Chapter 2
Max
Fucking excellent.
There’s a barricade across the fancy gates of my brother’s home. It bears a sign saying CONSTRUCTION SITE. NO UNAUTHORISED PERSONNEL. A porta-loo and a giant skip in the driveway underscore this message all too clearly.
Where the actual fuck is my brother living?
I kill the engine on my rented bike and kick stand it before wandering closer on foot.
As I peer pointlessly through the gates, my plan to crash with him and Ev until after Christmas falls to pieces before my eyes.
Spontaneity can get me halfway around the world, but apparently it can’t get me a bed at my brother’s obnoxiously large pad.
I dump my duffle bag at my feet and pull my phone out from my lightweight jacket. Fuck, it’s cold in Britain. I don’t remember it being this cold in winter. I tug my helmet off and hit my brother’s number.
He answers with a perky hello, mate.
‘Where are you?’ I ask, stamping my feet to stop them from going any more numb.
‘At the farm. You? Botswana?’
‘It was Malawi. And no, shithead, I’m standing outside Belvedere, but it’s a fucking building site.’
‘What? When did you get back?’
‘This morning,’ I answer glumly. ‘Rented a bike at Heathrow. Thought I’d come and find some sanity in the real world.’
‘You idiot. Should have told me you were coming. We’re having works done—we won’t be back in till the week before Christmas.’ He pauses. ‘Hopefully. I’m not holding my breath.’
‘Where are you living?’
‘We’re staying at the farm. I don’t—look. Just come over, okay? We’ll work something out. Worst case, you can sleep on the sofa tonight. We’re in a cottage called The Dovecote—it’s signposted from Reception.’
‘All right.’ I swipe the toe of my boot across the dust that’s leeched through the gates to the pavement. ‘Place looks like a bomb-site, mate. Hope you get in for Christmas.’
He sighs. ‘Tell me about it. Just come over, okay? We’ll get you fed and sorted out.’
I should have known The Dovecote would be far less modest than its name suggested. This must be one of Sorrel Farm’s newer offerings. It’s a substantial cottage with immaculate stonework and a glossy front door. There’s no way Evelyn would shack up in a two-up, two-down, even temporarily.
I may only have met my newish sister-in-law a handful of times, but I know she enjoys the finer things in life.
And why not? My brothers and I are lucky enough to have decent trust funds, but the wealth Evelyn and her ex-husband have accumulated through their business empire is on another level altogether.
I chuckle to myself. My middle brother is a jammy bastard.
As if to underscore my point, his ugly mug appears at the front door and he pulls me into a huge hug.
One look at him tells me this guy is thriving in his wedded bliss.
Not sure I’ve ever seen Angus look so well.
He has a few more grey hairs since my last trip home a couple of years ago, but there’s a levity about him that wasn’t there before Evelyn came into his life.
‘Bloody hell, mate.’ He holds me close and thumps my back. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘You too, bro.’ I hug him more tightly, mainly to remind him that I’m still more ripped than he is, but the wave of emotion I feel at seeing him takes me by surprise.
Angus may be a decade older than me, but he’s always had my back.
Our eldest brother, Julian, has only a couple of years on Angus, but he never made quite the same effort with me that Angus did.
Since Mum and Dad passed, Jules has run the family estate back home in Derbyshire, whereas Angus and I have had to forge our own paths in life. Those paths are more similar than they may appear at first glance.
Just like me and Angus.
He steps back to make room for me to pass through the front door. ‘Come in, come in.’
I saunter through and let out a low whistle. ‘Fucking hell, mate. Slumming it while the work’s being done?’
He has the good grace to laugh. This place looks like it belongs in a Christmas magazine spread: all greens and whites and golds, with shitloads of fresh greenery everywhere and a huge tree standing in one corner.
‘Yeah, it’s pretty nice. We just finished developing these as guest cottages six months ago. And it makes life easy, being on the farm. Even if the school run’s a little longer from here.’
‘You’re not still doing the graveyard shift, though, are you?’
He takes my bag off me and puts it neatly by the door. ‘No, Evelyn saw to that when we got together. She hired someone to do the early mornings. Thank God.’
Light footsteps sound overhead before the woman herself comes into view on the stairs. She’s holding their daughter, Rose, whose christening provided the impetus for my last trip home and whom I haven’t met since.
‘Max! Hi!’ She holds out her free arm as she approaches before drawing me into a tight one-armed hug. She smells amazing, as always, and looks hot as hell, as always.
Did I mention my brother is a jammy bastard?
He did well with the girls back in the day—we all did—but, Jesus Christ, is his second wife a knockout. She’s in a long, floaty dress, hair and makeup immaculate, and, try as I might, I cannot find a single fault in her.
Except that she’s probably not the kind of woman who’d take a camping trip with you.
But, aside from that minor flaw, she seems like a genuinely lovely woman who looks at my nerdy middle brother like he’s the second coming of Christ.
And for that, she has my undying loyalty.
‘Hi, beautiful,’ I say, withdrawing from the hug and giving her a wink. I tend to flirt lightheartedly with her just to piss my brother off. ‘You’re looking as spectacular as ever. Sorry to barge in like this. And hi there, Rose.’
Babies—or infants, or whatever you call small kids—scare the shit out of me, but even I can appreciate that Rose is an exceedingly pretty baby, with huge hazel eyes and, appropriately enough, a mouth that looks like a little rosebud.
She’s gaping at me like the jury’s definitely out on whether I’m a goody or a baddy.
Smart kid.
‘She’s got big since you saw her last, hasn’t she?’ Evelyn coos, bouncing her in her arms.
‘She certainly has. Can she walk?’
‘She’s two,’ Angus says drily. ‘She can walk.’
More footsteps sound on the stairs, this time clattering quickly, and a cheerful, capable-looking young woman greets me and whisks Rose away.
‘They’re going for their morning walk,’ Angus tells me. ‘It’s a slow and meandering process. As-the-crow-flies is not a concept Rose has embraced yet.’
‘Come and get a cup of coffee,’ Evelyn says, ‘and you can tell us to what we owe this pleasure.’
‘This unexpected pleasure,’ my brother adds as we walk across the large open space to the kitchen area. ‘In other words, what the hell are you doing here?’
‘Haven’t you heard of spontaneity?’ I ask him.
‘I did not marry your brother for his spontaneity.’ Evelyn pauses in front of an open cupboard. ‘Tea or coffee?’
I snigger. ‘Fair point. Angus wouldn’t know spontaneity if it bit him in the arse. And I’ll take the strongest coffee you have, please. I took a red-eye from Lilongwe, and I’m fucking shattered.’
‘Someone has to be the sensible one around here,’ he says mildly. He’s a hard man to ruffle. I’ll give him that. ‘So, it was a spontaneous decision to fly all night? Or did you just miss your brother too much?’
‘I missed having someone to rip the piss out of, if that’s what you mean.
’ I dig the heel of my hand into my eye socket and rub.
I’m destroyed. And stiff. I could use a massage and a long sleep.
‘I dunno. I was a bit bored. Restless. They’ve got me doing more desk stuff these days, and it’s not my thing.
I’d rather be out in the field, you know?
So I asked them to give me six weeks off.
I’ll make a decision after Christmas about whether to go back. ’
I’ve been working with WaterAid for nine years, and with other NGOs since long before that. I took off one day with a rucksack and never looked back. It was the best thing I’ve ever done. I’ve been all over Sub-Saharan Africa. Lived all over. But it’s not cutting it anymore, for some reason.
I’m twitchy.
I need a break. A change of scene.
‘What about that woman you were seeing?’ Angus asks. ‘Kat?’
‘Kate. We split up a few months ago.’ I avoid his gaze, instead watching and salivating while steaming hot, liquid caffeine pours out of the Nespresso machine.
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Now you do.’
‘Who finished it? Her or you?’
‘It was mutual.’
‘Which means she dumped you.’
‘She chose to walk away from what we had because her biological clock started ticking.’ I hold my hands up. ‘And no way was I the man for the job.’
Angus makes a tutting noise that sounds a lot like judgement. ‘Poor woman.’
‘Poor woman? She knew the score. I’ve never not been up front with her.’
‘Fair enough. It’s just… a shame.’
‘Mate. You’ve got yourself a second family, a second round of kids, and I’m thrilled for you, believe me, but you don’t hear me expounding my thoughts on your life choices. So do me the same fucking courtesy and give your views on what I should do with my sperm a rest.’
Evelyn hands me the coffee cup, her mouth twisting in what looks like a suppressed smile. ‘The man makes a fair point, Angus.’
My brother opens his mouth and shuts it again, before saying, ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. None of my business.’
‘Damn right it isn’t,’ I say, but the heat has gone out of my voice.
I lift the cup towards my mouth, assessing how willing I am to suffer mouth-burn for the sake of my caffeine fix.
‘Look, I’m just knackered, okay? Let me have a nap before you give me a hard time for not knocking women up left, right and centre. ’
‘I think there’s probably a happy medium there,’ Angus says. ‘Your gene pool’s not that good.’
‘Says my closest living relative. Did you come clean to Evelyn here before you impregnated her that our family has a tendency towards webbed feet?’
The look on my sister-in-law’s face is fucking priceless. She turns to Angus. ‘What the hell?’
I slap my hand on the counter and laugh so hard I almost spill my precious coffee.
‘It’s a joke. But I’d keep a close eye on Rose’s toes, just in case.’
‘I take it all back,’ Angus says. ‘You should never, ever procreate, you absolute twat. Come on, let’s have a seat.’
Once the coffees are poured, we wander over to the sofas. I sink into the depths of one of them. Fuck me. This is very, very comfortable. I could definitely spend a few nights here, if I needed to.
‘Where’s Eddie?’ I crane my neck around. Eddie’s Evelyn’s kid by her ex. Seems they managed to have sex once in their phony marriage. He’s a good kid. Must be ten or eleven now. Or twelve, even.
‘Little place called school,’ Angus says, sitting down opposite me and drawing Evelyn into his side. ‘Heard of the concept?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Got it.’
‘So.’ My brother throws me a smug look. ‘Where are you planning to stay while you’re down here?’
‘I was hoping to crash with you for a few weeks,’ I mutter. ‘Help around the farm,’ I add, before he can accuse me of being a worthless freeloader. I know he has a decent team around him, but every farm needs extra hands, and I’m not afraid of hard work.
‘The downsides of spontaneity,’ he sighs, like a total twat, and I scowl at him. ‘Because you find us slumming it in a three-bedroom cottage.’
I look up at the ceiling. ‘This place only has three bedrooms?’
‘Yep. And the kids have a room each. You can sleep on the sofa tonight, of course, if you need somewhere to crash. But I’m afraid you’ll have to find somewhere else if you want to be here more than a night or two.’
‘I’m sure we can find him something,’ Evelyn says, looking from me to him in a panic. ‘Max is your brother! And he’s come such a long way. Maybe Jess and Zoe can put him up?’
I brighten. Zoe is a long-time friend of my brother. They’ve been best mates since uni—it’s how he got this gig. She’s a sweetheart, and her wife, Jess, is genuinely hysterical.
‘That would be great.’
‘Mate, I’m not asking them to put you up for six weeks. It’s completely outrageous. Unless.’
‘Unless what?’ Evelyn and I say at the same time.
My brother narrows his eyes like he’s studying me properly for the first time. ‘Would you be willing to work for your keep?’
‘Of course.’ I shrug my shoulders dismissively as I take a sip of delicious, scalding hot coffee. Fuck, that’s good.
‘I may have a gig for you, in that case,’ he says.