A Proper Family Holiday (19 page)

No, Bill was best tucked up in bed. Dave counted out his father’s bedtime medication and turned back the sheet. The room Bill was sleeping in adjoined Dave and Jacqui’s. They kept the connecting door ajar. If Bill decided to go anywhere, they would know about it.

‘Night, Dad,’ said Dave.

‘Night, son,’ said Bill.

‘How was the bar?’ Jacqui asked, when Dave finally climbed under the sheet and lay down beside her.

Dave told her about their female company.

‘What, someone chatted you up?’

‘Not me. It was weird. She kept talking to Dad.’

‘To Bill?’

‘Yes. Perhaps she likes the company of older men?’ Dave suggested. ‘Nothing so unusual in that. But Dad?’

‘Exactly,’ said Jacqui. ‘What does she want with that doddery old git? She was almost certainly after you.’

‘I didn’t encourage her if she was,’ said Dave.

‘Hmmm. Some women don’t need any encouragement,’ said Jacqui. ‘I don’t think you should go to the bar on your own again,’ she teased. ‘I think I’ll have to come with you.’

‘She wasn’t after me, I’m telling you. She was full tractor beam on Dad.’

‘Strange woman,’ said Jacqui. ‘Still, there’s no accounting for taste or I wouldn’t have ended up with you, would I?’

Dave snuggled closer.

‘Are you having a good time?’ he asked.

‘Yeah. It’s lovely to have everyone around me.’

‘You seem a bit distracted.’

‘Do I? It’s just … You know, I keep thinking about what we said we were going to do this week and I wonder if it wouldn’t be a mistake.’

‘We don’t have to tell them yet,’ said Dave. ‘Not if you don’t think it’s the right time.’

‘But there’s never going to be a right time, is there? Not for what we’ve got to let them know. No. We’ve got to do it as soon as possible. I want to tell them while we’re all here in the same place. Then Ronnie and Chelsea will at least be able to talk about it together. Think about what it means for them both, as sisters. Oh God. What will it mean to them?’

‘It might bring them closer together,’ said Dave.

‘It might. That would be a silver lining. They’ve been bickering like they’re teenagers again.’ Jacqui rolled over onto her back. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe now isn’t the right time. Ronnie is so worried about money and Sophie, it’s making her really scratchy, and Chelsea … well, I really hoped she would be in a better place. I hoped she would have another boyfriend by now. Someone to help her take it all in. She’s trying to make out she’s happy on her own, but I don’t really believe it, do you? She’s so thin, and those circles under her eyes. She looks like she’s not looking after herself. I don’t want her to go back to London on her own, thinking the worst and not having anyone to turn to.’

‘She can always turn to us. She can talk to us about it as much as she wants.’

‘She might not want to, Dave. We’ve got to be prepared for that. She might not want to have anything to do with us at all after she hears what we’ve got to tell her.’

‘She’s not like that. Not our Chelsea.’

‘I don’t know, Dave. People react differently when they’re shocked.’

‘She might not be shocked. She’s a woman of the world. They both are, her and Ronnie.’

‘God, I hope you’re right.’

‘Look, whatever you decide, I’ll be right there with you,’ said Dave.

Jacqui kissed him on the forehead. ‘I am so lucky to have you, my loveliest love.’

‘Then you’d better keep kissing me,’ said Dave, ‘now you’ve got competition from Glorious Gloria down in the bar.’

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chelsea

Tuesday

After the humiliation of her collision with a pole outside the Kidz Klub and her subsequent, bad, decision to get over some of that humiliation with a glass or three of wine and two-thirds of Jack’s pizza, Chelsea did not feel like making a properly early start. Unfortunately, Jack woke at seven on the dot. Chelsea opened her eyes to find him leaning over her face again.

‘Why do you keep doing that?’ Chelsea asked him.

‘I was checking to see you were breathing,’ he said.

‘Am I?’

Jack backed off a little. Yep, she was definitely breathing. Morning breath. Chelsea dragged herself into a seated position. Her head was banging. She might have known that the Hotel Volcan’s house red would be rank. It was going to give her a hangover far out of proportion to whatever small amount of pleasure she thought she’d gain by drinking it. This was despite the fact that Chelsea had done another purge once Jack was asleep. How was it possible there was even any wine left in her body after that? Chelsea clutched her forehead. She clutched it harder when she remembered that in a fit of alcohol-fuelled altruism the previous night, she had promised to look after Jack this morning.

‘Are you all right?’ Jack asked her.

‘I’ll be better when I’ve had a cup of tea,’ Chelsea told him.

‘We can get one in the restaurant.’

‘What time is it?’

Chelsea picked up her phone and looked at the clock.

‘Jack, it’s still only seven o’clock in the morning. What do you want to be up so early for? You don’t have to go to school.’

‘I don’t want to miss a single minute of our holiday,’ he said.

‘Can’t you go back to sleep for just another half an hour?’

‘No,’ said Jack. He climbed onto his bed and opened the curtains. ‘It’s a spectacular day.’

It’s a spectacular day?
Where on earth had Jack got that? Probably one of the cartoons he talked about endlessly. But Chelsea was not in the mood to talk about Captain Dick and Chief Space Bimbo Wee-Wee, or whatever Jack’s heroes were called. She was in the mood for a couple of aspirin followed by another hour in bed. That wasn’t going to happen, not if she didn’t want to give Ronnie another stick to beat her with by going back on the offer of babysitting. So by a quarter past seven, Chelsea and Jack were the first two people in the breakfast queue at the Jolly Pirate. Chelsea wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. On the plus side, the food would not have had long to fester under the greasy heat lamps. On the minus side, that was assuming the food currently being placed under the heat lamps had not already had an outing the day before.

‘What are you having?’ she asked Jack.

‘A sausage sandwich.’

Chelsea grimaced as the chef plopped two glistening logs made of pigs’ snouts and tails onto the plate she held out to him. The sausages made her want to puke as she sliced them onto two pieces of bread. Still, Jack seemed to enjoy them. He assured Chelsea that it was one of the best sausage sandwiches he had ever eaten, even though Chelsea ‘did the spread wrong’.

‘I did the spread wrong?’

‘Yes. The margarine. You didn’t get it right to the edges,’ Jack explained.

‘I see.’

‘You can try again tomorrow,’ Jack assured her.

‘I think your mum will have to do your breakfast tomorrow,’ said Chelsea. This one morning was going to be enough to make her point. That was Chelsea’s plan.

At eight o’clock, Jack and Chelsea were joined by some of the others. Mark was in search of a hangover cure, as was Dave. Only a proper English breakfast would do. Meanwhile, Jacqui needed to make sure Bill was fed and watered on time. She and Dave had discovered that one of the best ways to keep Bill on an even keel was to ensure his blood sugar and hydration levels stayed relatively constant.

‘You’re up early,’ Dave commented when he saw his younger daughter already at the breakfast table. ‘Bet you’ve never seen eight o’clock before.’

‘I get up this early every day to go to work,’ Chelsea reminded him. ‘At my
full-time
office job.’

Why did everyone seem to have the impression that Chelsea didn’t work for a living?

‘Has he had enough breakfast?’ Jacqui asked of Jack.

‘I had the best sausage sandwich ever,’ Jack assured his grandmother. ‘Auntie Chelsea made it. She didn’t get the spread right, but she did OK with the sauce.’

‘Oh,’ said Jacqui. ‘You did all right, Chelsea. Jack’s very particular about his sandwiches.’

‘I am,’ Jack confirmed. ‘I’m very
per-tic-alar
.’

Breakfast over, it was time to make plans for the day ahead. To Chelsea’s chagrin, Jack insisted he wanted to go back to the Kidz Klub.

‘No way,’ said Chelsea. ‘You may be ready to go back, but I am definitely not.’

She’d decided it was best to stay away from the Kidz Klub for as long as possible. She didn’t want to have to keep Jack from fighting with Lily. As it was, she’d spent most of breakfast anxiously watching the restaurant door for a sighting of Adam and his daughter. So far, so good. It was a pity she’d had to give up on any chance of continued flirtation with Adam as a consequence, but it was probably for the best.

‘What are we going to do instead, then?’ Jack asked.

Chelsea plucked an idea from thin air. ‘I thought we might go on a trip?’

‘Ha!’ Mark laughed out loud. ‘You’ll have your work cut out, taking Jack on a trip on your own. Do you want me to put him on a lead for you?’

Jacqui pulled a face that suggested she wasn’t sure it was such a grand plan either. Jack was only slightly less judgemental.

‘What kind of trip?’ he asked.

‘Well,’ said Chelsea, ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to find something really interesting. Lanzarote is an island of natural wonders after all.’

‘What sort of natural wonders?’

‘Let’s go and see what’s available,’ said Chelsea.

‘Rather you than me,’ said Mark.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ronnie

Later that morning, Ronnie was attempting and failing to relax by the pool. Once again she was worrying about one of her children. Though Sophie said she was feeling better and had had a good night’s sleep because Jack was in with Chelsea again, Ronnie hadn’t seen her daughter smile in hours. At least she had stripped off that huge black T-shirt at last, though. Three days of baking-hot sun had won out over Sophie’s determin-ation to make herself look like a bad mime artist at all times. It was way too hot to be dressed from head to toe in black.

Ronnie watched her daughter carefully. It was so hard to believe when a tiny baby was born that it would one day be its own person, but Sophie had had plenty of personality from very early on. Ronnie had been proud to notice how alert Sophie had seemed compared to the other babies in the toddler group they attended. She spoke early. She walked early. She seemed especially sensitive, picking up on the moods and emotions of the people around her. Was that why she was such a miserable teen?

Ronnie felt a pair of eyes on her. She turned to find her own mother regarding her as closely as she had been watching Sophie. Jacqui smiled. She was clearly a little embarrassed to have been caught in the act.

‘Are you all right, Mum?’ Ronnie asked.

Jacqui nodded. ‘Yes. Just looking at my little girl. I can look at my little girl, can’t I?’

‘Ha. If only I could still claim to be little.’ Ronnie pulled out the front of her T-shirt. ‘I need to lose four stone.’

‘You’re perfect as you are. I was just thinking how much you look like my mum,’ said Jacqui, ‘your Grandma Dot.’

‘Great. Now I look like a grandmother.’

‘That’s not what I was saying. She was always very elegant, your grandma. She had lovely thick hair, like you do, and she didn’t need to wear make-up. She had your colouring. She had your dark eyelashes and your blue eyes. She was considered very beautiful when she was young, you know.’

‘It’s a shame we didn’t get to meet her,’ said Ronnie.

‘Yes, it is. I’m sure she would have loved you – you and Chelsea both.’ Jacqui looked off into the distance with a sad smile.

‘You must think about her a lot.’

Jacqui nodded. ‘I do, though not as much as I thought I would after I realised I’d seen her for the very last time. It comes and goes. Sometimes I can go for weeks and weeks without thinking about her once. Other times she’s on my mind all day. I can almost hear her voice.’

Ronnie proceeded carefully. Her mother had very rarely talked about her parents. Chelsea and Ronnie had never had the chance to meet them. They had both died long before the girls were born, as had their paternal grandmother. The only grandparent they had known was Granddad Bill. He’d done his best to make up for the lack of the others. He was always there, happy to eat mud pies in the Wendy House ‘café’ Dave had built for the girls in the garden. Always ready with a packet of sweets in his pocket along with a big, soft cotton handkerchief to dry any tears.

Ronnie had always assumed her mother never talked about her parents because the memory of their deaths was too painful. It must have been especially lonely for her, not having siblings with whom to share the happy stories of her childhood. Perhaps she would share one with Ronnie now, though. Ronnie liked to think she knew a little better what people needed to help them open up since she’d been working at the funeral home. No matter how sad people were when they came in to say goodbye to their loved ones, Ronnie could generally coax a smile from the most downcast of faces by asking them to share a happy memory of the deceased. It was important to remember better times.

‘Did you go on any good holidays with your parents?’ Ronnie asked her mum. ‘Go anywhere nice?’

Jacqui looked at the ground. ‘Not that I can remember,’ she said.

It was a strange sort of answer. Who couldn’t remember their childhood holidays? There must have been a couple. Still, Ronnie understood it was supposed to bring an end to that topic of conversation. She didn’t push it.

‘Well, I’m having a wonderful holiday now,’ she said instead. ‘Thanks, Mum, for bringing us all out here.’

‘It’s important for a family to spend time together,’ said Jacqui.

Ronnie agreed.

‘I’m glad you and Chelsea are both here this week. I know you aren’t close like you used to be, but it’s kind of your sister to look after Jack so you can get a bit of rest, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is. I suppose I had better make the most of it. Who knows what kind of trouble they’ll get into today?’