She looked dejected.
He tugged gently on her French plait. Braiding hair was another skill he’d acquired since becoming a single dad. His talents were endless. ‘Come on, everyone will be arriving soon. Are you going to help me set the table outside?’
‘I guess.’ With a sigh, she packed away her make-up box and tucked it inside the cupboard.
It was strange, really. He’d expected her to start experimenting with make-up herself at some point, but she showed no signs of being obsessed with her appearance, unlike some of her friends, who already looked like miniature women. He guessed he should feel grateful. He couldn’t imagine it was going to be an easy situation to deal with.
He went into the bathroom and washed his face, scrubbing at his eyes, lips and cheeks, trying to remove all traces of make-up. After he’d dried his face and checked he hadn’t missed anything, he headed downstairs. The doorbell rang just as he reached the hallway. He opened the front door to discover his brother-in-law looking grim.
‘Hi Chris.’ Will glanced over to where his sister and nephew were exiting the family’s silver SUV. ‘Anything wrong?’
‘I’m fine.’ His brother-in-law’s tone indicated it was everyone else who was the problem. He handed over a bottle of expensive wine and stepped into the hallway, heading for the kitchen. ‘I assume we’re eating in the garden?’
‘That’s where BBQs are normally held,’ Will called after him. He was hardly going to have a BBQ inside, was he?
Gemma arrived at the doorway, Zac a few paces behind.
His sister kissed his cheek. She was dressed in jodhpurs, ankle boots and a checked shirt, the archetypal country-casual attire. ‘The Happy Hamiltons have arrived,’ she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. ‘Are Mum and Dad here yet?’
‘Not yet. What’s up with Chris?’ He stood back to allow his sister inside.
‘The usual.’ She nodded to a dejected-looking Zac. ‘He’s been on at Zac again.’
‘What about?’
‘His clothes. His piercings. His tattoos. His chosen career—’
‘What’s wrong with his career?’
‘It’s not for boys, apparently,’ Zac said, joining his mum in the hallway. ‘I’m a disgrace to the Hamilton name.’
Gemma sighed. ‘Your father never called you a disgrace.’
‘Yes, he did. He just never said the words.’ Zac gave his uncle a half-hearted grin. ‘Nice nails. What’s for lunch?’
Will glanced at his hands. Shit. He’d forgotten to remove the nail polish. ‘Burgers, sausages and chicken kebabs.’
‘Sounds cool. Where’s Poppy?’
‘Upstairs. Can you get her for me?’
‘Sure.’ Zac ambled upstairs, his lithe frame accentuated by tight black jeans and a slim fit T-shirt. He wore a battered leather jacket and his black hair was styled into a quiff, while his guy-liner made his blue eyes pop. He was a good-looking lad, striking. Talented, too. Shame his father couldn’t see that.
Gemma inspected his nails. ‘Poppy?’
‘No, I did them myself,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘Of course it was Poppy!’
‘All right, keep your hair on. Someone’s grumpy this morning.’
‘I wasn’t until you arrived.’
‘Oh, please. You’ve been grumpy since you got back from your holiday.’ He startled. Had he? ‘For someone who claims they had a great time, you’d never know it by your mood. What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he said, a tad too defensively. ‘Holiday blues, probably. Work hasn’t been easy since I got back.’
‘It never is. You don’t normally let it get to you.’ She tapped his chest. ‘What gives, Bro?’
‘Nothing. And don’t call me Bro. You’re not a US rapper. You’re from Surrey.’
‘Just trying to stay down with the kids.’ She raised her hand for a high five.
He ignored her. ‘Well don’t. It’s embarrassing.’
Zac appeared downstairs.
‘Where’s Poppy?’
‘Playing with her dolls. She didn’t want to come down.’
Gemma tutted. ‘You need to fetch her, Will. You mustn’t indulge her by allowing her to stay isolated so much.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ he snapped. ‘I’m well aware of that.’
Gemma raised her hands. ‘I’m just saying.’
‘Well, don’t.’ He didn’t need his sister pointing out his shortcomings.
‘Chill, guys. I’ll fetch her, okay?’ Zac ran upstairs, clearly unwilling to get embroiled in another family argument.
Will was saved from further criticism on his parenting skills by his parents’ car pulling into the driveway.
He used it as an excuse to escape Gemma and went out to help his dad carry in the pasta salads his mum had prepared.
‘Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad.’ He kissed them both. They were dressed in their Sunday church best. ‘How are you both?’
‘Good, thanks.’ His dad closed the car boot.
‘Are you okay, love?’ His mum handed him two large bowls. ‘You look tired. Are you sleeping okay?’
‘I’m sleeping fine,’ he lied.
‘And Poppy?’
‘She’s fine too.’ He forced a smile. ‘Head through to the garden. The rest of the clan have just arrived.’
Will followed them into the house, pleased to note that his daughter had now emerged from her bedroom. She greeted her grandparents with a hug, and then ran off to play with Colin the Rabbit. Not exactly sociable, but at least she was outdoors with everyone.
Zac joined Poppy at the end of the garden, and made an effort to keep his little cousin amused. He was a good lad.
Chris was by the BBQ. He’d lifted the lid and was fiddling with the controls, eager to take charge of the cooking. The archetypal control freak.
Will headed over. ‘You’re my guest, Chris. I don’t expect you to cook.’
‘I don’t mind.’ By which Will knew that Chris meant: I’d rather do it myself, so it gets done properly.
But Will wasn’t in the mood to pander to his brother-in-law’s pedantic standards when it came to barbequing. ‘Why don’t you open the wine?’ he said, engineering an excuse to keep Chris out of his hair while he cooked. ‘There’s a bottle opener on the table.’
Chris reluctantly stepped away from the BBQ. ‘Zac tells me you’ve offered him work on another project?’
‘That’s right.’ Will fired up the gas BBQ. ‘Should be a good one.’
Chris didn’t look convinced. ‘A summer fête?’
Only Chris could refer to The Royal Windsor Festival as a ‘fête’. ‘It’s a celebration of nine hundred years of Royal residency at Windsor Castle,’ Will replied, as he adjusted the heat on the BBQ. ‘It’s a huge project. Our biggest to date. We’ve had to overcome competition from a dozen other companies to win the contract. Arranging an entire festival is no mean feat and we’re taking on dozens of extra staff – caterers, carpenters, security, you name it. Not to mention an independent film production company. Zac’s in charge of hair and make-up for the actors involved in the tour guide film. This is a big step up for him. Me, too.’
‘Right.’ Chris glanced in Zac’s direction. ‘Not my cup of tea. But my son seems keen enough.’
Poor Zac. Will wondered how the kid felt about being the source of such disapproval. ‘It’s good to know he’s excited about the project. Zac’s an essential part of the team. We’re lucky to have him.’
Chris decorked the bottle. ‘You don’t need to pacify me.’
Will frowned. ‘What makes you think I’m doing that?’
‘You only hire Zac because he’s family. Let’s not pretend it’s for any other reason. Maybe if you didn’t encourage him to mess about with all this hair and make-up stuff, he’d see that he needs a proper career. One in which he’ll be respected and valued. And one that enables him to earn a decent wage.’
Will was dumbfounded. ‘You think I only hire Zac because he’s family?’
Did his brother-in-law think that’s why he hired Gemma, too? ‘Chris, TaylorMade Events is a very successful business.’
‘I know that.’
‘And it’s because of the people we have on board working for us… which includes Gemma and Zac.’
Chris nodded. ‘It’s good for Gemma to have an interest, a side project to keep her occupied.’
‘A side project?’ Was this guy for real? Will picked up a glass and held it out so Chris could pour him some much-needed wine. ‘Gemma is our Finance Director.’
‘I know that.’
‘You make her sound like a part-time payroll clerk.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Chris wiped the bottle’s rim with a piece of kitchen towel.
‘Good. Because she’s an integral part of the company. A key player. It’s a highly demanding role, in which she excels.’
Chris looked taken aback. ‘Well, good.’
‘Too right.’ Will took a slug of wine, craving the alcohol. ‘And Zac is proving himself to be professional, reliable and willing to put in the hours. So don’t for a minute think I cut him any slack because he’s ‘family’. He’s expected to work as hard as everyone else, and he does. That’s why I hire him, no other reason.’
‘Well, that’s good.’
‘And as for earning a decent salary? Zac’s going to be in high demand soon. I’ll struggle to afford him.’
Chris looked sceptical. ‘Really?’
‘Really. Now excuse me, I need to fetch the meat from the kitchen.’ Will walked off, incredulous at the cluelessness of his brother-in-law. How the hell his sister put up with such patronising crap, he didn’t know.
But his hassles were far from over. His mum collared him in the kitchen the moment he stepped through the doorway.
‘Will, love, have you given any more thought to Poppy joining the country club? Your father and I are more than happy to pay for her membership.’ She removed a stack of cutlery from the drawer.
Not this again. ‘That’s a kind offer, Mum, but Poppy isn’t keen.’
‘We think it would be good for her,’ she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘They have all sorts of activities for youngsters. Tennis. Horseriding. Badminton. Even dance classes. I’m sure she’d love to do dance. Most girls her age do.’
He opened the fridge door and removed the trays of meat. ‘Poppy isn’t most girls.’
‘And why is that?’
He stopped to look at her. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Her expression softened. ‘We don’t mean to be critical, love. You do a great job with her, but she needs to get out more.’ She moved towards him, her expression all motherly and determined. ‘You know, socialise with other kids. Not be so introverted.’
He banged the trays onto the kitchen island. ‘You think I don’t know that?’
‘Well, yes, but—’
‘But what?’ He was tired of everyone constantly offering an opinion.
‘Sometimes children need guidance from their parents.’
‘Meaning?’
His mum lowered her voice. ‘She might need a little push.’
He tried to control the anger brewing inside him. ‘I’m not going to force my daughter to do something she doesn’t want to do, Mum.’
Her cheeks flushed. ‘Oh, dear, I’m not expressing this very well. I didn’t mean force. I meant, encourage.’
‘It’s the same thing.’ He moved away. They were on opposite sides of the island. Battle lines drawn.
‘No, it isn’t.’ He was subjected to a ‘you’re being unreasonable’ look. ‘Poppy didn’t want to go on that camp trip, did she? But you managed to persuade her and look how much fun she had.’
Will rubbed his forehead. ‘I didn’t persuade her into going, I just allayed her fears about going. There’s a difference. It was her decision to go. Hers alone. And if she hadn’t wanted to go, I wouldn’t have forced her.’
‘Well, maybe in future you need to be more assertive.’ His mother moved to his side of the island. ‘Bring her along to the country club one Sunday. Show her there’s nothing to be afraid of.’
‘Mum, I know you mean well, but I know what I’m doing. It would be great if Poppy had better confidence and wanted to do more things, but I’m not going to force her. I’m sure she’ll start doing things as she gets older, and when she does, she’ll have my full support. Until then, I’m not going to push it. If she says no to something, then no it is.’
‘We think you’re making a mistake.’
‘Who is this “we”?’
‘Me, your dad… and Gemma.’
‘Great.’ He backed away. ‘Lovely to have the support of my family.’
‘Will, please.’ She reached for him. ‘Don’t take it like that. We’re only trying to help.’
‘If you want to help, then stop criticising my every decision.’
‘We don’t, darling. We think you’re doing an amazing job…’ she trailed off, a silent ‘but’ hanging in the air.
‘But?’
‘Well… it’s hard for a young girl to be without a mother.’
His anger spilled over. ‘You think I don’t know that? I’m reminded of it every bloody day.’
‘Poppy’s a sensitive girl. She’s not strong-willed and self-sufficient like you or Gemma were as kids, she needs a guiding hand.’
‘And she gets one,’ he snapped.
His mum’s expression turned disapproving. ‘Be honest, love. You work long hours, you’re not at home as much as she needs. We do our best to help out with childcare, but it’s not ideal.’
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘So now I neglect my daughter?’
‘Stop twisting my words. You have to work, of course you do, but Poppy needs more in her life. Something to occupy her while you’re out earning. Something that will help her grow in confidence and become more sociable.’
His phone rang.
He’d never been more grateful in his life. The interruption prevented him from falling out big time with his mother. Something he really didn’t want to do, but was looking increasingly likely.
He headed into the hallway, away from his disappointed-looking mother. ‘Will Taylor,’ he snapped into the phone.
‘Hi, Will. It’s Frankie Roberts. Sorry to disturb you on a Sunday.’
‘No worries. Is there a problem?’ Frankie was one of his project managers. A gregarious woman with big ginger hair and an equally big laugh.
‘I’ve had a call from Nina Munford’s husband. She’s been taken into hospital. Suspected burst appendix.’
‘Christ.’ Will closed his study door behind him. ‘Is she okay?’
‘They hope so, but she’s not going to be available for the festival. I thought you should know asap.’
Shit. And they were due to start filming next month. He rubbed his forehead. ‘Thanks, Frankie. I appreciate you letting me know.’
‘Do you need me to do anything?’
‘No, don’t worry. I’ll find a replacement. Give my love to Nina, if you see her. I hope she makes a speedy recovery.’
‘Will do, boss. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.’
‘It’s not your fault. I appreciate the call.’
‘See you at the prep meeting tomorrow?’
‘Looking forward to it.’ Will ended the call, struggling to contain his frustration.
Where the bloody hell was he going to find an experienced costume designer at such short notice? Talented designers were booked months in advance. Years, even. There wouldn’t be anyone available. He was screwed.
He kicked the wastepaper bin, toppling it over. What a day it was turning out to be. His brother-in-law had accused him of nepotism. His parents and sister thought he was a crap parent. And now he was short of a costume designer for the biggest event of his career.
He slumped into his office chai
r, letting his head drop onto the desk. What the hell was he going to do?
Could they hire the costumes? No, his whole pitch had been based on recreating historical authenticity and he’d won over the clients with the promise of a set of bespoke designs. One-offs, emulating the couture fashions of the various periods.
And then he sat upright, struck by an idea.
He knew exactly what he was going to do.
He was going to hunt down Lily Monroe and see if he could beg her into helping him out. She was a costume designer, after all. Making one-offs was her speciality.
She might come to his rescue. Save his project and dig him out of a hole.
There was the minor issue of him having lied to her about his personal life, but he could rectify that. He’d come clean and confess the truth.
She’d understand. At least, he hoped she would. They could start afresh and put any misunderstandings behind them.
And besides, this was a business arrangement. It wasn’t personal. There was nothing romantic about them working together, he was hiring her expertise. There was no other motivation for wanting to contact her, just the need for her professional services.
Right.
Who the hell was he kidding?
Chapter Ten
Six weeks later…
Lily was regretting her decision not to hire a taxi. It had seemed wasteful to pay for a lift when her lodgings were only a ten-minute walk from the station, but what the helpful train guard at Riverside Station had omitted to mention was that the walk was entirely uphill, and involved wheeling her suitcase over bumpy centuries old cobbles.
She stopped to catch her breath and wiped her forehead with her sleeve. It was a warm June day. The bright sunlight added to the trials of dragging her luggage while trying to follow the directions on her phone.
Continue walking past the castle, Google Maps instructed. Castle? What castle?
She glanced up.
Oh, that castle. Where had that sprung from?
Looming above her was Windsor Castle. A huge grey construction with grand turrets and a sweeping lawn where a moat would have once been. It dominated the view, mounted on a hill, overlooking the town below. And to think she’d nearly missed it.
Someone Like You: Escape with this perfect uplifting romance Page 12
