by Mona Marple
Connie raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“Come on, man, they’ll be scoping out the best rooms. I’ll help you get the bags,” Taylor said, but the three teenagers thundered down the stairs. Two girls and a boy, each physically striking. They had their mother’s looks, even the one who had dyed her hair pink.
A car horn blared from outside and Connie followed the crowd to greet whoever else was arriving. By her calculations only one of the brothers was left to arrive.
Outside stood a white Rolls Royce. Connie watched as the driver, dressed in top and tails, opened the door. A man with foppish brown hair and a dazzling smile appeared first, then waited to offer his hand to a woman with cropped blond hair and foxy features. He planted a kiss on her cheek and the two of them waved towards the Manor.
“Dear God, who do they think they are? The Kennedys?” Eliza moaned. Lynn said nothing.
“Is this…?” Connie began to ask.
“Bobby and Grace,” Taylor whispered. A younger man in torn jeans and a leather jacket climbed out of the car next, followed by a woman with blond shoulder-length hair and bright blue eyes. She leaned back in to the vehicle and emerged again holding the hand of a young girl with ebony skin and intricate braids.
“Hold on,” Connie murmured as her gaze flicked back to the man in the leather jacket. “Isn’t that…”
“Luke Holland, yep,” Taylor admitted with a grimace.
“Your nephew is Luke Holland and you never told me?”
“It isn’t the easiest conversation to have,” Taylor said. “And anyway, he’s married to my niece. He isn’t my nephew.”
“I kind of think being married to your niece makes him your nephew,” Connie muttered. “I was singing along to his new song last week and you never said a thing! I feel so silly.”
“Don’t,” Taylor gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s a good song. I sing along too. And the little I know about Luke tells me he’s pretty down to earth.”
“Clearly, that’s why they’ve arrived in a chauffeur driven Rolls Royce!”
“Oh no, that’s all Bobby,” Taylor said with a grin. “Luke’s a motorbike and guitar kind of guy.”
“Luke isn’t allowed to be a motorbike kind of guy anymore,” the young woman who was his wife said with a wink, then leaned in for an air kiss with Taylor. “Good to see you.”
“Oh, my! You must be Connie!”
Connie turned and saw Grace approach her with a smile. She returned the smile as she looked the woman up and down. Was she wearing an apron?
“Grace? It’s great to meet you!”
Grace pulled her into an embrace, then let go as quick as she’d grabbed on. She flailed her arms around until the child was within reach, and pulled her over. “Now, meet my granddaughter Roo. Isn’t she the most precious thing you’ve ever seen?”
Connie glanced down at the dark-skinned child and nodded. The girl was beautiful. “Hello Roo, I’m Connie.”
“I know,” Roo said with a shrug.
“Mother,” Bobby’s voice was crisp as he leaned down and planted a kiss on Eliza’s cheek. He reared back and looked at the nurse. “Lynn. All ok?”
Lynn gave a fraction of a nod.
“Where’s the other one?” Eliza snapped.
“Rose is arriving later,” Bobby said. “She’s on an important deadline.”
“She’s always imagined her time’s more important than everyone else’s,” Eliza huffed. She turned her attention to Grace. “What are you wearing?”
Grace made a show of looking down and spotting the apron, then gave a high-pitched giggle. “Oh my! Silly me! I forgot to take this old thing off. I was baking before we set off. I remember how you like my lemon drizzle cake, mom.”
Eliza screwed her nose up. “Do you have to call me that? I’m not your mother. I had four children too many, let’s not make it any worse than that!”
Grace reached down and patted Eliza’s hand. “I’ll go and cut some cake. We can have a nice catch up.”
Connie allowed everyone else to exchange kisses and brief introductions with her, even Luke Holland the country singer, and when they’d all retreated indoors with promise of coffee and cake, she remained outside and let out a breath.
“You’re doing great,” Taylor reached for her hand.
“So there’s Christopher and Lottie, they have the teenagers.”
“Don’t even try to remember their names, you won’t see them this weekend. Mother hates children, as you might have already worked out.”
“And Christopher’s the oldest? The lawyer?”
Taylor nodded. “Then there’s Bobby and Grace. Their daughter Rose isn’t here yet. She’s a total card. Always protesting one thing or another.”
“And Zeb is single?” Connie asked.
“No,” Taylor said. “Although he might as well be. His wife Dottie, she’s a doctor. Rarely comes along to family events. I think she claims to be on call a lot more than she actually is.”
“Okay, I think I’m getting my head around it all,” Connie said with a smile.
“You just need to remember that they’re all as bad as each other. Every one of these people would stab you as soon as your back was turned, so keep your guard up.”
Connie laughed, but his words unsettled her. She gave Taylor a smile and returned indoors, thought she’d check on the babies. Their room seemed so far away, all the way up that grand staircase, and she was worried that she wouldn’t hear if they woke.
She climbed the stairs and turned onto the East Wing with its heavy oak-panelled walls and framed oil paintings. Laughter came from behind one door and the sound seemed so out of place that she paused outside the door and listened.
“Zeb!” A woman’s voice gasped from inside.
Connie pursed her lips and continued on to the twins’ room.
3
Daylight had completely faded by the time Connie returned downstairs. She had sat in the nursery room in the gloom, watching the twins’ little bodies move with their breathing. They looked like angels when they were asleep.
Taylor furrowed his brow towards her when she joined everyone in the lounge. She went to his side and plopped down.
“Everything okay?”
She nodded and surveyed the room. A grand piano sat in the corner and the girl, Roo, sat at the stool, her finger occasionally plinking a key. Eliza let out a theatrical groan each time that happened.
“Isn’t it past the child’s bedtime?” She snapped.
Daisy, the girl’s mother, bristled. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“Daisy,” Grace chided her. “Be nice to your grandmother. She’s arranged this whole weekend for us all. We’re really very lucky.”
“Stupidest idea I ever had,” Eliza said. “Are we eating tonight?”
“We’re waiting for Rose,” Grace raised her voice, then glanced across at Zeb who was deep in conversation with Luke. “And Dottie, if she’s coming.”
“If I can manage to get here on time, in my condition, I don’t see why I should have to wait for other people. Zebediah, is your wife joining us?”
Zeb paused mid-sentence and gave a brief nod, then glanced at Lottie, who was looking elsewhere.
“I’ll sit on the edge of my seat looking forward to her company,” Eliza said.
“Does she like any of them?” Connie whispered.
“Nah,” Taylor said with a morose smile.
“Why have you gathered us all here tonight anyway, mother?” Christopher asked with his booming voice. He sat on a high-back chair and Connie noticed how craggy his skin was. He was a lawyer and she could imagine him in a boardroom, making deals and talking in corporate jargon.
Eliza leaned forward in her wheelchair and fixed her eyes on his, then extended her index finger and scraped a talon of a nail along the side of her nose. “Never you mind.”
“Fine,” Christopher said. “Be like that. You and your secrets.”
“We’ve all got secrets, Christ
opher,” Eliza said with a glare. “I could tell you things about your brothers. Oh, the things I could tell you!”
Zeb stood up and left the room. Luke followed.
“Thick as thieves, those two are,” Christopher said. “What does your husband see in him, Daisy?”
Daisy had her head buried in a magazine that featured none other then Luke on the front cover. She reluctantly lowered it a fraction so she could see who was speaking to her. “Zeb takes an interest in his art.”
Christopher guffawed at that. Lottie lay on the floor, stretching. Her body was pert and toned and left little to the imagination in yoga leggings and a fitted tank top.
“Just because you’re in the dark ages when it comes to the arts, Uncle Christopher, not everyone is the same,” Daisy said. “Luke can really open up to Zeb about the inspiration behind his work.”
“I closed a three million dollar deal last week,” Christopher said. “Saved hundreds of jobs. There are people putting food on the table this week because of my work and yet nobody’s talking to me about inspiration.”
“Don’t be a bore,” Lottie murmured from the floor.
“It’s true!” Christopher exclaimed, his face growing red. “That kid plays a few strings on a guitar and can half-carry a tune and we’re all meant to fawn over him!”
“I remember when you didn’t want him involved in the music industry, Daisy,” Lottie said with a sugary sweet smile. “Now you’re waltzing around telling people you’re his manager.”
Daisy’s cheeks flushed.
“Now that’s enough,” Grace snapped. “You can all bicker among yourselves as much as you want but you don’t bring my daughter into it.”
Bobby squeezed his wife’s hand but said nothing.
“Roo, why don’t you play us a tune darling?” Grace suggested. The girl prised her fingers over the keys and began to play. The tune was familiar, and Connie realised what it was at the same time as others in the room did. She was playing the tune of her father’s latest single.
Connie stifled a giggle.
“I was hoping we could find some time to talk about some ideas I’ve had,” Bobby called across to Eliza over the noise.
“No,” Eliza said with a shake of her head. She pulled her handbag on to her lap and busied herself searching through it.
Connie watched for a few moments, then leaned in to Taylor. “Does she need help?”
“Oh, no,” Bobby answered instead. “This is what she does when she doesn’t want to talk anymore. Mother? I do need to talk to you at some point.”
“With ideas?” Eliza sneered. Her long gray hair hung over her shoulders. It needed washing and Connie couldn’t imagine there would be many volunteers for that job. She pitied Lynn, who clearly must double up as the woman’s carer and without much thanks.
“Yes,” Bobby said. “I’ve been thinking…”
“That sounds dangerous,” Eliza said.
“He’s got some great ideas, mom, really,” Grace called. She’d grabbed her glass of wine and was swaying in the middle of the room to her granddaughter’s music.
“You’ve been talking to her about the family business?” Eliza snapped.
Grace rolled her eyes. “This has been my family too for 28 years!”
“Leave it, Grace,” Bobby soothed. “We’ll talk another time.”
“Don’t bother,” Eliza spat. “You’re no businessman, Bobby. You’re running that company into the ground. Your father must be turning in his grave.”
The room stilled into silence and even Roo’s playing paused for a moment, before Grace encouraged her to carry on.
Into that awkwardness, the front door burst open. A chill of cool air entered the room, followed by a young woman with blond curls and combat trousers, and an older woman with mousy features and a tweed jacket.
“Finally!” Eliza called by way of welcome. “Can we eat now?”
The younger woman surveyed the room and seized on the girl by the piano. “Roumjong! Great playing!”
“She’s going by Roo now,” Daisy said through gritted teeth. “I tell you that every time we see you.”
“Ah, yes, so it begins. The pillaging of her cultural history. Not satisfied with claiming these photogenic dark-skinned children as if they’re the latest fashion accessory, next comes the Americanisation of them!”
“Give it a rest, Rose,” Daisy muttered.
“What’s she banging on about this time?” Eliza asked, suddenly hard of hearing again.
“You don’t want to know,” Christopher grumbled.
“I’m talking about the arrogance of white families adopting black children, gran,” Rose said with a smirk.
“Someone’s talking sense at last,” Eliza said.
Daisy jumped up from the settee and escorted Roo out by the hand. “Come on, sweetie, let’s go and help daddy write a new song!”
“Wow,” Connie breathed.
“I’ll go after her,” Grace said. She planted a kiss on Rose’s head on her way out of the room, wine glass in hand.
“So…” Eliza drawled. Her beady eyes seemed to assess each person in turn as if choosing the next victim. Connie gulped when the woman’s eyes fixed on her own. “You’re not marrying her?”
Taylor sat up straight beside her. “We’re not in any rush.”
“Well you won’t be of course. Why buy the cow when you’re getting the milk for free? But her? Doesn’t she have any standards?”
“Her name is Connie,” Taylor said. “You can use her name. And frankly it’s nobody else’s business.”
“As long as you don’t mind living in sin,” Lottie called from the floor. She turned to Connie and winked.
“Are you stretching for a reason?” Connie asked, a desperate attempt to move the conversation away from herself.
“Oh,” Lottie said absentmindedly. One leg was raised midway from the floor and the sight of it seemed to catch her by surprise. “Habit, I guess.”
“Lottie’s a dance instructor,” Christopher said. His craggy face exploded into a smile. It was easy to see what he had to smile about, she must have been almost 30 years younger than him. He was not just the cat who’d got the cream, he was the fat cat lawyer who’d got the cream.
“Oh, nice,” Connie struggled to find anything of substance to say in response to that. “It keeps you in good shape then.”
“As in shape as I’ll ever be after having three children,” Lottie said.
“Speaking of children, they’re very quiet up there,” Christopher said.
Lottie nodded and pushed herself up from the floor, giving Connie a closer look at the curves of her derriere than was necessary. “I’ll go.”
“They’re dropping like flies,” Connie said with a smile.
“The whole weekend will be the same,” Taylor said. “We can manage about five minutes of each other’s company without something erupting.”
Connie nodded, then noticed the woman in the tweed blazer move out of the doorway and disappear from view.
“Who is that?” Connie asked.
“Oh, that’s Dottie,” Taylor said. “Zeb’s wife, the doctor. She’s the one to envy. She has so little to do with the family it’s like she’s invisible when she does show up.”
4
Grace returned downstairs and took up place in the kitchen. She pulled out the heavy wooden chopping board and the sharpest knife from the block.
The industrial sized fridge had been stocked with a shopping list that she had provided to Eliza, because Lord knows that woman hadn’t cooked in decades. Even when she was able-bodied, she’d been a chicken nuggets and chips kind of mother. The thought made Grace wince as she arranged vegetables on the counter.
“Can I help?”
Grace gave a slight shake of her head as she reached back in the fridge for the joint of meat. She placed it in a deep baking tray then glanced up at Taylor’s new lady friend. “Trust me, this is the one chance I get for some privacy during these awful re
unions.”
Connie smiled at Grace. “They can’t be that bad if you keep turning up.”
Grace sprinkled chunks of Himalayan sea salt across the top of the pork. Pork crackling was one of her specialities. “We don’t get a choice.”
“It must be tricky with Bobby running the business. Having his mum as his boss?” Connie asked. She sat down at one of the high stools set around the kitchen island, pretended she didn’t see Grace frown at the intrusion.
“I wouldn’t call her that,” Grace said. She drizzled olive oil across the meat and then added a few sprigs of rosemary. “She’s no more his boss than she’s everyone else’s.”
“Yours?” Connie asked with a smile.
Grace picked up the knife and the bag of potatoes then met Connie’s gaze. “This family will suck you up and spit you back out if you let it. That’s why I spend my energy on my family instead.”
“You do seem to have lovely girls,” Connie said. “And Roo was so confident playing the piano!”
“You have kids?” Grace asked. She saw the flash of emotion cross Connie’s face and saw that the comment had landed. Sure, Connie had officially adopted the twins. They were perhaps hers in the eyes of the law, but Grace knew a mother’s love couldn’t be settled in a court room or on a legal document.
“The twins are mine,” Connie said, with her back straight and chin up. It was the only answer she could give and she didn’t care how uppity it might make her sound. Those babies were hers in every way that mattered.
Grace raised her eyebrows and began to chop the potatoes. She arranged them around the edge of the pan so they surrounded the pork. “Well, I know those babies needed a mother and I’m sure you care about them. It’s different when you carry them in your body, of course, but not every woman can do that.”
Connie said nothing. Grace turned her back and leaned over to fetch a casserole dish. Her top stretched up her back and before she knew it, Connie murmured “Nice tattoo.”
Grace spun on her heel and pulled the top down, tucked it back into her jeans. Her cheeks were flushed. “A stupid mistake when I was young. I prefer to keep it… hidden.”
