All Mine (The All Mine Series), page 14
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Etienne
Brothers from Another Mother WhatsApp group
Fox: 2 p.m. at our house. George’s birthday party. Don’t be late.
Walker: I’ll be there.
Etienne: Me too.
Fox: Bring ear protectors. It’s going to be a noisy day.
Walker: Oops. Not just a noisy day, I’m afraid. Noisy year ahead . . .
Fox: Eh?
Walker: Are you going to tell him, Etienne, or shall I?
Fox: Tell me what?
Etienne: We bought him a drum kit.
Fox:
Etienne: Just kidding.
Fox:
Fox was not wrong about the noise. Ten three- and four-year-olds and their parents, plus some brothers and sisters and their friends, packed into Fox’s four-bedroomed family home almost had Etienne’s ears bleeding within ten minutes. The fact that the children were existing on sugar and adrenaline also raised the decibel levels.
He made his way through the house to the kitchen diner which opened onto the back garden. On his way, he passed Fox’s study where the door had been taped closed with police incident tape and a notice had been stuck firmly in place: STAY OUT OR DIE. Obviously, the game design was at a crucial stage then and couldn’t be put at risk by cake-high partygoers.
As he picked up a beer from the table marked Adults only, the birthday boy barrelled into his thighs and hugged him tight. Etienne scooped him up to shoulder height so that he could see him properly.
‘Happy birthday, George,’ he said to the freckled face, who grinned widely before wiggling like a bag of cats to be returned to the floor, where he took off through the sea of legs towards the garden.
Etienne followed, saying hello to those he knew, and nodding to those he didn’t. A couple of the mums watched him with heavy eyes as he walked past; smiling politely, he moved on.
Fox’s kitchen was the most family place he knew. It reminded him of his own home growing up: pictures on the fridge, birthday cards on the windowsill, photographs on a corkboard on the wall. A shelf full of cookery books – which Fox used daily to make sure he was getting nutrition into the boys – a calendar full of play dates in red, work deadlines in black. A wooden table with spaghetti Bolognese stains deeply ingrained. All that was missing was their mum. Many a night he and Walker had sat with Fox around that table in the early days, offering beer and friendship while Fox kept one ear on the baby monitor and one eye on the clock for the next feed. Today a Happy 4th Birthday! banner hung across the ceiling, while red and blue balloons were tied in bunches in the corners of the room. It was amazing how much things had changed. Etienne was here to celebrate that today, just as much as he was here to chuck his godson around.
That had been a surprise too. When Fox finally came out of his shock at having two children and no wife, George had been almost six months old: a chubby baby who always wore more of his food than he swallowed. Fox asked if Etienne would be his godfather, saying with a smile, ‘Walker got Reggie, it’s only fair.’ But then, in all seriousness, ‘Honestly, mate, you’ve been a lifesaver. I’d love it if you said yes.’ He’d been choked up, tears filling his eyes.
Etienne glanced at the corkboard as he went past. Fox had a passion for photo booths. Earlier photos had Fox holding fat-cheeked George wearing bibs and rompers, with Reggie hanging on the side. The boys changed across the corkboard, George growing teeth, Reggie losing teeth, both getting curly hair. Fox looked exactly the same in every picture − same smile, same silver hair, just a different checked shirt. Right at the bottom of the corkboard there was one of Fox and Meg. In that one, his hair was darker with a silver fleck at the temples. He smiled widely at the camera, as Meg pressed a kiss to his cheek.
‘You’re late!’ Fox shouted from the garden. ‘But I see you found the beer.’ He beckoned Etienne over to the circle he was in where everyone still wore coats and rosy cheeks.
‘And I’ve already seen the birthday boy,’ Etienne said, lifting his bottle to cheers with Walker as he joined the group, grinning at Rosie and Wren who had brought Riley, who was in the same nursery as George.
The garden had been set up with a bouncy castle, and children were flying in all directions. Etienne spotted Reggie as he ricocheted from one side to the other.
‘Here you go, Wren, Rosie.’ He knew, by the husky tone, that it was Isabella. She squeezed in alongside him, handing over glasses of lemonade to her friends while juggling a wine herself.
‘Not drinking?’ Fox asked. ‘Is there something we should know?’
‘Only that we are responsible parents at a birthday party for a four-year-old,’ Rosie said haughtily, sipping her lemonade.
‘And we do have a nice bottle chilling in the fridge at home for after we leave Riley here for her sleepover. So don’t worry about us.’
‘That’s a relief,’ Etienne said and then turned to Isabella. ‘How are you?’ he asked.
She paused momentarily before dropping her eyes and asking, ‘Fox, where’s your bathroom?’ And when he told her, she gave her glass to Walker, muttered an ‘excuse me’ and disappeared off into the house. Had she blanked him?
His suspicions were aroused again when, a few minutes later, she rejoined the group and slotted in on the other side of the circle, next to Rosie and Wren. He watched her, but she seemed to always be deep in conversation, never once looking his way. Although this didn’t give him the chance to catch her eye, it did give him the opportunity to admire her. Wavy hair hanging loose. Bright red trainers and ankle-length jeans. Her coat open to reveal her shirt tied at the front, offering a glimpse of her midriff. He thrust his free hand into his pocket, thinking about the way her skin had felt under his fingers. Still, she didn’t look at him.
‘Time for pass the parcel,’ Fox announced loudly, and a dozen children appeared from nowhere, assembling to sit cross-legged in a circle. They knew the rules. The music started, but it wasn’t a tinny nursery rhyme. Thanks to Fox, who always played music as he worked, Reggie and George knew their stuff. This game of pass the parcel was soundtracked by Usher. Fox handed a wrapped-up parcel to George, and he sniffed it and shook it and squeezed it before passing it on. Wren and Rosie edged nearer to help Riley if she needed it and Etienne saw his moment.
‘Hi,’ he said, closing the gap to Isabella. She looked even better up close. Her blue eyes flicked to look at him, then away, and her mouth parted slightly as if to speak before closing again.
‘How’s everything going?’ he asked. Suddenly, she pulled her phone from her pocket and, glancing at the screen, said hurriedly, ‘Sorry, I’ve got to get this,’ before turning away and rushing inside. What the hell?
The birthday cake came out and Fox lit the candles, and a million children leaned in to breathe their germs over the icing. Fox was in his element.
‘Blow out every candle and then make a wish,’ he said to George, who blew the longest exhale possible then screwed his eyes tight shut. Etienne smiled at his godson’s faith in wishes coming true.
‘Always make sure the candle is properly blown out, though, kids.’ Walker’s fire safety advice went unobserved by the crowd as they all surged forward for a slice of heaven.
Etienne saw Isabella out the corner of his eye, and she seemed to spot him at the same time and moved away to talk to some of the parents. She kept her eyes downcast, studiously not looking in his direction.
Once was nothing. Twice was a coincidence. Three times was obvious. She was avoiding him. Interesting. He sauntered over to join her. She was talking to a couple, the woman holding a sticky toddler on her hip.
‘So, how are you finding Honeybridge?’ the man was asking. ‘Settling in?’
‘I’m loving it,’ she said with a smile that faltered as Etienne approached. ‘Everyone’s so friendly.’
‘Did you move here with your husband?’ the woman asked, dabbing at her child’s grubby hands with a wipe.
‘No, just me,’ Isabella replied, and Etienne watched her back straighten at the question. He also saw the woman edge closer to her husband, laying claim on him.
‘You’ll want to join lots of clubs then, to meet local people,’ the woman said. ‘The rowing club has lots of single men,’ she said, making it abundantly clear her husband was taken. Etienne couldn’t help but smile.
‘Oh, I’m not looking for a man at the moment,’ said Isabella and she chose this exact moment to look directly at Etienne. ‘I’m concentrating on the restaurant. It’s easier without distractions. I might join some clubs, though. Good suggestion.’
‘What sort of things do you like? There’s archery? Running? Watercolour painting at the Maltings?’ the man suggested.
‘Or maybe photography?’ Etienne chipped in and couldn’t help but notice the flush that spread up her neck. Ha. Got her. So, she’d definitely looked at the photo.
‘Thanks,’ she said to the couple. ‘I’ll do some research.’ And with that, she turned and practically ran in the opposite direction, back towards the house.
‘She was nice,’ the husband said as they headed towards the bouncy castle.
‘Very pretty,’ the wife said, sniffing.
‘Was she? I didn’t notice,’ the husband replied, lying through his teeth for the sake of his marriage. Etienne snorted and had to turn it into a cough.
An hour later, most children had been taken home. All of them had a slice of cake, a party bag, a balloon, and a sugar high.
After the last acquaintances had left, Fox finally opened a beer and slumped in a deckchair beside Etienne and Walker. Wren, Rosie and Isabella sat on a bench seat. Riley, Reggie and George returned to the bouncy castle.
‘That went well,’ Fox said, watching the children slam into the inflatable walls like mini cannonballs. ‘George has had a great day.’
‘Four already. Can you believe it?’ Rosie said, watching Riley and George jump together, holding hands.
‘He’s a lovely boy,’ Isabella said.
‘And that’s all down to you, Fox,’ Wren said. ‘You should be proud.’
There was a short silence while everyone thought about the fact that he had raised the boys on his own. Meg’s sudden death had been such a shock.
‘Did George ask about Meg this year?’ Walker asked.
Fox took a swig of his beer before shaking his head. ‘Nope.’
Etienne put a hand on his shoulder.
‘But I told him she would love to have celebrated his birthday with him and that she’s blowing kisses from heaven.’
‘That’s lovely,’ Rosie said, rising from the blanket to give him a hug. Wren wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
‘The good thing is that the boys don’t remember her to miss her.’ Fox laughed softly. ‘It’s just me that does that.’
George torpedoed across the lawn and sprang into Etienne’s lap, narrowly missing kneeing him right in the nuts.
‘Let’s play hide-and-seek!’ he yelled far too loud and far too close to Etienne’s ear. Riley and Reggie stopped mid-bounce and turned like meerkats, awaiting the next words. Maybe it was on the back of what Fox had just said, but at that moment in time Etienne would have done anything in his power to make George happy.
‘Go on then!’ he said, tickling George’s ribs and making him squirm. ‘Everyone playing?’ He saw Wren pull Rosie to her feet and then extend a hand to Isabella. Walker’s eyes were already scouting the garden for hiding places.
‘I’ll seek first,’ said Fox, making the most of an extra minute in his deckchair.
‘Count to fifty!’ George shouted and took off, arms pumping like pistons, towards the house.
‘The office is out of bounds!’ Fox shouted back, before closing his eyes and counting out loud, ‘One, two, three . . .’
‘No peeking, Dad,’ Reggie warned before legging it round the corner.
Walker was already halfway up a tree, Rosie and Wren ran off holding hands and Isabella disappeared into the house. Etienne mentally scanned Fox’s house, thinking of best spots. Deciding that behind the sofa was a good option, he padded through to the living room only to find Reggie already lying there.
‘Taken!’ the boy said, looking surprisingly fierce, pointing at the door for Etienne to leave.
‘Okay, okay.’ Etienne raised his hands and backed away, laughing.
‘. . . thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven . . .’ Fox shouted from his deckchair.
Heading through the lounge, Etienne saw Riley’s purple trainers poking out from under the coat stand and heard Wren and Rosie giggling in another room and hushing each other. Glancing out the window, he saw Walker pull his legs up into the canopy of the tree and disappear from view. He was running out of time.
‘. . . forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven . . .’
He jogged past the cupboard under the stairs – too obvious by far – and through the hall to the big wardrobe where he knew they kept coats and skateboards. He only had a few seconds left as he pulled open the door. Isabella, standing inside surrounded by raincoats and woolly hats, blinked at the sudden light. Eyes wide, she wagged her finger at him fiercely. ‘No!’ she exclaimed.
‘Coming, ready or not!’ Fox shouted and Etienne stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him.
‘What are you doing?’ Isabella hissed.
‘Shhhh,’ he replied and slid in beside her in the dark.
‘Go and find your own hiding place,’ she whispered, and he felt her breath on his face.
‘Shhh,’ he urged again, as they heard footsteps approach the hall and then pass by, taking the stairs above their heads two at a time.
He could hear her breathing as they listened, and her body was pressed against his in the cramped space. She smelled of lemons, but he wasn’t sure if it was her shampoo or just her. She shifted, as though trying to put some distance between them but it was impossible. He grinned in the darkness as they followed Fox’s searching from room to room, punctuated with the odd floorboard creak and stifled laughter.
‘Found you!’ Fox suddenly shouted somewhere upstairs, as George’s giggles rang out. A second later the two of them passed the cupboard door again, talking about who they might find next. Isabella wriggled and the floor creaked. Etienne put his hand on her thigh to still her so that they wouldn’t be detected. He heard her sharp intake of breath at his touch but she didn’t remove his hand. As they listened to the seekers disappearing on their mission, he started to move his hand slowly, fingers spread wide, pushing it down her thigh to her knee and back towards the side of her hip, feeling the shape of her leg under the denim. She was strong and slender. He pictured her thighs wrapped around his waist.
‘Found you!’ Fox and George shouted together from a room nearby and Rosie and Wren’s laughter rang out, followed by exclamations and chatter and noises of furniture being moved.
Etienne had played this game hundreds of times with the boys, but the act of hiding had never felt so delicious than standing here, in the dark, with his hand on Isabella’s leg. It was exciting in lots of ways that were nothing to do with children’s games.
‘So, why have you been avoiding me?’ he asked, his voice low, as his hand once again brushed down to her knee and squeezed.
‘I think it’s probably for the best,’ Isabella replied quietly.
‘Because of your sex ban?’ He drew delicate circles on her thigh with his thumb.
‘Because of my promise,’ she breathed into his ear.
‘Have you at least looked at the photograph?’ he teased and she growled, low in the back of her throat, a sound so sexual that he immediately wanted her to repeat it.
‘I’m taking that as a yes,’ he whispered, moving his hand millimetre by millimetre to her buttock. The seeking troop made a discovery outside in the garden, and there was a round of applause, no doubt for Walker up the tree. His lack of vision seemed to heighten Etienne’s other senses and he swallowed, smelling Isabella’s scent, feeling the tremor in her thigh.
‘Surely we don’t have to avoid each other, though?’ he said. ‘Do we, Isabella?’
‘It’s not that I want to exactly . . .’ Isabella’s voice trailed off and he heard her lick her lips.
His whole hand spread across her bum and squeezed.
‘What do you want then?’ he asked, thinking he knew exactly what he wanted. Her. Now. In this cupboard if needs be.
He heard the hitch in her breath.
‘This,’ she said, turning towards him, and then her mouth was on his in the black. Momentarily stunned, it took him a split second to respond to her full, parted lips. Her hand on his chest, gripping the front of his polo shirt, pulling him closer, deeper in. But then they crashed together, his hand winding into her hair, her curls tumbling over his arm. His other hand on her tightened and she made a sound into her kiss, a moan. The feel of her body drove him on. Her tongue searching his, he pressed her to him and she met him with every move.
The door opened without warning. As the light streamed in they turned as one, still entwined. Etienne blinked, disorientated. Isabella pressed the back of her hand to her swollen mouth.
The seekers stood as a surprised group in the hallway. Fox and Walker raised their eyebrows and nudged each other like kids. Rosie and Wren put hands over each other’s mouths to stop the other laughing out loud. Reggie, George and Riley stood straight-faced in the doorway.
‘Wrong game, Uncle Et,’ said George, obviously disappointed with his godfather. ‘It’s not kiss chase!’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Isabella
Girl Gang WhatsApp group
Wren: Code red.
Rosie: Come now. Drinks at The Wayside.
Amber: Can’t. Gotta collect Jayden from street dance in an hour.
Rosie: You won’t want to miss this.
Amber: What happened?
Isabella: I kissed Etienne.
Amber: Be there in ten.
The women were already huddled around a round table in the back bar of The Wayside, all cradling large glasses of dry white wine, when Amber skidded in wearing denim dungarees over a cropped top, hair in two plaits, looking like some sort of sexy children’s entertainer. Wren pointed to the seat beside her and the waiting glass of Coke Zero with a straw. Amber sat.
