liam fished his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts.

Wig pretended to wipe an already spotless counter while Liam waited for Skandik to answer the phone.

“Hey, Olaf. Yes, everything’s okay, well not okay, it’s just….”

“Oh give it to me.” Wig held out his hand for the mobile phone.

Liam handed it over.

“Olaf, it’s Wig.”

“Wig,” Olaf sounded startled. “What’s happened? Is Paul okay?”

“Paul’s fine. It’s Rose. She passed away this afternoon.”

“Oh no. I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes. You can pull your head out of your arse and tell Paul you were being a prat.”

“A prat? That isn’t anything good, is it?”

“It means that you are going to call your boyfriend now and look after him.”

“Wig, I know you mean well, but….”

“No fucking buts. Call him,” Wig insisted.

“I’m at work. I’m not off for hours.”

“Then call him as soon as you can.”

“I’ll try. And Wig, tell Mattie and Jim I’m sorry.”

“I will.” Wig disconnected the call and looked at Liam. “It’s up to him now.”

“Do you think he’ll call?”

Wig shrugged. “He wants to. I could hear it in his voice. But will he? I don’t know.”

“It’s not easy for him.”

“Olaf can make all the excuses he wants, but if he lets Paul down, then he’s not the man I thought he was.”

“Guys, is everything okay?” Nibs poked his head around the door.

“We’re fine.” Wig smiled at his partner. “Does anyone need anything?”

“I’ll ask.” Nibs frowned. “Are you sure everything’s all right? Why do I get the feeling you’ve been plotting something?”

“Because you know me too well.” Wig deliberately didn’t say anything more, knowing it would drive Nibs mad.

Nibs folded his arms. “And?”

“And what, babe?” Wig was so good at playing innocent.

“If you don’t tell me what you’ve been planning I’m going to put you over my knee and tan your behind.”

“Promises, promises!”

“I… uh… think I’ll go back to Sam.” Liam edged around Nibs and fled the scene.

Wig couldn’t blame him. If they’d been on their own, Nibs would have followed through on his threat.

“So what were you doing?” Nibs pushed Wig against the counter with one meaty hand.

“Talking to Olaf and telling him to get his head out of his arse.”

Nibs looked surprised. “Didn’t anyone ring him already?”

“We’ve all been too busy. He promised to call Paul when he gets a chance. He’s at work at the moment.”

Nibs tucked his knuckle under Wig’s chin and drew him in for a kiss. “You’re a good man, Wig.”

“I know.”

Nibs popped his butt, then wrapped his arms around Wig and pulled him closer. Wig stood up on tiptoes and pressed himself in for another kiss.

“God, I love you,” Wig said.

“I love you too.” Nibs cupped Wig’s arse and kissed him deep and dirty until Wig’s thighs trembled.

“Whoops, sorry to interrupt.”

Wig turned his head to see Mattie in the doorway, looking very apologetic.

“Sorry, guys, I just wanted to say we’re off.”

Nibs let Wig down, but Wig had to lean against him before his legs would hold him steady.

“We’ll see you tomorrow?” Nibs asked.

“Probably. I’m not sure what’s happening yet. Are you sure you can cope with us descending on you again? Jim’s settled the bill with Ben for tonight.” She held her hand up as Wig and Nibs started to speak. “It’s not up for negotiation. You paid for the wedding reception food; you’ve given Liam a job. We’re paying for this.”

“Come on, Mum. Dad’s getting impatient.” Colin grinned over her shoulder at Wig and Nibs who were still entangled. “Couldn’t wait five more minutes, huh?”

Nibs sighed and looked down at Wig. “Let’s go say good-bye.”

“Sure.” Wig tugged him down for one more kiss, and they went back into the restaurant.

O
NCE
AGAIN
their living room was full of Owens siblings and partners. Colin, Fiona, and Dan sat on the sofa, while Sam and Liam huddled together in the large armchair. Nibs brought in the chairs from their bedroom for him and Wig. As far as Wig knew, Paul was still in the restaurant. He’d got a call just as everyone had walked out the door. Wig had watched the myriad of expressions that crossed Paul’s face and realized Skandik had kept his word.

Wig broke out the whiskey and brandy from the restaurant stores after a minor tussle with Nibs about using all their stock. Wig won that argument when Colin plucked the bottle of whiskey out of Nibs’s hand and headed into the kitchen for glasses. After an hour Nibs was too well oiled to care where the booze had come from.

“We ought to do a toast to Gran,” Sam said.

“Wait for Paul,” Liam suggested.

Sam frowned. “Where is he?”

“At a guess I would say he’s talking to Olaf. Liam and I called him and told him about Rose.”

Sam pursed his lips and then nodded. “Good. Paul needs him now. In which case we won’t wait. They could be hours.”

Paul proved his brother wrong by walking into the lounge. Wig had to give everyone credit. No one mentioned his eyes were bloodshot or that there was still moisture on his cheeks, and for a pack of Owenses, that was amazing.

“Well?” Sam demanded.

“Fuck off,” Paul said, collapsing on a heap on the floor. “Where’s my brandy?”

“I’ll get you a glass,” Wig said. Unlike the others, he was sticking to coffee, the memory of the aftermath of his recent love-in with whiskey still clear in his mind.

When they all had full glasses (or a mug, in Wig’s case) Colin raised his. “To Rose Owens. May that wicked old woman cause havoc in heaven.”

“To Rose.” They all drank.

“She didn’t believe in heaven,” Dan said.

“Yes, she did,” Liam said so softly Wig almost didn’t hear him. “She always told me I would see Alex again.”

Sam smirked wickedly. “She only didn’t believe in heaven ’cos she was afraid of tripping over all her ex-husbands.”

“Poor Rose. She never managed to find true love,” Liam said.

“We don’t know that. We don’t really know what her love life was like.” Dan hiccupped and carried on. “Anyway, we’re not all lucky enough to find the man or woman of our dreams.”

Colin raised an eyebrow. “So it’s not working out with Tea?”

“She’s in America. It’s never going to work.”

Paul got up and walked out of the room.

“Nice one, Dan.” Sam made to get up, but Wig stopped him.

“I’ll go. We need more drink anyway”

Wig found Paul on the decking outside the restaurant.

“There are moments like this I wish I smoked,” Paul said grimly as Wig joined him.

“Filthy habit. Don’t even think about it. Do you want a top up?” Wig held his hand out for Paul’s glass.

“I shouldn’t. Oh, go on, then.”

Wig went back inside, filled their glasses—a very small one for himself—and returned to the deck to hand the larger glass to Paul. “Cheers.”

Paul took his time to speak. “Olaf said it was your idea to call him.”

“Yeah, I thought he should know about our Rose.”

“Thanks. I’d forgotten in all the fuss and drama.”

Paul sipped at his drink. Wig kept the silence, waiting for Paul to unload whatever was on his mind.

“He apologized for hurting me.”

“Oh?”

“He said it was a spur of the moment reaction to his mother’s questions.”

Wig looked out over the sea. “And what did you say?”

“Words that I would not use in front of my mother, no matter how liberated she is.”

“So what’s happening? Are you back together?”

Paul huffed and looked down into his glass. “I don’t know. He’s coming over for the funeral if he can get the time off.”

“Do you want him to come back?” Wig asked gently. “What happens if he does this again? The situation isn’t going to change, is it?”

“Look at you, all so grown-up like.”

“That’s not even English,” Wig said.

Anguish clear in his expression, Paul looked at him. “What do I do?”

Wig held out his arms, and Paul allowed Wig to hold him, burying his face in Wig’s shoulder. His shoulders shook, but he made no noise as he wept. Wig stroked his hair, all sticky with product, and let him weep himself out, for his gran, for Olaf and himself.

The restaurant door opened, and Sam came out, a worried expression on his face. Wig gently pushed Paul into Sam’s arms. There were times a guy needed his big brother.

Nibs was waiting for him inside the restaurant. “Is he okay?”

“No, but he will be. We just have to convince Mr. Tall, American, and Scared that he has a home here.”

“Here?” Nibs narrowed his eyes. “You’re not inviting more people to live here, are you?”

Wig patted his hands. “I have plans, babe.”

“That’s what worries me.”

R
OSE
’
S
FUNERAL
was packed to the rafters. More seats were brought in for the elderly, and everyone else lined the back. There had been one request, nay, rule for the funeral. No black. Rose had left the instruction along with her funeral requests. Wig had heard some of the grumbling from Rose’s friends that they only had one funeral outfit, and normal people wore black. Still, none of them disobeyed Rose Owens. Wig wore a pale gray suit and lavender shirt, and Nibs wore a red waistcoat with his suit.

Tucked into a corner, Wig leaned against Nibs who rubbed his back soothingly. “Did she know everyone on the island?” he asked.

“Pretty much.”

Wig looked around. The Owens men were at the front, dressed in suits and brightly colored shirts. Skandik was back for the weekend, although he’d had to beg on bended knee for the vacation time. Wig wasn’t sure whether the two were back together, but at least Paul wasn’t on his own.

Rose had asked for a secular funeral, and a large screen showed pictures of Rose and her life, from a baby to Sam and Liam’s wedding three weeks previously.

The woman conducting the service was calm in the face of so many people, managing to make people laugh as she recited some of Rose’s antics.

“Did you know she’d been married four times?” Wig whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“I knew she’d been around the block a few times with her boyfriends.” Nibs shut up as a row of elderly women glared at him.

The woman smiled at the crowd. “Rose’s grandson, Sam, is now going to read a eulogy.”

Sam got up and turned to the crowd, his hands shaking as he looked at the paper in his hand. “I….” He stopped, visibly gathered himself together, and tried again. “Rose Owens was the best grandmother in the world. She….” He stopped again and looked at Liam, desperation clear in his eyes. Liam stood up, took the paper, and gently pushed Sam back to his seat. Mattie took Sam’s hand, and Paul put his arm around him.

Liam looked out at the crowd. “Rose Owens would have hated this. She would have looked out at you all and told you to go and have fun, like bowling or bingo. She didn’t like funerals except for the knees-up—see, I may be American, but she taught me that word—afterwards. She didn’t want to stand in drafty churches getting cold. She didn’t need to see a coffin to say good-bye. Rose embraced life, and everyone else went along for the ride or got out of the way.”

Wig grinned and quite a few people sniggered.

“Sam was asked to write a eulogy for Rose, and we wrote it and rewrote it, adding more of her life in until, if we read that version you’d still be here tomorrow. Rose would have got up and walked out, bored after two minutes. So I’m going to do this.” Liam screwed up the written eulogy and threw it into Sam’s lap. “You all have your Rose: school friend, girlfriend, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, friend—” He paused, and his eyes flickered over near Wig. “—lover.”

Wig noticed an older man sitting alone not far from him, looking down at his hands.