Just a Family Affair (35 page)

Suddenly the French windows that looked out onto the terrace opened, and a figure stepped into the room.

‘Fuck!’ whispered Kitty in awe. ‘It’s Johnny Depp. We’ve come to the wrong villa.’

The intruder was tall and lean. His hair was dark, but streaked fair in places by the sun and the sea. Loose, it would have curled down to just above his shoulders, but he’d caught it up in a leather thong, thereby showing off his razor-sharp cheekbones and his slanting eyes, as black as coal and fringed by Bambi eyelashes. A faint line of black stubble on his top lip and chin outlined his mouth. He wore nothing but a pair of faded jeans, slung low on his hips and held up by a battered leather belt with an elaborate buckle in the shape of a skull and crossbones.

‘Ladies. You are a little earlier than I expected. The traffic from the airport must have been good.’ He smiled in delight, his eyes lighting up, showing even white teeth. He indicated his bare torso. ‘I apologize. I meant to dress for you. Excuse me.’

‘Please. Don’t worry.’ Ginny spoke for all of them, the only one able to find her voice. ‘You must be Alejandro.’

‘And you must be Ginny.’ He pronounced it ‘genie’ as he descended on her with his hand outstretched. ‘Sandra told me you would be in charge.’

‘For my sins,’ replied Ginny, taking his hand with a blush and suddenly thinking of several other sins.

‘I am here to do for you whatever you want. Sandra has said I must tend to your every need.’

‘You’re going to be jolly worn out by the end of the weekend, then,’ said Caroline cheerfully. Whether it was being free from the tyranny of her husband and children, three gin and tonics on the plane, or the sight of Alejandro, it wasn’t clear, but she seemed to have perked up immeasurably.

‘I’ll bring in your cases. Then I’ll show you your rooms. And then I make cocktails on the terrace.’ He turned to Mandy. ‘This must be the beautiful bride-to-be.’

He took her hand and kissed it. Mandy visibly melted. The others all waited their turn, hearts thumping, as he correctly guessed who each one was, even divining which twin was which, then went outside to retrieve their luggage from the car. Five pairs of eyes watched his retreating muscular back with longing.

‘How did he know who we all were?’ wondered Sasha.

‘Sandra will have described us. I’ll be the fat, ginger one,’ said Caroline.

‘She never said he was a sex god,’ breathed Kitty. ‘I thought he was going to be some lecherous old man who’d ogle us by the pool.’

‘He’s totally divine,’ giggled Ginny. ‘He should come with a health warning.’

‘First one to shag him gets fifty quid.’ Caroline loved a bet. And a challenge.

‘Dream on,’ said Sasha. ‘I bet he’s got a girlfriend that looks like Penelope Cruz tucked away somewhere.’

There was a collective sigh as they individually realized they didn’t have a hope.

‘Come on,’ said Ginny. ‘Let’s choose our rooms and go for a swim. I don’t want to waste a moment.’

She suddenly felt the need to cool down. Was it a hot flush? That was all she needed. To be menopausal on top of everything else. Although now she was here she felt a bit better. You couldn’t help but feel light-hearted in this wondrous setting. No wonder Sandra was so upbeat and optimistic. Never mind the cosmetic surgery - the sunshine alone made you feel ten years younger.

 

Alejandro prepared them the most delicious evening meal. The table was covered with colourful plates made from local pottery, piled high with
jamón
Serrano, gleaming black olives, tomato salad, chunks of manchego cheese, marinated red peppers, and his speciality, patatas bravas - wedges of potato cooked in paprika, and dunked into bowls of garlic mayonnaise.

‘I hope nobody wants a snog later,’ said Caroline, happily scooping up glistening blobs of mayo.

Thanks to Lucy’s divine intervention, Percy was now sleeping from seven at night till seven the next, and it had made all the difference. Now she was able to get a decent night’s sleep, Caroline felt able to cope. She’d even managed to get organized enough to book Percy and Constance into the cre‘che at the leisure centre in Eldenbury and start swimming. She’d dropped five pounds in just a fortnight, because she no longer needed to keep her energy levels up by stuffing biscuits and the children’s tea. She’d already decided to hit the shops the next day and buy Lucy something to say thank you. God knows how long she would have carried on in her postnatal fug. It was only now she felt almost back to normal that she realized how dangerously low she had felt, and she was grateful to her sister-in-law. Especially after she had been so foul and practically accused her of trying to seduce James. But luckily Lucy didn’t bear grudges.

Caroline took a slurp of wine and giggled to herself as she imagined James coping with the dreaded bedtime ritual. Henry was pretty savage by the end of the day, and Constance never missed an opportunity to be uncooperative if she sensed someone was at the end of their tether. James was used to walking in the door at seven and helping himself to a drink while he listened to The Archers and read the paper at the kitchen table, oblivious to the mayhem going on upstairs while his wife administered baths, bottles and bedtime stories. Caroline relished the image of him withstanding Henry’s pleas for yet another Thomas the Tank Engine adventure, as Constance repeatedly threw her rag doll out of bed and demanded its retrieval.

There had been a moment the day before when she had nearly bottled out of going, but Lucy had soon put her straight.

‘James will survive. It’ll do him good. And anyway, what can go wrong? He can always ring me if he really comes unstuck.’

Caroline had left the fridge bulging with food, and several lists, timetables and menus stuck to the wall next to it. All James had to do was follow her instructions. And now she was determined to make the most of her few days of freedom. She was determined not to feel guilty, or worry about what was going on at home.

‘So, Alejandro,’ she purred, piling another helping of Serrano ham onto her plate. ‘Where’s the action round here?’

Alejandro was in the kitchen making crema Catalan - the Spanish equivalent of crème brulée, served in individual terracotta dishes. He had a flat metal disc on a long handle which was heated up then applied to a layer of sugar sprinkled on top of the custard, whereupon it melted into a hard layer of toffee. He looked up from his task with a reassuring smile.

‘Don’t worry. I will get you all the best tables, into all the best clubs.’

‘Good,’ said Caroline, licking her fingers. ‘This is my first taste of freedom for nearly five years. I want to make the most of it.’

Ginny shot her a worried glance. She knew Caroline had once had a bit of a reputation, and that she was hard to control when she’d had a few. What if she went off the rails over the weekend? The Liddiards would never forgive her—

With a start she realized Alejandro was filling up her cava glass and pressing it into her hand.

‘Relax,’ he urged her, and looked deep into her eyes. Colouring furiously, she managed to smile back and lifted the glass obediently to her lips. He was right. Why should she worry? Caroline was old enough to look after herself. Why did she always feel the need to cluck around everyone, Ginny wondered.

‘Shopping tomorrow,’ Sasha was declaring. ‘I need an outfit for the evening do.’

‘Aren’t you going to wear your bridesmaid’s dress?’ demanded Kitty, a little hurt. She’d spent the past week up until midnight making the outfits, since Mandy had rather belatedly decided that she wanted the twins and Sophie and Georgina to escort her down the aisle as well as Constance.

‘There is no way I’m going to strut my stuff in white organza.’ Sasha was adamant.

‘Oh God,’ groaned Caroline, suddenly brought back down to earth. ‘I’ve got to find something too.’ She poked at her middle.

‘Join the club,’ said Ginny gloomily.

‘You know what?’ said Alejandro, bearing a tray full of completed desserts. ‘You will all look gorgeous, whatever you wear.’

Five pairs of eyes looked at him doubtfully as he handed out the calorie-laden pots of sin.

‘That’s not going to help the cause, is it?’ observed Caroline.

They all picked up their spoons regardless, unable to resist temptation. It was going to be that sort of weekend.

 

Sandra arrived at the Lygon Arms nice and early. The famous hotel was the perfect combination of ancient and luxurious. A sprawling Cotswold coaching inn whose frontage took up the centre of the chocolate box village of Broadway, it was all flagstone floors and inglenooks and oil paintings. England at its best. As the chill of the night air took hold, fires were being lit while guests put the finishing touches to their appearance before coming down for pre-dinner drinks. Ice buckets were filled, the chefs furiously chopped vegetables and reduced sauces, and the last of the stiff linen napkins were put onto the tables with pride.

Sandra embarked on her search for the perfect spot for her encounter with Keith. The bar, she decided, was cosy, but not intimate enough. She prowled around until she found a little cubby hole off the foyer, furnished with a couple of deep sofas where guests could take coffee and read the paper. She ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon to be brought there, then sank into the sofa nearest the window. She decided against kicking off her boots and tucking her legs underneath her. That was a bit too relaxed. That could come later.

She’d stage-managed the whole evening very carefully. The champagne to start with, and a little plate of appetizers, to give them enough time to unwind and relax together. It was vital that she should put Keith at his ease as soon as possible. Then a delicious dinner in a table tucked away in the dining room, before retreating for coffee and brandies on this very sofa, by which time the lights would be dimmed and the fire lit. By then, Keith would have drunk far too much to drive home. She’d make sure his glass was kept topped up. When it came time for him to go, she would express concern. It shouldn’t be too hard to persuade him upstairs, even if it was just on the pretext of another coffee to sober him up. She’d booked the room. Well, a suite, actually. With a sumptuous four-poster bed and a palatial bathroom . . .

She could hear herself making light of it even now.

‘It’s not as if we haven’t shared a room before. We’ve got nothing to hide from each other.’

Of course, once he was in situ, then she could move in. It wouldn’t take much. She could remember his weaknesses. And she’d learnt an awful lot since then, courtesy of Alejandro.

She popped her glass on the arm of the sofa, selected a magazine and pretended to be thoroughly engrossed while she waited. But despite her carapace of confidence she found it hard to concentrate. She took another sip of her drink, disconcerted to find that she cared so much. After all, she’d trained herself to be impenetrable over the past few years.

She hadn’t realized quite how much the evening’s outcome mattered.

 

Keith walked into the foyer of the Lygon Arms at two minutes past eight. He’d passed it on countless occasions, but had never actually been in, and he was charmed by what he found. It was understated and gracious, with a roaring log fire, stone walls, tapestries and a large table scattered with glamorous international magazines, which gave away the fact that only foreigners could really afford to stay here. It had the hushed air of genteel luxury; the rooms smelled of beeswax and lilies and wood-smoke. He worried that he might be underdressed in just a casual jacket, that he should have put a suit on, but the other guests he spied looked to be smart but casual. It was a country hotel, after all, not overly formal. But special nevertheless.

Keith realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he and Ginny had gone somewhere like this to eat. They always ended up at the Chinese in Eldenbury or the Honeycote Arms. A sudden vision of her popped into his head, and he felt filled with remorse. He hadn’t been able to face saying goodbye properly this morning. He’d made his escape while she was in the shower. How cowardly could you get? He knew they’d arrived safely, because Mandy had phoned, but he’d made no effort to contact Ginny and make sure she was all right.

It wasn’t long to go now, he told himself. By this time tomorrow he would know his fate. And when it was all over - if it was all over, and he got the all clear - then he could make it up to her. He’d bring her here, in fact. Pamper her, give her some space from the twins, give themselves some time to rediscover what they were all about. They were going to do a lot more of that, Keith decided.

He found Sandra in a little snug, sitting on a sofa engrossed in a magazine. She stood up with a welcoming smile, dressed in a grey cowl-neck sweater dress and shiny brown leather boots, several strands of pearls strung round her neck. She looked very much at home, as if this was where she belonged, and Keith was once again amazed at how she had changed. Five years ago she would have stuck out like a sore thumb, wearing something garish and inappropriate and commenting in a loud voice on her surroundings and the other guests.

‘Isn’t it perfect here?’ She gave him a kiss on each cheek. ‘I’m thinking of taking up full-time residency.’

Keith settled down in an armchair adjacent to the sofa she was occupying. It was deep and comfortable, and as she handed him a glass of champagne he felt himself relax. Strange though the situation was, this had been the right thing to do. Otherwise he would have found himself alone in a spookily empty Keeper’s Cottage with only the television to keep his mind off the horrors of the weekend ahead. He took a tentative sip. He mustn’t drink too much before his operation. He wanted to be as fit as possible.

‘The girls all arrived safely,’ Sandra told him. ‘I’ve got Alejandro keeping an eye so they don’t get into mischief.’

‘The whole thing is very generous of you.’