A Family Holiday

BELLA OSBORNE

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HarperCollinsPublishers

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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2016

Copyright © Bella Osborne 2016

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017

Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com

Cover design by Ellie Game

Bella Osborne asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book

is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Ebook Edition © June 2016 ISBN: 9780008119492

Version 2017-07-13

PRAISE FOR BELLA OSBORNE

‘A well written and very intriguing tale that I really enjoyed’

Katie Fforde

‘A warm and engaging story with relatable characters who will worm their way into your heart’

Talli Roland

‘Loved it! Believable characters, a sweetly told, lovely story…a great read’

Jane Lovering

‘Romance, comedy, and mystery abound in this delightful British novel’

I Read That Book!

‘So beautiful and romantic’

Annie’s Book Corner

‘A well-written and charming tale’

Paris Baker’s Book Nook

‘I wasn’t expecting a debut novel to be this good’

The Bookish & The Romantic

‘Makes me feel like I should be reading it while wearing a tea dress, drinking posh coffee from a china cup and eating Victoria sandwich cake with a dainty little fork. It’s charming, adorable, amusing and all those sorts of words’

Escape Into Words

‘This book is perfect chick lit’

Gidget Girls Reading

For my amazingly supportive husband and daughter – I love you with all of my heart.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Bella Osborne

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Coming Soon From Bella Osborne

Also by Bella Osborne

Bella Osborne

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Millie had forgotten her knickers again. The grinning toddler swung her legs happily as she sat on the toilet at the solicitor’s office. With all the children still off school and having been let down at the last moment, Charlie had been forced to bring them with her to the meeting. This was far from ideal. She was their nanny; not a member of the family, just a paid employee whose job stability was now very unclear.

‘Millie, it’s important that you keep your skirt down. Keep your bottom covered up, okay?’ said Charlie as they washed and dried their hands.

‘Bottom,’ repeated Millie with a giggle. She gripped Charlie’s hand tightly as they left the toilets, something the three-year-old would have resisted a couple of months ago due to her desire to be independent, but things had changed and Millie now needed Charlie close to her.

In the waiting room sat the other three children: Ted, George and Eleanor. Ted, the eldest at fifteen, was studiously ignoring everything around him. George had had a recent growth spurt and looked older than his ten years, making the two-year gap between him and Eleanor appear to be a lot more.

Eleanor’s face looked thin and pale and her eyes were full of sadness. Charlie sat down next to her and gently patted her hand as Millie inelegantly climbed onto the seat next to her, clutching her beloved Winnie the Pooh toy and immediately revealing her bare bottom to the rest of the solicitor’s waiting clients.

George sniggered and tried to exchange smiles with his older brother but Ted was looking deeply serious as he stared at the floor. George’s smile disappeared and he too started to study the carpet.

Eventually a very young-looking man called them into his office. He met them all solemnly at the door, introduced himself as Jonathan Steeple, and shook Charlie’s hand. ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said and all Charlie could do was swallow hard and nod her response. They settled themselves into chairs as the solicitor squeezed behind a giant desk.

‘Normally I would read out the wills word for word but…’ he looked at the children all staring back at him. ‘It’s probably more appropriate to just focus on the key elements.’

‘Yes, I think that would be best, Mr Steeple,’ said Charlie.

‘Please call me Jonathan.’

A loud repetitive knock came at the door as it was simultaneously opened.

‘I’m so sorry, Mr Steeple, this is Miss Talbot, she’s…’ but the young receptionist could no longer be heard.

‘I’m Ruth Talbot, we had an appointment.’ A thin ordinary-looking woman had shut the door and was stood glaring at the solicitor, until she noticed Charlie and her glare immediately changed direction.

‘Hello Ruth. I’m Charlie. We met at the funeral.’ Charlie stood balancing Millie on her hip and belatedly offered a hand to shake. Charlie always felt awkward in serious situations and this was one of the worst. Ruth nodded and only now seemed to notice her nieces and nephews.

‘Edward, George… girls,’ she bobbed her head in what Charlie assumed was her best attempt at a greeting, before returning her stare to Charlie. ‘You’re the au pair.’

‘No, I’m the nanny,’ replied Charlie, sitting down. If anything was designed to annoy Charlie it was being demoted.

‘An unqualified one, I understand, which I think you’ll find makes you an au pair.’

It was hard but Charlie held her tongue. Now was not the time to start a fight.

Jonathan introduced himself again and pulled forward a chair for Ruth to sit down.

‘I’m sorry but this is a family matter, you shouldn’t be here.’ Ruth was pointing at Charlie. She was clearly not one for sugar-coating what she thought.

‘Your father asked me to come,’ Charlie gave a smug smile and turned away from Ruth.

‘But he’s in a nursing home…’

‘Yep, he calls every week. He’s seized up with arthritis, Ruth, but he still has all his marbles.’

‘Well, really…’ Ruth shook her head, but said no more.

Jonathan waited a moment and when nobody else objected he cleared his throat and proceeded to read through the highlights, if you could call them that, of Helen and Toby Cobley’s wills. Written shortly after they’d had Millie, the mirror wills appointed Felix Cobley and Ruth Talbot as joint guardians and trustees. The wills were very clear that the children should be kept together, despite Toby not being Ted’s natural father.

Ted was frowning as he took in the information. The sudden loss of his parents meant he had quickly become the adult he so longed to be.

‘We’re going to be looked after by Felix?’ asked Ted.

Eleanor blew her nose and cried quietly into a tissue as Charlie tried to comfort her with one arm and restrain a bored Millie with the other.

‘Who’s Felix?’ asked Charlie, having not heard him mentioned before.

‘Will you stop interrupting?’ said Ruth, followed by a series of tutting noises.

‘How rude!’ said Charlie, but Ted was already answering her question.

‘Felix is Dad’s loser of a brother who flipped out and ran off years ago,’ explained Ted, throwing himself back into the office chair and making it topple precariously. Jonathan opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Charlie.

‘Where does this leave us right now?’ she asked, more than a little confused by the information overload.

‘Well,’ cut in Ruth, although she was speaking directly to Jonathan. ‘As we have no contact details for Felix, that makes me effectively sole guardian.’

Jonathan gave her what looked like a very practised smile. ‘Not exactly. We have finally managed to track down Mr Cobley and we’re awaiting a response.’

‘Good luck with that,’ snorted Ted.

‘We don’t have to move house, do we?’ asked Eleanor, her eyes wide.

‘For now it’s best if everything stays as it is. We will pay all essential bills, including your salary,’ Jonathan nodded reassuringly at Charlie. ‘As long as you are happy to carry on in your role as primary care giver until a guardian is appointed. It is an unusual situation but Social Services will be able to help you through this.’ Charlie felt her stomach clench at the mention of Social Services and bile rose in her throat. Jonathan quickly passed her a pre-poured glass of water.

‘Thank you.’

Ruth was checking her watch and frowning. ‘Would you put all of this in writing and confirm what powers we have over the estate. ‘We’ being the family, obviously.’ Ruth gave a withering glance in Charlie’s direction as she stood up.

‘Only the executors, which is us, Sedgley, Steeple and Thomas, have the power to administer the estate until guardians and trustees are formally appointed. And the guardians’ appointment will be subject to Social Services’ approval.’

‘Do Aunt Ruth and Uncle Felix have to fight to the death?’ said George, leaning forward as Eleanor automatically recoiled.

‘How ridiculous!’ said Ruth. She turned to Jonathan, ‘I’ll be expecting you to send minutes of this meeting,’ she said, before addressing the children. ‘Take care of each other, and call me if you have any problems.’ This successfully made Charlie bristle but she didn’t react; instead she gave her sweetest smile as Ruth left.

Ted looked at Charlie, colour rising in his cheeks. ‘So basically, we’ve been left in their wills like an old tea set. Worst still, we’ve been left to two people, neither of whom has done anything for us in the past.’

‘Aunt Ruth sends book tokens at Christmas,’ added Eleanor, ever the voice of diplomacy, as George snorted his derision.

Ted was shaking his head. Charlie could feel the frustration emanating from him but before she could attempt to allay his fears he stood up abruptly.

‘This is bloody ridiculous!’ he bellowed before roughly pushing back his chair and stomping out of the room.

‘Bloody ridiculous!’ repeated Millie as she lifted her skirt and flashed at the solicitor. Charlie let a heavy sigh escape.

Looking back, Ted had been more than a challenge to care for; underneath his couldn’t-care-less exterior was a boy who longed to have more of his mother’s time. In Ted’s eyes Charlie’s arrival had further displaced his mother. At the start there were full-blown shouting matches between them, and Charlie had placed Ted at the top of her ‘Kipper List’.

The ‘Kipper List’ was a long list of people that Charlie would like to beat around the head with a wet kipper. Yes, a wet kipper was her weapon of choice. Over the years she had been offered various suggestions for how to manage her fiery temper and she had found this the most effective. The original suggestion had been a lot less colourful and nowhere near as effective, but Charlie’s variation seemed to work a treat. Charlie could happily visualise slapping the offending individual with a wet kipper and she felt it was a fitting approach to those who upset her, whilst unlikely to get her into any serious trouble. Charlie had only ever told one person about her ‘Kipper List’ method of anger management; a particularly uptight therapist who looked like she needed her own stress-release mechanism. However, when Charlie had explained the process the therapist had unhelpfully pointed out that kippers were not large and wet, as Charlie had described, and had provided a detailed account of the herring-to-kipper process, during which Charlie had visualised the therapist being battered senseless with a giant wet kipper whilst she herself stayed completely calm, which proved beyond doubt that the method truly worked.

Charlie made her apologies to the solicitor over the top of Millie’s repetition of ‘Bloody ridiculous!’ There were much simpler words she struggled to pronounce like ‘banana’ or ‘cereal’ but ‘bloody’ and ‘ridiculous’ evidently weren’t causing her any such issues.

As Charlie tried to herd the children through the waiting area as quickly as possible a tall blonde-haired man strode past them. He glanced at Charlie, but as he saw the miserable-looking children surrounding her he quickly turned his head away. Still, he wasn’t to know that she was only the nanny.

Chapter Two

Back at home Ted and Charlie stared into their respective mugs.

‘What do you know about Aunt Ruth and Uncle Felix?’ asked Charlie, trying to sound relaxed, but it still came out like the start of an inquisition. Ted sighed heavily.

‘You’ve met Aunt Ruthless,’ he said, and looked up as if that was explanation enough.

‘She seems… okay,’ said Charlie, sipping her drink and avoiding eye contact.

‘Okay?’ questioned Ted. ‘Yeah, if you were stuck next to her on a train for an hour, perhaps, but okay to take the place of our parents?’ Charlie pulled a face like someone discovering a maggot in an apple. Ted continued, ‘She would only look okay when compared to a rabid wolf and then it would be touch and go who to choose. In fact, I think wolves have quite a strong nurturing instinct.’ He gave a wry smile.

‘I agree she’s not the warmest of people, but she seemed, um, efficient.’

‘Charlie, I am not having Aunt Ruthless move in here so she can bully all of us and use the trust fund to shore up her failing company.’

‘She’s not that bad and don’t call her Ruthless or Millie will pick it up and…’

Ted grinned over his coffee mug. Charlie shook her head in mock despondency. They sat in silence again, the only sound was of muffled footsteps upstairs as Fleur played with the other children. Fleur was Charlie’s oldest friend and should have been baby-sitting that morning so Charlie could have gone to the solicitor’s alone, but something had come up and Fleur hadn’t made it in time. Better late than never, thought Charlie.

The sound of frantic high-speed paws almost tumbling down the stairs towards them made them both turn to see the arrival of Wriggly. He was a brown-and-white Llasa Apso puppy with an amazing pedigree birth line and an even longer pedigree name that was no good for day-to-day use. After much debate and a secret vote, they had finally settled on the name Mr Wriggly. Charlie still felt that it had some inappropriate overtones, but she’d been outvoted. Thankfully it had soon been shortened to Wriggly. Today Wriggly was wearing a Star Wars Ewok costume and was closely followed by Princess Leia, a storm trooper and a mini version of Darth Vader.

‘George, Wriggly will overheat in that outfit. Take it off, please,’ asked Charlie as the storm trooper removed his mask.

‘But we’re being chased by a Cyberman!’ said Eleanor, adjusting her Princess Leia Chelsea-bun-style hairband.

‘Shhhhh,’ said Darth Vader. Not having seen the films, this was Millie’s interpretation of the Darth Vader breathing noise. George had given up trying to teach her how to do it properly.

‘Cyberman?’ queried Ted and he glanced at Charlie with raised eyebrows.

An odd-looking Cyberman walked awkwardly down the stairs like an Egyptian mummy from a black-and-white film. The key differences being the swathes of auburn hair bouncing behind it and the patent high-heeled shoes. George and Eleanor screamed and ran for the garden.

‘Shhhhh,’ said Darth Vader before giggling and following the others.

‘Fleur, you are useless when it comes to sci-fi,’ said Charlie.

The Cyberman spun in her direction, removed the mask and studied it. ‘Is this not Star Wars?’

Charlie shook her head, ‘Dr Who.’

‘Bugger,’ said Fleur as she flopped onto a barstool.

‘Thanks for baby-sitting, Fleur. They love playing with you.’

‘It’s the least I can do after messing up this morning. Sorry. How are things?’

‘Not great, but we’re managing,’ said Charlie, exchanging grimaces with Ted.

‘I think you’re all amazing. I’d be a mess if it were me. Ma and Pa send their love and Pa says thanks for keeping me busy. He says if I mention the wedding at home once more he’s moving into the stables.’ She huffed. ‘You’d think I’d turned into some sort of Bridezilla.’

Charlie and Ted exchanged looks and sipped their drinks in unison.

‘What? I can’t help being excited, it’s not long now. Eeeek!’ squealed Fleur. Ted winced.

The back doors opened and the compact version of the Star Wars cast came thundering back in. ‘George! Remove the Ewok costume!’ said Charlie with authority. ‘Go on, all of you back upstairs, I’ll call you when dinner is ready,’ and Charlie dismissed them with a wave of her hand. George undid the Velcro on Wriggly’s costume, the little dog shook himself free and chased up the stairs after Eleanor, closely followed by the storm trooper and unconvincing Cyberman.

‘Shhhhh,’ said Darth Vader in passing. The kitchen was calm again.

‘Uncle Felix, what do we know about him?’ Charlie didn’t like to admit that she hadn’t known that Toby even had a brother.

‘There was some family upset and he did a runner some years ago…’ Ted paused. ‘It doesn’t matter, though, does it really? Mum and Dad are dead and nobody else is going to love us like they did.’

The doorbell rang and both Charlie and Ted jumped. Piccadilly Circus was as calm and serene as a spa compared to their house. Charlie slid off the barstool. ‘I’ll go,’ she said, as she downed the last of her coffee and tried to push her own grief to the back of her mind. The children were coping incredibly well now; they were quite matter-of-fact at times. The funeral had been the worst experience of her life as she had tried to keep things together and let them all deal with it in their own way. The last thing she wanted was for them to bottle this up, as she knew from her own experience that repressing emotions would never end well.

Charlie opened the front door and surveyed the uncomfortable-looking man fidgeting on the doorstep. His striking features looked familiar. A baseball cap covered his hair but wisps of blonde were sticking out at odd angles. He was wearing a new-looking jacket and ill-fitting jeans and his hands were thrust deep into his pockets, making the jeans sag even more.

‘Hi,’ he said at last. His accent was British with a hint of something difficult to identify.

‘Hi,’ said Charlie, feeling her cheeks rise into an involuntary smile.

‘Are you the nanny?’

‘Yes, I’m Charlie French.’ The attractive stranger intrigued her.

‘I’m Felix. Felix Cobley.’

Charlie’s smile evaporated in a haze of confusion. Was this some sort of hostile takeover?

‘What’s going on?’ she said, folding her arms tight as if holding down the anger within her.

‘Oh,’ said Felix, looking awkward. ‘I thought the solicitor had explained?’

‘Err, no!’ In her mind Charlie matched Felix to the tall man she’d passed in the solicitor’s waiting room.

‘Can I come in?’ asked Felix with a shudder. What was wrong with him? It was summer, for goodness sake!

‘I think there’s lots to discuss before we spring a long-lost relative on the children.’ Especially one with a record for running off, she thought.

‘Look, I can come back later,’ suggested Felix with a shrug.

‘Fine by me,’ said Charlie quickly.

‘But I thought it might be best the sooner we all talked. Seriously, can I come inside please?’

‘No,’ said Charlie, ‘not until I know what you’re planning to say to them. It’s me who’ll have to deal with the fallout!’ She tightened her folded arms.

‘There are no definite plans as yet, that’s why I thought a chat might be a good idea.’

Charlie heard a faint noise coming from the stairs and she knew one of the children was listening, which in reality meant that they would all know about Uncle Felix within the next few moments anyway. Charlie took a slow, deep breath and tried to calm herself. She needed to have her wits about her.

‘Okay, let’s get this over with.’ She stood back and ushered an apologetic-looking Felix into the hall and through to the living room.

‘Guys, can you come down, please,’ she called and immediately George appeared, closely followed by Eleanor, who was carrying Wriggly. So that was who was listening. George was eager to get into the living room and take a look at his uncle and Eleanor followed behind with her pale face buried in Wriggly’s coat. He was living up to his name and she was struggling to keep hold of him.

Charlie tried to remove Millie’s mask as she marched into the living room but she was not giving it up willingly so Charlie relented. Felix sat down in Toby’s spot on the sofa and Charlie and the children all stood and stared at him as he now removed his cap to reveal a mass of unruly blonde hair and the full might of the Cobley blue eyes. He was by no means his brother’s double; he was younger and more olive-skinned, but the obvious likeness was uncanny and more than a little creepy as he sat in Toby’s place. Millie shuffled a little closer to Charlie and leaned into her leg, even she could sense something.

Felix self-consciously brushed back his hair with his fingers and tried to look anywhere except at the many eyes trained on him.

‘You might want to sit over here,’ suggested Charlie gently as she gestured for Felix to move to the opposite sofa.

‘No, I’m fine. Thanks.’

Charlie gave him a look that communicated that staying seated where he was was not an option. Felix looked around him in bemusement. ‘What?’

‘Please move,’ said Charlie. He sighed but did as he was asked and looked further confused when nobody took the place he had vacated. Millie decided to sit on the rug at Charlie’s feet.

Charlie gave a forced smile. ‘This is…’

‘You’re Uncle Felix, aren’t you?’ blurted out George and Millie responded with a dramatic gasp and covered Darth Vader’s mouth with her hand. It was one of her favourite things to do at the moment and for once her timing was spot on.

‘Why are you here exactly?’ asked Ted, leaning forward, his shoulders hunched and his hands clasped tightly together in front of him.

‘Well, the solicitor thought we should meet up and…’

‘Not because you wanted to see how we were,’ stated Ted coldly, as his knuckles turned white.

‘Of course I did.’ Felix looked uncomfortable. ‘You’ve changed since I last saw you, Teddy,’ said Felix.

‘It’s Ted. And yeah that tends to happen when you sod off for years. Things change, Felix.’ He emphasised the name before slumping back into his seat.

‘Look I don’t have all the answers and I’m not here to cause trouble.’ Felix rested his hands on his knees as if trying to keep them still.

Millie climbed up onto Charlie’s lap and turned her back on the room. Charlie removed the Darth Vader mask.

‘Why did you run off?’ asked George.

Felix ran his hand through his hair, ‘It’s complicated, mate. You’d not really understand.’

‘You could at least try to explain,’ said Charlie, locking eyes with Felix and she saw a flash of something – anger, irritation? She wasn’t sure.

Felix swallowed hard. ‘Our father died and it was difficult…’

‘Yes, we know how that feels,’ said Eleanor in a soft and genuinely sympathetic voice.

‘I’m so sorry, of course you do…’ Felix looked suitably chastened.

‘Did you kill him?’ asked George, his interest piqued.

‘Err, no. Of course not.’ Felix was frowning and shaking his head but there was something about his expression that worried Charlie. His words said one thing but his face said another.

‘Why didn’t you come to the funeral?’ Ted asked belligerently.

Felix went pale. ‘Your dad and I… didn’t keep in touch. I suppose it took the solicitors a while to find me and by then I’d missed it. I’m… so sorry.’

There was an uneasy silence before Felix spoke again. ‘I’m seeing Ruth later about the guardianship and the trust fund.’

Ted snorted and shook his head. ‘You know the money comes with strings attached and we’re those strings,’ he said, pointing at himself and the other children.

‘Perhaps this was a bad idea,’ said Felix, looking decidedly awkward.

Charlie raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

‘I am truly sorry about your mum and dad. I loved them too.’ He stood and left the room and Charlie felt she should see him out, so she shifted Millie off her lap and followed him.

‘Here, call first if you want to come again. It’s best they’re forewarned, okay?’ said Charlie, handing him the phone number she’d quickly scribbled on the back of an old envelope.

He nodded, turned up his collar and stepped out into a mild summery London.

Felix raced into the small coffee shop and immediately spotted a vaguely familiar woman, who was staring unblinking at the door.

‘Hello Ruth,’ said Felix, reaching forward to air-kiss her. ‘Really sorry I’m late, I was…’

Ruth recoiled. ‘Yes, well, I still need to be in a meeting at three o’clock, which means we only have thirteen minutes.’

Felix looked longingly at the conga-line queue for coffee and Ruth blinked hard. Felix’s shoulders sagged as he accepted his disappointment and sat down opposite her.

‘I’m truly sorry about your sister. Helen was such a genuinely lovely person, I remember when…’

‘Thank you,’ cut in Ruth, glancing at her watch, ‘I’ll keep this brief. The lawyers are going to keep burning money the longer they debate how we split the guardian role. I’ve spoken to Social Services and they would prefer us to work this out for ourselves and then they’ll review the candidate. I am very happy to take on that responsibility.’

Felix slumped back into his chair and clapped his hands. ‘That is great news. Thank you. The solicitor I spoke to implied you didn’t want to look after the kids but kind of made it clear that one of us had to. So that is a huge relief.’

Ruth scowled, ‘The responsibility of guardian enables me to ensure they have a financially secure future and appoint a childcare professional to administer their care. And let’s be clear, I do not mean the current incumbent.’

Felix looked like he’d just been beaten at Scrabble. ‘What?’

‘Their current nanny will be leaving as soon as I can find a replacement. She isn’t qualified and the children are out of control. She is some stray that my sister took in. I queried it with Helen at the time. I told her she should do proper checks, but Helen was always too soft and naive.’ Ruth’s voice caught in her throat. ‘Anyway, I’ve done some investigating of my own and she’s not fit to care for those children but I’m sure she’s already looking for another job, so we’ll soon be rid of her.’ Ruth checked her watch again and moved her handbag onto her lap. ‘If you could inform the solicitor that you concur, I will notify Social Services of the agreed approach, and we should be able to get things wrapped up quite quickly.’ Ruth stood to leave.

‘Hang on, hang on,’ said Felix, waving her to sit down again. ‘Let’s get this straight. You will be their guardian, and you’ll administer the trust fund. There will be a new nanny…’

‘A qualified nanny,’ interjected Ruth.

‘Yep, to do washing, cleaning and day-to-day stuff. But what’s missing is who is actually looking after them?’

Ruth pursed her lips. ‘A full-time nanny will be there to care for them, they’ll be fine. We could, of course, consider boarding school for the older children,’ said Ruth, with almost a smile. ‘I need to leave.’

‘Yeah, of course. Sorry I was late but I think we need more time to work something else out. I really don’t think Helen and Tobes would have wanted their kids to be left to manage by themselves like this, and certainly not just packed off to boarding school.’

Ruth stood up. ‘Very well, I’ll check my diary so we can discuss this further, but I assure you they’ll be fine. Children are very resilient. Good bye.’

Chapter Three

Millie took a big breath for another rendition of the chorus. ‘All the birds of the air, fell a-sighing and a-sobbing, when they heard of the death of poor Cock Robin…’

‘Stop it!’ shouted Eleanor at close range before almost knocking over the high chair as she ran past. Eleanor’s temper had turned to tears before she’d reached the top of the stairs.

‘I’ll go,’ said Charlie, giving the others a wan smile.

‘Silly Billy,’ giggled Millie, thankfully oblivious to the impact of the upsetting faux pas before continuing with what she remembered of the old rhyme.

Eleanor lay face down on her bed, her small body shaking with the force of her sobs, her butterfly duvet muffling the pain. Wriggly sat on the pillow, looking worried and helpless, as he tilted his head from side to side and whimpered. Charlie got on the bed next to Eleanor, wrapped her arms around her and rocked her gently until the sobs turned to sniffles.

‘Mum and Dad…’ started Eleanor, but the noisy sobs returned and Charlie cradled her again until she could control them. At last they both sat up and Eleanor clung to Charlie, as she had done yesterday and the day before.

‘I know,’ said Charlie, ‘it’s total rubbish.’ She pushed a strand of damp hair off the eight-year-old’s face. Wriggly came to sit on Charlie’s lap and tried to lick Eleanor’s tears. A tiny smile appeared fleetingly on Eleanor’s lips.

‘That stupid song,’ grumbled Eleanor.

‘Granddad Roger taught it to her. She doesn’t know what it’s about, though.’

‘I know. Even Millie is being braver than me,’ said Eleanor, wiping her eyes with the tissue that was now permanently in her pocket.

Millie had been deeply affected by the emotions in the house and had cried constantly for the first few days after the accident. She had then moved onto calling out ‘My Mummy and My Daddy!’ and searching the house for them as if playing some twisted game of hide and seek. Thankfully, after repeated attempts by Charlie to explain that Mummy and Daddy had gone to Heaven, where they could see her but she couldn’t see them, she had calmed down a little and mercifully had now stopped looking for them and was very nearly back to her usual cheeky self.

‘You don’t have to be brave, Elle. It’s different for Millie; she’s only three. She won’t fully understand everything until she’s bigger. As long as Millie has food, drink and her Winnie the Pooh her basic needs are met. For the rest of you it’s a lot more complicated. You need to get through this however you can.’

‘I feel sad all the time and I cry… all the time,’ said Eleanor, looking wretched.

‘I know, sweetie, and that’s completely normal. Someone once told me that grief is like any wound, it needs time to heal. Thing is, it’s not a scab on your knee, so you can’t see how it’s getting on.’

‘It won’t get better though, will it? Mum and Dad are never coming back. We’ll never be a happy family again.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I know we argue sometimes but we did used to be happy.’ Eleanor pulled Wriggly onto her lap and he wagged his tail excitedly.

‘We did,’ nodded Charlie. ‘It will take time, lots of tears and lots of cuddles but I promise you you’ll get back to being happy. It’ll just be a different kind of happy,’ she said but Eleanor didn’t look convinced. ‘When you’re ready, come and get some food. Okay?’

The last couple of months had been a blur and too awful to put into words. They had all been suffering. It was probably Eleanor who worried Charlie the most as she had gone into her shell and spent all her time with Wriggly, barely speaking to anyone and surviving almost entirely on milkshakes.

The accident had hit Charlie hard too. She had learnt so much from the Cobleys. She’d learnt that if there was ever a cement shortage Weetabix was a viable substitute, having tried to remove it from a myriad surfaces, including her own hair. She’d learnt that you never leave a baby to play innocently with a thread in a Berber carpet, as it soon becomes a four-foot-long bald strip. She’d learnt to change a nappy at record speed, to avoid the horror of a poo-covered bottom rolling across a vanilla-coloured wool rug. But, most importantly, she’d learnt that whatever happens, you stick together as a family.

Charlie struggled to believe it herself, that Helen and Toby Cobley were both dead. When she heard a car stop outside she still occasionally had a quick look to check it wasn’t them. How quickly their world had been changed. A simple car accident on a wet motorway had become a multiple-car pile up, with the Cobley’s car somewhere in the middle.

Charlie’s immediate fear had been that the children would be taken into the care of Social Services. That fear still hung over her and it would do until the question of guardianship had been resolved. She knew too well what it was like to be a child in the care system and she was desperate for the Cobley children to avoid this fate.

Charlie joined the others at the table, where Millie was using her carrot sticks to beat out an interesting rhythm.

Ted put his cutlery down when she approached. ‘Is she okay?’ he asked, but before Charlie could get a reply out George threw his cutlery down hard onto the table, making Millie jump.

‘Of course she’s not bloody well okay!’ George shouted at his brother. ‘She’s never going to be okay. None of us are. What made you suddenly care?’

‘Come on, George, don’t be an arse,’ said Ted as he went to give George a friendly nudge.

‘Don’t shove me! You’re not in charge,’ yelled George, scraping his chair across the floor as he stood up sharply. George stood over Ted with his fists clenched.

‘Hey, calm down. I’m not trying to be in charge. Nobody is in charge any more.’

‘You think you’re the man of the house now. But you’re not!’

‘Technically, I think I am,’ said Ted, standing up and towering over George, ‘but I’m not going to fight with you.’ However, it seemed George had other ideas and launched himself at Ted, pummelling his torso with his fists. Charlie leapt forward but Ted raised a hand to stop her. Instead of hitting back or even defending himself, Ted pulled George to him, enveloped him in a hug and took the blows until George wore himself out. The happy-go-lucky George was missing and an angry boy was in his place, ready to shout and argue with anyone, about anything. Charlie sorely hoped this was a temporary phase of the grieving process.

Charlie looked at Ted, and right at that moment she was immensely proud of him. He’d been up and down emotionally himself, but it was clear he was trying to hold it together for the younger ones. George clung onto Ted until the worst of the crying had left him and then he pushed him harshly away and stormed off. Charlie listened and was pleased to hear his bedroom door slam; at least it wasn’t the front door.

‘Naughty step! Naughty step!’ chanted Millie happily, waving a carrot stick in time.

As Charlie was clearing away the lunch things in an empty kitchen the doorbell rang. Whilst Charlie loved the house, a stuccoed townhouse in the heart of Pimlico, the fact that it was split over five floors could be a pain sometimes. She sprinted up the steps from the kitchen, taking a towel with her to dry her hands. They had a state-of-the-art dishwasher but recently she’d taken to washing up, as she’d found if she kept herself busy it made things a fraction easier.

She opened the door to the hunched figure of Felix, his jacket collar turned up and his hands thrust into his jeans pockets.

‘Oh, it’s you.’

Felix rolled his lips in on themselves like a chimp. ‘Thought I should call round.’

‘A phone call first would have been good.’

‘I lost the number.’ He shrugged. ‘Last time didn’t go well. I thought I should try to get to know the kids a bit better.’

Charlie eyed him warily, stepped outside and pulled the door almost closed behind her.

‘Look, that’s all very well but if you’re planning on buggering off again at a moment’s notice it’s best you don’t bother in the first place.’ Charlie belatedly added a brief smile. ‘I’m really not trying to be unkind but…’

‘It’s not up to you, though, is it?’ said Felix, quickly zipping up his jacket as a light breeze dawdled down the overcast London street. ‘Can I come inside?’ He stepped towards the front door. He and Charlie were now stood very close to each other, he smelled soapy. Charlie held tight to the door. ‘I don’t know…’

‘Please,’ added Felix and Charlie let the door go. Maybe Charlie wasn’t the most tactful of people but she wanted him to understand that she was trying to protect the children.

Ted was sitting at the kitchen table spinning a coin repeatedly and staring at it intently. He picked it up and put it in his pocket as Charlie and Felix entered the room. Ted sat up straight, narrowed his eyes and stared at Felix.

‘It’s very quiet. Have the children run away?’ asked Charlie, as she filled the kettle.

‘Last time I looked they were trying to put clothes on Wriggly for a fashion show.’

‘Not again! Ted, can you stop them, please? Last time he went outside wearing a teddy bear’s Arsenal kit he peed all over it. See if you can interest them in playing something outside with Uncle Felix.’

‘I can try,’ said Ted as he stood up and shrugged at Felix.

‘Best thing to happen to an Arsenal kit,’ chuckled Felix.

‘Arsenal fan,’ said Ted, pointing at Charlie, and he idly swatted at a fly as it flew past.

‘Argh!’ shouted Charlie as the fly flew near her face. She grabbed a tea towel and started wildly thrashing it around her head. ‘Did I get it?’

‘No, it’s gone out of the window. Thank goodness it wasn’t a spider!’ Felix laughed.

‘Spiders I can cope with,’ said Charlie, shuddering as she shut the window. ‘Tea?’

‘Coffee please.’

Felix stood awkwardly by the table, and when the silence got too much he got a yo-yo out of his pocket and started to expertly spin it. Charlie raised her eyebrows but didn’t want to show him that she was impressed with his yo-yo skills, as it didn’t exactly automatically qualify him as a capable guardian.

‘Where do you live now?’ asked Charlie as she passed Felix his coffee and he flicked up the yo-yo and returned it to his pocket.

‘Oh, I’m staying in a hotel for a bit while I’m here. I can give you the details if you like.’

The fact that he had sidestepped the question did not go unnoticed. ‘No, it’s okay. Where’s home?’

‘I’m a bit… nomadic. How’s the job-hunting going?’

‘What the …’ Charlie was wrong-footed by the question and the sound of the tribe hurtling down the stairs thankfully drowned out her other words. Led by Ted the children all ignored Felix and ran shouting and hollering into the garden. Felix stared open-mouthed after them.

‘Are they always like that?’

‘They’re children; it’s what children do. Sure they’re playing up a bit to their new audience, that’s you by the way, but it’s to be expected. What do you mean job-hunting?’

‘I thought…’

‘You thought wrong. Have you met with Ruth yet?’

Felix’s attention was now outside as he saw the shady figures darting in different directions. ‘Yeah, we’re trying to work something out.’

Charlie was getting increasingly frustrated with everyone’s lack of communication. ‘Who is going to talk to the children about that? Don’t you think they should be included in any big decisions?’

Felix briefly looked away from the window. ‘No, not really. It’s not like we’ve got a lot of choices.’

‘Ruth or you, is that it?’ She couldn’t help but think, ‘The devil and the deep-blue eyed…’ But her thoughts abruptly trailed off and he was speaking again.

‘Ruth is keen to be the trustee but I’d like her to do a bit more than just look after the finances.’

‘Good luck trying to persuade Ruth,’ laughed Charlie and Felix turned to stare at her.

‘I can be very persuasive,’ he said with a beaming smile. It was the first time Charlie had seen him look happy. His previous frowns couldn’t exactly make him look ugly, but a smile like that lit up his whole face.

The noise from the garden reached a crescendo.

‘Do you not think you should check on them?’ asked Felix, straining to look out of the window, but with the garden raised higher than the kitchen it was hard to see.

Charlie could feel the annoyance rising within her. ‘They’re fine.’

‘I think someone should go and take a look.’

‘Be my guest,’ said Charlie, leaning back against the worktop and mentally rearranging her ‘Kipper List’.

He glared at her, roughly put down his coffee mug and walked outside and up the steps to the garden.

Charlie smiled to herself, sipped her coffee and waited. There was a brief pause in the noise before the screaming erupted again. Charlie got the kitchen roll out of the cupboard and picked up a damp cloth. She counted to three and, right on cue, Felix stumbled down the steps and tumbled into the kitchen as mud pellets showered down on him. He quickly shut the door behind him and leant against it like a scene from the Wild West as a banshee-like Millie hurled a large mud pie at the doors, hitting the glass with a tremendous thump, making Felix jump and turn round. Millie stuck out her tongue at Felix and stomped back up to the garden, where the rest of the tribe were whooping in celebration.

Felix took a deep breath and turned to face Charlie. Mud dripped from his once blonde hair and trickled off his chin. ‘They’re feral!’

Charlie couldn’t contain her grin any longer. ‘They’re great, aren’t they?’ she said handing him the cloth and kitchen roll.

Felix looked decidedly rattled as he wiped himself down. ‘Was that some elaborate initiation ceremony?’

Charlie thought for a moment. ‘They hosed me down when I first came. So, yeah, I guess it’s their way of welcoming you.’

‘Ruth said they were out of control but I hadn’t realised it was this bad.’

Charlie felt a flash of anger rampage over her. ‘Children are not meant to be CONTROLLED, especially not kids that have had their world turned arse-up!’

Felix shook his head and a lump of mud plopped onto the floor. ‘They could kill each other,’ he said, snatching some kitchen roll and smearing the mud into his once-white rugby shirt. Charlie’s temper hitched up a notch.

‘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.

Chapter Four

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.

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