The Holiday Home Page 0,58

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 be disrespectful to your mother. She’s exhausted with all the cleaning she’s been doing,’ said Greg, filling up his own glass.

Dorothy surveyed her unconscious daughter with a curl of her lip. ‘Doesn’t know her limit. Never did. Remember that summer, Henry? We found her in a terrible state. She’d been at your brandy.’

Henry thought for a moment, ‘That was Pru, wasn’t it?’

‘No.’ Dorothy was quite definite. ‘Connie.’ She turned to Pru: ‘What was it all about? A row over some boyfriend, as I recall.’

Pru looked into her own glass and said quietly, ‘I really don’t remember.’

‘Yes, you do,’ said Dorothy. ‘You and Connie didn’t speak to each other for months.’

‘God, yes,’ Henry breathed. ‘It was over that boy – Merlin.’

Greg sat up, suddenly attentive. ‘Merlin? He told me you two girls