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Chapter 6
Annabelle stood in the middle of the bedroom that Beverley had allocated her and Izzie, frozen to the spot and feeling slightly sick. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing; if she’d realised Aunt Beverley was going to turf Kate’s mother out of her room to make way for her and Izzie, Annabelle would never have agreed to come.
She hadn’t wanted to come on this stupid holiday in the first place, but her mother had talked her into it, against her better judgement. And now look what had happened! She’d already alienated Kate’s mother, and it hadn’t even been her fault. Annabelle was tempted to bundle the kids and the luggage into the car and drive back to Brighton immediately.
She was about to go looking for her offspring with that very intention, when Jake stuck his head around the door, Sam hovering behind, and cried, ‘Sam said there’s surfing! Can I go, Mum? Please?’ He rushed on, without waiting for an answer. ‘And he says there’s a fairground and donkeys on the beach and fish and chips and sand dunes.’ He stopped to take a breath, leaping up and down and flapping his arms as though he was a baby bird trying to take off.
Annabelle didn’t know how to respond, and something must have shown in her face, because Sam said, ‘We don’t have to – we can do other stuff, Mrs... er…’
‘Aunty Annabelle,’ she said. ‘I’m your Aunty Annabelle.’ The title wasn’t strictly accurate, but it would do, and the poor little chap had to call her something.
Jake stopped jumping up and down, and his previously excited expression turned wary and uncertain. He’d frequently worn that same expression since she’d announced that the family wouldn’t be returning to Australia. She hated being the one to have caused her previously sunny and exuberant son, who had always run headlong at life despite the way his father had behaved, to suddenly view everything with suspicion. This was the first time in a while that she’d seen him so animated, and it made her heart clench.
Maybe her mum had been right, and this holiday was just what the kids needed?
‘Of course you can surf, as long as it’s safe,’ she said.
‘Yay!’ he cried, but Annabelle noticed Sam continuing to eye her with caution.
And why shouldn’t he? He didn’t know her from Adam, despite her and his mother being cousins. It would be good for Jake to get to know him, to understand that he had relatives in the UK besides his Granny and Grandad. And it might be good for Sam to have a boy near enough his own age to play with for the next two weeks.
Whatever her own misgivings, Annabelle decided to make the best of it.
***
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ Annabelle asked, a short while later as she wandered into the enormous open-plan living space and saw Ron in the kitchen.
He was wearing an apron and had a wooden spoon in his hand. A large pan was on the stove and the aroma of frying onions and garlic filled the air.
Kate’s mother was leaning against the island separating the kitchen from the dining area, and glaring at him. Annabelle took a moment to study her, noticing the set expression on her face. She was immaculately dressed in an A-line skirt in soft lemon, a fine knitted top, a chunky necklace and a pair of pristine white trainers on her feet. Her hair was iron grey and styled to within an inch of its life. Helen couldn’t be any more different to Beverley.
She glanced around as Annabelle approached, and Annabelle flinched at the frown on the woman’s face. It quickly cleared into a frosty smile as she held out a hand.
‘I’m Helen, Brett’s mother.’
Annabelle shook her hand. ‘Nice to meet you. Thank you for letting me join you.’
Helen’s eyes widened a fraction. ‘You should thank Kate. It was her suggestion. How do you like your room?’
‘Mum, stop it,’ Brett warned, coming into the room. Despite he and Kate having been married for over twenty years, Annabelle had never met him. She’d been travelling around Australia at the time, young, single and carefree, and the last thing she’d wanted to do was to return to the UK for the wedding of a cousin she hadn’t seen in ages. She’d been having far too much fun.
‘Hi, I’m Brett, Kate’s better half,’ he said as his mother slapped his wrist when he stole a breadstick. ‘You must be Annabelle.’
‘That’s me.’ She gave him an awkward little wave and a self-conscious smile. He grinned back, his own smile wide. He was quite pleasant to look at, she thought, late forties, trim, light brown hair, grey eyes. Not a patch on Ron.
Strewth! Had she really just thought that?
‘Need a hand?’ Brett asked Ron, peering over his shoulder.
‘We can manage, dear. You sit down,’ Helen said.
Annabelle saw the knowing look that passed between Ron and Brett.
‘I was offering to actually help and not just supervise,’ Brett said.
Helen pressed her lips together. ‘Annabelle has already offered. If you insist on making yourself useful, you can get the garlic bread out of the freezer,’ she told him.
‘Already done it,’ Ron said. Annabelle was certain a smirk was hovering around his mouth and she bit her lip to keep her own smile inside. If nothing else, Brett’s mother would provide some entertainment this holiday.
