‘Gosh, it hadn’t occurred to me,’ Sophie admitted. ‘But Owen is such a nice boy that I can’t imagine there’d be any, um, impropriety. Katie’s thirteen, and I’ve never worried about him being in the house with her. They’re like brother and sister.’
‘Well, yes, they would be if they’d lived together for a year,’ said Harriet. ‘That’s the point of fostering, I believe, to give a child a stable family environment. It was a lot for you to take on another child, though.’
‘It was Dan’s idea to do it,’ Sophie explained. ‘He thought it would be good for me after I got broody again. He was right. I loved having Owen with us.’ Sophie sounded wistful. ‘He stays in Spot’s room, so he wouldn’t be in the way,’ she added. ‘Hopefully he and his mum will work out whatever’s going on. They usually do after a few days and then he’ll go home again. As long as it’s okay for him to stay. I’ll tell him no if you’re not comfortable with it.’
How could she be comfortable having a random teenage boy staying with them? Random. Teenage. Boy. Three reasons right there to object. This was meant to be a family holiday, too, and as nice as this Owen person might be, he was not family. ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea,’ she told Sophie. Not that he looked dangerous, now that Harriet had had a good look at him. His haircut and thick eyebrows were a bit too Paul McCartney circa 1964 to be threatening.
‘Of course, that’s fine,’ said Sophie. ‘I’ll ring him and let him know. I’m really so sorry, Harriet, I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position. I honestly did forget he might turn up. We never know when he will, you see. It’s only when things get really bad at home.’
Guilt nipped at Harriet’s heels. ‘He’s having breakfast now,’ she said. ‘Wait a bit to ring him. I don’t want to chase him out of the house.’
‘That’s very kind,’ said Sophie.
Funnily enough, Harriet didn’t feel very kind at all.
She was finishing her own late breakfast when James came into the kitchen. Owen was still at the table, and seemed willing to chat to her. What unusual teen behaviour. Billie approached every one of Harriet’s questions like she was demanding a tooth extraction without novocaine.
James said hello in such a kindly way that Owen’s worried face immediately melted into a smile. Harriet winced to remember her own reception. She might never forget the poor boy cowering beneath her cricket bat.
‘This is Owen, one of Sophie and Dan’s friends.’ She wasn’t about to mention the fostering. She’d tell James later, away from the boy. Not that there was anything wrong with being fostered. She’d admired Sophie when she’d told her. She could never do it. Too much of a wild card. Harriet did not do wild cards.
‘You might have heard me scream when he came in?’ she added.
‘Nah, I was dead to the world.’
Said the man who woke with his goats every day. He’d probably been too absorbed in one of his nature books to hear her.
She realised as James shook Owen’s hand that they were nearly the same height.
James, oblivious that she’d just saved his life – in theory – poured himself a cup of coffee from the now properly located machine. Without hesitating, he opened the cabinet to the right of it for the sugar. That’s exactly where Harriet had put it. ‘Do you live close by?’ he asked Owen.
‘No,’ said Owen. ‘I’m in south London.’
‘Oh, crikey, did you know they were on holiday?’
Owen nodded. ‘Yeah, Sophie told me.’ Then his glance darted to Harriet. ‘I thought the place would be empty.’
James scrunched his eyebrows together. They weren’t miles apart when he wasn’t confused. When he was, they looked like two voles holding hands on his forehead.
‘I crash here sometimes,’ Owen explained. ‘When Mum and I fight.’
‘I know how that feels,’ he said. ‘You’re welcome here.’
‘James,’ she said. This was exactly the kind of thing he was always doing, being kind and accommodating – everyone’s best mate – and leaving Harriet to consider the consequences. Which made her the killjoy.
Billie shuffled into the kitchen in her usual uniform: sweatpants and a stretched-out sweatshirt. She and Owen glanced at each other. ‘S’up,’ Owen said.
Billie nodded back.
‘This is Sophie’s friend, Owen,’ Harriet said. ‘He sometimes stays, but he doesn’t have to while we’re here, if you’re uncomfortable with that.’ Surely Billie would give Harriet the perfect excuse to object.
Billie shrugged. ‘S’okay.’
Well, that was perfect. Now she couldn’t very well chuck Owen out without looking like the arse. They’d be stuck with the boy until he made up with his mum. She wasn’t thrilled with the temporary addition to their holiday, but if he’d lived with Sophie and her family, then she supposed he probably was a very nice person, like she’d said. ‘Do you want to ring your mum and let her know where you are?’ Harriet asked.
‘She knows where I am,’ said Owen. He hauled himself from the chair. ‘I’ll go and have a shower. If that’s okay.’
James was already nodding. ‘Of course, of course. We’re probably going to do some sightseeing later, if you want to join us?’
Harriet glared at James. ‘You don’t have to, Owen.’ She needed to nip this in the bud. ‘I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than hang out with strangers.’ How could James not see any problem with inviting a boy they’d known for about two minutes along on what was supposed to be their perfect family holiday?
James’s ringing phone interrupted her train of thought. He laughed at whatever the caller was saying. ‘She is.’ He covered the phone with his big hand. ‘I’ll just take it out—’ He nodded towards the front of the house. ‘Well, that’s nice to hear,’ she heard him say as he left the kitchen. It must be Persephone again.
Harriet wondered why she’d never noticed before that they talked every day.
Chapter 10
Tuesday
Dan was holed up in his office on the morning the first delivery truck crunched its way up the pebble drive. I mean James’s office, thought Sophie. Not Dan’s. It just seemed like that now that he was spending every day in there.
Sophie had jumped when the front gate intercom buzzed, slopping a bit of coffee on Harriet’s leather sofa. ‘Oh, bollocks!’ She’d scrambled to the kitchen to get a cloth. Hopefully leather was waterproof. Cows didn’t soak up rain, right?
The intercom had buzzed again. Two impatient blasts this time. She’d lunged for the handset before it disturbed Dan. Waterproof or not, the leather would have to wait.
Now Sophie stood beside the back of the open truck. ‘Sign ’ere.’ The spotty youth shoved a clipboard into her hands. Then he climbed into the back where he manhandled the first large square table to the electronic lift. The lift delivered him and the table to the drive, where he lugged it onto the grass.
Sophie said, ‘Can I please see the order form again?’ It had Harriet’s name in the customer box, but the date was wrong. ‘It’s only the fourteenth,’ she told the driver.
He paused. ‘We’re early.’
‘Is this for the Scouts’ thingy?’
‘Dunno.’
‘Because that’s not for another week and a bit. What am I supposed to do with these until then?’
‘Dunno.’ He lowered another table and dragged it across the drive towards the grass. The corner carved a deep rut through the pebbles.
‘You’re not going to leave all those here?’ There looked to be about a dozen tables still in the truck.
‘It’s delivery to the door.’ The boy pointed to the house. ‘That’s the door.’
Sophie watched the darkening clouds skittering across the sky. ‘Can you at least help me move them round the back to the barn?’
To give him credit, he did look sorry as he shook his head. ‘Health an’ safety. This is how it’s done.’
He started piling three tables onto the lift at a time. It was precariou
s, and they clattered to the drive when they reached the bottom, but he didn’t take long to get them all into a heap on the grass. Then he was off, the wheels of his truck crunching back down the drive.
Her dad was a delivery driver and she knew for a fact that he’d never dump his cargo off the back of his lorry like that. But that’s probably why he’d kept his job for Sophie’s entire life. She bet that boy would have an appointment at the Jobcentre within the month.
She rang her dad then, even though she knew it would go to voicemail. He rarely answered while he was working. ‘Hi Dad,’ she said. ‘It’s just me checking in. I’ve got another spa treatment later. I know, la-di-da, hey?’ She laughed. ‘I love it so much here that I don’t even miss being in Italy now. Anyway, hope your day is going well. I’ll have my phone off between three and four when I’m at the spa, but I’ll ring you after. Love you!’
Just as she ended the call, a raindrop plopped into her eye. What was she supposed to do now? The tabletops were wooden and she was starting to think her cow absorbability theory wasn’t true after all. Trees didn’t absorb rain either, yet she knew what water did to wooden tabletops.
At least the delivery hadn’t disturbed Dan. The office door was still closed when she got back inside.
‘Hey, Katie, Oliver.’ She was nearly whispering. ‘I need some help, please.’ A few tiny drops had already streaked the windows. ‘Let’s hurry.’
But the tables were surprisingly heavy, and the barn seemed miles away. Sophie’s biceps were screaming by the time they finished.
Katie laughed as Sophie collapsed on the sofa, rubbing her arms. ‘Mum, if you think that was hard, you’d die at my football practice. Maybe you should try the gym once in a while.’
‘All right, Sporty Spice, thanks for the advice.’ She was incredibly proud of her daughter, though. One entire bedroom wall at home was hung with running medals.
‘I might go for a run later if Dad goes,’ Katie said, as if reading her mind. ‘I need to stretch my legs.’
She definitely took after Dan like that. They were both part greyhound. ‘Are you getting bored without all your usual activities?’
‘Are you mad?’ she said. ‘It’s great not having to do anything.’
‘But you like football and art, and your piano?’
Katie shrugged. ‘Yeah.’
‘Just nice to get out of the old routine,’ Sophie said. ‘I get it.’ She winced, prodding her bicep. She might even have built a muscle or two. More importantly, she’d taken care of those tables and let Dan keep working.
To her surprise, a sensation welled up. It tickled her insides till she smiled. She couldn’t be sure, but it felt like it might be pride. When was the last time she’d felt that? Probably back when she’d been working. She must have been a problem-solver once upon a time. That’s what admin assistants did, and she always had good reviews, so she guessed she’d done it well. Objectively, she knew this. So why was she so surprised to find that, when faced with the unexpected delivery, she’d assessed the situation and managed a solution?
She could do it.
She did do it.
She’d done it for years, actually, before Dan started riding to her rescue. She’d forgotten that. Maybe confidence was like a muscle: use it or lose it. She probably needed more exercise.
She rubbed her arms again and went to make herself a cup of tea.
As she was filling the kettle, she gazed out of the kitchen window and over the back garden to the barns. Marion seemed to be having a conversation with the goats. They said that plants liked being talked to, so why wouldn’t goats? It probably made the cheese taste better.
She threw a teabag into a second cup.
‘I’ve made an extra cup if you want it,’ she called, carefully carrying the steaming drinks towards the barns. ‘You probably have your own tea and kettle, but it’s always nice when someone else makes it for you.’
‘You read my mind,’ Marion said. ‘I was just about to make one. Thank you. Mmm, perfect. James and I usually share making the drinks. It’s been weird this week, doing them all myself.’ Inside the barn, they sat on the plastic chairs that stood between the pens. ‘Time for a break.’
Sophie loved the smell of the clean hay that cushioned the goats’ pens. She could smell the animals, too, even though most of them were outside on the grass. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell. Sharp and earthy. Inside the barn it was cooler than outside. The rain had freshened the air. A nice breeze channelled between the open doors at either end, lifting the ends of Sophie’s hair. She took a deep breath. It was easy to see why James loved his goat business.
‘Have you worked with James for long?’ she asked Marion. She was clearly younger than Sophie but seemed mature. Capable. That’s how she’d describe her.
‘Going on five years,’ she said. ‘I did an internship with him and he took me on after. These goats are like his family. It’s exactly the kind of place I wanted to work.’
‘He’ll be missing them then,’ Sophie said.
Marion laughed. ‘He’s rung every day to check on them. He’ll probably ask to talk to them at some point.’
‘You’re lucky to have such good employers.’
‘Employer,’ Marion corrected. ‘Just James. Harriet hasn’t got anything to do with the goats.’
‘She’s a solicitor, so I guess not,’ said Sophie.
Marion shook her head. ‘That’s not why. James grew up with the goats. His father started this herd. It’s in his blood, even though his dad did everything he could to keep James from following in his footsteps.’
‘That’s weird. Why would he do that?’
‘I know, I never got it, especially when most farmers would love to have someone to take over. I could understand if he didn’t want to tie James to a loss-making business, but this was already doing well even before James took over and expanded.’ She shrugged. ‘They didn’t even let him do the animal husbandry course he wanted at university. They made him study something else. Then they made him work in London. He still talks about how much he hated it. He only got the farm when his parents finally moved to Spain.’
Poor James, thought Sophie. That must have been so frustrating for him. ‘At least he met Harriet in London.’
Marion grimaced. ‘Opinions are split around here on how lucky that was. I’ve got no problem with her, but lots of people think she’s stuck-up. She can be very …’
‘Direct,’ Sophie finished. ‘I’ve noticed. I think she’s just really smart. Maybe that makes her words sound abrupt. It must be hard for her living here if she hasn’t got many friends.’
Her own friendship circle had shrunk to, well, a dot in the past few years, despite the children’s ever-expanding activities and all the volunteering. She mentally ticked off the women she knew, from the school run, her charities, university and old work colleagues. She always made sure she liked their posts on Facebook, yet that wasn’t the same thing as seeing them in person, or even talking on the phone. She was embarrassed to admit that she’d talked to Harriet more in the past few days than she had her friends in ages.
Marion finished her tea. ‘People would accept Harriet because they like James so much, but she barely goes into the village. Except for Zumba on Saturdays, and it sounds like she doesn’t talk to anyone then.’
Sophie jumped to her new friend’s defence. ‘Who can talk during Zumba? I’d be too busy trying to breathe.’
Marion laughed. ‘I know, but after. I guess she’s just not a natural people person. Anyway, I’d better get back to work. Thanks ever so much for the tea.’
On her way back to the house, Sophie texted Harriet.
Just talked to Marion. She’s nice! She hesitated, then added, She likes you. She might make a nice friend. Sx
Ha, that sounded as awkward as the time her mum had tried to set Sophie up with her hairstylist’s son. His main selling point seemed to be that he had his own car. Sophie passed on the offer and kept taking the bus.
But instead of waiting for her answer, he went to the leaded window at the front of the house. She trailed behind him and, as he gazed out, Sophie opened her mouth to tell him about the delivery. He was looking at the very spot on the lawn where all the tables had lain. Now only raindrops covered the grass there, a sparkling blanket in the bright sun that beamed between fast-moving clouds.
Now you see them, now you don’t. Maybe he’d congratulate her on her resourcefulness, kiss her on the nose and tell her he loved her. No, probably he’d kiss her on the nose, tell her he loved her and then say something that rubbished all her efforts.
She didn’t want to hear that. She closed her mouth just as her phone dinged with a text.
Then a few seconds later came the next message.
‘Who’s that?’ Dan asked.
‘Only Harriet.’
‘Why are you texting each other?’
‘Oh, you know, house stuff.’ She tucked her phone away. ‘Did you see the rainbow earlier, over the barns?’
She followed him back into the kitchen where the children were finishing their sandwiches. ‘I was working, wasn’t I?’ he said. ‘I can drive you to the spa. If you’ll let me have a sandwich first.’ He snatched a crisp from Oliver’s plate, but instead of complaining, Oliver reached for the bag to offer more to his father.
‘That’s okay,’ Sophie said, ‘it looks like the rain clouds have passed. Anyway, I don’t want to put you out.’
‘You always put me out, silly bean, I’m used to it, but you don’t have to lift a finger while you’re here.’
‘Or a foot,’ she said.
‘Or a foot. You’re to be a complete slacker for the next two weeks. I mean officially. Doctor’s orders.’
Katie spoke up. ‘But Mum—’
‘But Mum nothing, Katie,’ said Dan. ‘Mum isn’t doing anything while we’re here. We’ll all just have to pick up the slack for her.’
The Staycation: This summer's hilarious tale of heartwarming friendship, fraught families and happy ever afters Page 10
