She’d never dwel ed on how this must have made her brothers feel. ‘Did they real y resent me going to col ege and getting a degree?’ she asked.
‘A bit, to be honest,’ Sondra said, shifting uncomfortably on her nest of pil ows.
‘Do you want help?’ Cleo asked uncertainly.
Sondra nodded. ‘I can’t stay in the same position for long. If I sit forward, can you rearrange the pil ows?’
Cleo did her best, then gently helped her sister-in-law to sit back. It was the most sisterly gesture she’d ever made for Sondra. ‘I was afraid the boys didn’t get in touch because of the money,’ Cleo said final y. ‘That they’d want my share
…’ ‘As if your father would let that happen!’ Cleo saw a flash of the old Sondra. ‘Your share is stil there.’ ‘But why didn’t they get in touch with me when Mum and Dad asked them to?’
‘They were angry and they both thought it would do you good to cool your heels for a while. And then so much time had passed, they didn’t have the courage to phone. They thought they’d left it too long. But they’l be glad you’re here now. Barney hates rows. Just don’t do your old “I’m right and you’re wrong” thing when you see him, Cleo. You have to respect people’s feelings.’
‘Pot, kettle and black!’ retorted Cleo.
‘Hel o, stranger.’
Cleo turned to see Barney standing in the kitchen doorway, carrying several grocery bags. He looked exactly the same as ever: a bit rumpled, his face with its mischievous expression that hadn’t changed since he was a kid, but there were definitely a few more lines around his eyes. The row had affected them al , she thought in surprise. Funny how she’d thought she was the only one hurting.
‘Took you long enough to come back,’ he grumbled.
‘Another few weeks and you’d have been an aunt and you wouldn’t have known.’
‘I know, sorry.’ Al Cleo’s plans for a grand argument went out the window at the sight of Barney. She thought of how her big brothers had been intimidated by her intel igence and she felt a rush of love for them both. ‘You’re not going to win any awards for staying in touch either, you know,’ she said fondly, going over and hugging him, shopping bags and al . ‘Have you rung Mum and Dad yet?’
Cleo shook her head.
‘Wel …’ said Barney, ‘you could always not mention that me and Jason didn’t meet up with you to talk you round, and not say we didn’t … ?’
‘You mean Mum wil kil you both if she finds out?’ ‘That’s about the size of it.’
‘I’l phone them,’ said Sondra decisively.
She picked up the phone and had dial ed before Cleo could begin to feel anxious. She waited for Sondra to say hi, but there was no reply so Sondra left a message. ‘Hi, Sheila. Give us a cal when you get this?’
Jason and his new girlfriend, Liz, were invited up for dinner.
‘You have to cook the chicken, Cleo,’ instructed Sondra. ‘I can’t and Barney can only do cremations or raw food experiments. My heartburn’s bad enough as it is.’
Cleo made her speciality: spatchcocked chicken in barbecue
sauce. She’d cooked it one night for dinner in Irish’s and al of the men in the house had adored it and wanted seconds.
‘The way to a man’s heart, that,’ sighed Ron.
‘No, the way to a man’s heart is through his ribs,’ joked Trish.
‘This is great,’ said Liz enthusiastical y as they al tucked into the meal round Sondra and Barney’s kitchen table.
Cleo could see what Sondra meant about Liz: she was lovely, gentle and sweet, and attractively voluptuous. ‘Yeah, great,’ said Sondra, eating happily for two. Barney and Jason ate like two men who’d just finished a twenty-four-hour fast. Staying with tradition, they said nothing complimentary about the food.
‘Jason,’ hissed Liz, ‘tel your sister how good it is! Where are your manners?’
‘It’s very good, sis,’ mumbled Jason between mouthfuls.
Cleo grinned at Liz. She was definitely the sort of woman Jason needed.
Liz and Sondra encouraged the two men to do the washing up and Cleo said she’d join them.
‘But you cooked everything,’ protested Liz. ‘Sit down.’ ‘I don’t mind,’ said Cleo, thinking it would give her a chance to talk to her brothers.
Alone in the kitchen with Jason and Barney, Cleo washed, Barney dried laboriously and Jason put away with a great clattering of dishes.
‘I’d hate this row to linger for ever,’ she said tentatively.
‘Chil out, sis,’ said Jason. ‘It’s al cool.’ ‘Yeah, it’s fine,’
Barney added. ‘You’ve got some temper, though, Cleo.’
‘Tel me about it!’ said Jason. ‘I stil have a mark on my shin from your Tiny Tears dol . Remember you whacked me with it when I tried to take it off you at your fourth birthday party?’
Putting away the dishes was abandoned while Jason rol ed up his trouser leg to show said mark.
‘I’ve stil got a dodgy col arbone from that time you persuaded me to slide down the front banisters,’ Cleo retorted. She didn’t know if a col arbone could be dodgy eighteen years after healing, but she didn’t want this comparison of scars to be one-sided. ‘You said I’d be in your gang if I slid down and I was barely five,’ she added.
‘Mum nearly kil ed you for egging me on.’ ‘We wouldn’t let you in our gang afterwards anyway,’ said Barney. ‘Sorry.
We were horrors.’
‘And you cal ed me Crosspatch Cleo,’ she said, thinking of how she’d hated the name, hated feeling left out of her brothers’ games.
‘You broke my ant farm over that,’ Jason laughed. ‘There were ants everywhere for months. You’ve always had a temper, Cleo. Nothing’s changed! Barney, what was it Dad said when we sold the hotel? If Cleo knew the Roths had bought the hotel, she’d rage like a tornado. What?’ he said to Barney, who was giving him the evil eye. ‘I only said ‘
‘You knew Roth Hotels had bought the Wil ow?’ asked Cleo in a strange voice, feeling as though the world were turning upside down.
‘Don’t go mad!’ begged Barney. ‘They put in a fantastic offer and the bank were hounding Dad for money … there was no option. We knew you’d hate it, but we al hated it.
Why should you hate it more than the rest of us? It was our home too.’ Cleo couldn’t speak.
‘What does it matter who you sel to when you’re sel ing?’
Barney asked. ‘It wouldn’t be any easier to walk past and see a load of town houses there rather than a posh hotel, would it? Either way, it wouldn’t be in our family.’ Sondra appeared at the door, alerted by the raised voices. ‘You’re not arguing again?’ she demanded.
Cleo shook her head. ‘The Malin family arguments are over,’ she said. ‘The boys are fil ing me in on the details about the Roths.’
‘They’l make a fortune out of the Wil ow, I shouldn’t wonder,’
said Sondra gloomily. ‘Probably revamp it and make it al modern.’
And Cleo, who’d seen the sketches for the elegant restoration project, could say nothing. She felt such a fool.
She’d walked out on Tyler and walked out on her family because her temper had got the better of her. And in both cases, it had been a mistake. Would she ever learn?
They had coffee and talked until half-nine, when Cleo said she real y had better cal a taxi as she was on reception early next morning at Cloud’s Hil .
‘We’l drop you there,’ said Jason.
Cleo was getting her things when the phone rang. ‘It’s Mum,’ said Barney, looking at the cal er ID. ‘You take it, Cleo.’ Cleo’s mouth went dry. ‘Hi, Mum,’ she said shakily.
‘Cleo, love, is Sondra having the baby? Is there something wrong?’
‘No, no,’ said Cleo, and thought how once that would have annoyed her because she’d take it to mean that Sondra was more important than she was and had to be enquired about first. Now she was able to see that a heavily pregnant family member would take precedence in most phone conversations. Imagine when the baby was born. Just as wel they’d sorted out the whole family pecking order thing before that. ‘Sondra is fine. I’m here with the boys, and Liz, and we al wanted to talk to you.’
‘You’re sure Sondra’s al right? You’re not breaking it to me gently?’ asked her mother suspiciously. ‘It’s been such a difficult pregnancy …’
‘Promise. Sondra’s fine.’
‘Hiya, Sheila,’ roared Sondra from her spot in the big armchair. ‘Stil here, stil pregnant.’
‘Thank God for that! Cleo, I missed you. We both missed you.’
Cleo’s eyes stung with tears. ‘Me too, Mum. I’m sorry. I was upset and ‘
‘Harry, come here, it’s Cleo on the phone!’ There was no mistaking the joy in her mother’s voice.
There was the noise of the phone being grabbed by someone else.
‘Cleo, we love you!’ said her father, sounding choked. ‘Me too, Dad,’ repeated Cleo. ‘I love you both and I’m so, so sorry but I loved the hotel and I didn’t realise how bad things were.’
‘I should have told you,’ Harry said. ‘I couldn’t do it. I knew it would break your heart and then we had to do the deal quickly or lose it and, I could hardly phone you up in Bristol and tel you the news. Especial y about …’ he hesitated.
‘Roth Hotels. I know, Dad,’ Cleo said quietly. ‘Barney’s right. He said it didn’t matter who we sold it to once we had to sel it. I’m sure Roth Hotels wil do a fine job of it.’ A sigh on the other end of the phone told her of her father’s relief.
‘They wil too, love. The smal hotelier is never going to like the big one, but I have to say, the Roth Hotels are a credit to them. Now, when are you coming to France to see us?
We’ve got a lovely vil a in the Ardeche and we have it for another two weeks. It’s not big or in any way grand, but there are two spare rooms and one of them is yours if you want it.’
‘Oh, Dad,’ said Cleo. ‘I’ve got a new job but as soon as I can organise a few days off, I’m there!’
After a few minutes talking to her dad - he was fascinated to hear about her time in McArthur’s and would have talked for ages about Cloud’s Hil - Mum came back on the line.
‘Seriously, Cleo,’ she said, ‘I was very upset for lots of reasons. I know you’re headstrong, but I thought we had a better relationship than that. Not to phone or write or anything, even when Barney and Jason talked to you.’
Cleo didn’t have to think before speaking: her father would kil the boys if he knew what had happened. She might tel her mother some other time but not just yet. Let the family settle
back into the way it was before first. ‘Sorry, Mum,’ she said contritely. ‘I’ve no excuse. Crosspatch Cleo, that’s me.’ ‘No it isn’t,’ her mother said affectionately. ‘We love you, you know. You’re the best feather in my wing and it’s always going to be hard on you because you take everything so personal y.’ ‘I know, Mum. I’m learning, though. Promise.’
‘And you’l come out to see us soon?’
Cleo knew that Leah would be thril ed to hear that she’d been in touch with her family again. She had two days off next week, so if she worked a couple of extra shifts, she could maybe take a long weekend … ‘I’l be there in a week,’ she said. ‘And I can’t wait to see you both.’
Jason punched his sister lightly on the arm when she got off the phone. ‘Thanks for not saying anything about us not getting in touch, sis,’ he said. ‘Dad would have kil ed us if he’d known. Should have let you in our gang after al .’
‘As long as you let me in it now,’ Cleo said, cuffing him back.
Jason and Liz drove her back to Cloud’s Hil as night was fal ing.
‘Wow, this is some place,’ said Jason as they arrived at the house. There was a big black car parked where Leah usual y parked, Cleo noticed, but didn’t think any more about it. Leah must have guests and told them to park in her slot. ‘Yes, it is a beautiful place, isn’t it?’ she said to Jason, seeing Cloud’s Hil afresh with his eyes. ‘I love working here, although it’s stil hard to be here, working in Carrickwel , and not in the Wil ow.’
Liz leaned back and gave her an encouraging pat on the arm. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Liz,’ Cleo said warmly. She got out of the car and so did Jason.
‘Nice to see you, sis,’ he said gruffly.
‘Oh, come here,’ Cleo said, and grabbed him into a bear hug. ‘Missed you,’ Jason said in a muffled voice.
‘I missed you too; I missed al of you.’ Cleo stood back and smiled affectionately at her brother. ‘Take care of yourself, and Liz: she’s good for you.’
‘You mind yourself too,’ Jason said.
In the near darkness, neither of them noticed the man sitting in the strange car in Leah’s parking slot, a man with close cropped hair, who watched the whole exchange with interest. ‘Bye.’ Cleo waved them off down the drive, then went into Cloud’s Hil . It had been such an emotional day and she was worn out.
It was a glorious late summer day as Mel brought Sarah and Carrie to the park for their afternoon walk. Sarah launched herself through the gates, her skinny little arms waving with delight. The park was in ful late-summer bloom, the footpaths dusty, the grass going yel ow in places, and wild flowers sending seeds spindling off on the breeze for next year.
‘Oh, look, Mummy, fairy flowers.’
Sarah liked to cal flowers different names and she thought that daisies, of which there were mil ions rampant at the front gates of Abraham Park, should belong to the fairies.
Dandelions were for elves, because she didn’t like either elves or dandelions. And dog roses, like the ones that twined themselves round the railings of the tiny pavilion with the peeling paint, belonged to God because she’d never been able to say God when she was younger and said dog instead.
Now she beamed up at her mother, and rushed off the path into the grass where a crop of daisies drifted. ‘Fawies,’
said Carrie adoringly. ‘Fawies.’
The two sisters giggled and threw themselves onto the grass by the playing field, on a mission to pick as many daisies as possible. A black mongrel, which they’d often seen before, galumphed into the middle of the girls’ game, whirling excitedly, tail wagging at high speed, pink tongue lol ing. ‘You’re squishing me!’ yel ed Sarah, but she hugged him al the same.
Then he bounced up to Mel, pushing his velvety nose into the bag that contained the girls’ drinks and the goodies.
Mel patted the dog and gave him a bit of biscuit. ‘Come on, girls, let’s go to the playground.’