Be More Capybara (The Dashford Comedies #5)

Nigel

‘I’ll be off then. Happy New Year, mate.’ The driver got back into his car and headed up the long gravel drive back to the main road.

His hand hovered over the door handle. Should he ring the bell instead? No. That was for guests. This was his childhood home and he still owned a share of it.

He turned the handle and pushed the door. It was unlocked. No surprise there. Rural Devon didn’t warrant the complex security measures he’d had installed in his New York brownstone. The thought triggered a slideshow in his mind of everything he’d left behind in the States. Focus on now, Nige!

Time to brave the crowd. He took a deep breath, strode towards the doors, and opened them wide.

‘Nigel!’ His mother’s voice cut through all the chatter in the drawing room. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

The guests fell silent and everyone turned to stare at him. It was as if he were in one of his recurring nightmares - the one where he was standing naked in front of a group of strangers.

‘Lovely to see you too, Mother.’

She looked like she was about to ask him something, but changed her mind. ‘Help me with the desserts,’ she said, shepherding him back into the hall before anyone else could say a word.

‘Am I an embarrassment?’ he asked as he followed her into the kitchen.

‘Not at all. I didn’t think you’d want to be quizzed about your surprise arrival in front of our guests. You look like you haven’t slept for a week.’

‘That’s probably because I haven’t - not properly, anyway.’

‘What on earth has happened?’ she asked as she shut the kitchen door behind them. ‘Where are Maddie and the girls?’

Nigel sat down on one of the stools by the breakfast bar. ‘Still in New York at Madison’s father’s.’

She raised an eyebrow in that way she used to do when she’d just read a less-than-stellar school report. ‘Why aren’t you with them?’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘Tell me,’ his mother said as she reached for the Earl Grey teabags.

He was going to cry if he wasn’t careful. He took a deep breath. ‘Because she thinks I’m not good enough for her anymore.’

‘And why would she think that?’ Nancy asked as she busied herself making tea.

‘Because I am no longer the CFO of Bartons.’

‘Since when?’

‘Since the end of November. We merged with another company and, let’s just say, it got complicated, so they paid me off.’

Nancy put a steaming hot mug of tea in front of him. ‘I’ve put two sugars in it. You look like you could do with an energy boost.’

Nigel didn’t argue. He wrapped his hands around the warm mug.

‘Why didn’t you mention your job situation before?’

‘Because I thought I’d find something else. But when it came to it, I enjoyed not being caged in that corner office every day. We’ve got enough money to live well without me doing that, but Madison had other ideas.’

‘She sees it as a drop in status?’

He nodded. Visions of the massive shouting match they’d had on Christmas Eve swam back into his mind. Madison had slammed the kitchen door shut so that the girls wouldn’t hear. ‘I don’t want you under my feet all day.’

‘How can I be under your feet? You’re never in. When you’re not at the gallery, you’re swanning off to some lunch or other.’

He hadn’t realised how often she went out until he’d spent that first week at home. His idea that they’d have lunch together, perhaps play some tennis like they used to do when they first met, had turned out to be a pipe dream.

‘Swanning off? I’ve got the gallery and I’m on a board of charity trustees. That’s hardly swanning off as you call it.’

‘I was talking about your constant lunches with friends or hanging out at the yacht club. I’d like to do that sometimes.’

‘You haven’t got any friends to hang out with.’

‘Because I’ve been working all the hours God sends to give you and the girls a life of luxury.

‘And I don’t work. Is that what you’re saying? You think my gallery is a little hobby to keep me amused?’

‘No. I should hope not given the amount of time and effort I poured into it to help make it a success.’

She huffed. ‘I could have got anyone to do the bookkeeping.’

‘Thanks for dismissing my financial advice as bookkeeping. But that’s not the point. I want an opportunity to socialise with people who aren’t just after a business favour. And I thought you’d appreciate seeing more of me.’

The way Madison glared at him took him straight back to the day the CEO had asked him to leave.

His services weren’t wanted any more at Bartons, and Madison didn’t want them either.

She hadn’t for years. Deep down, he knew that she’d fallen out of love with him, but he’d been sticking his head in the sand, thinking that when he took early retirement, they’d be ok. You bloody fool, Nigel.

‘I could have had this life on Daddy’s money. I didn’t need yours.’

Had she really just dismissed twenty years of providing for her in two sentences? How had he ended up married to someone so selfish and uncaring?

‘Nigel?’

His mother’s voice brought him back to reality. ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’

‘I asked you if you wanted to skip the party and go to bed instead.’

It was tempting. But he was still on New York time and wide awake.

‘Thanks. But I’ve got to meet all the new family members we seem to have acquired while I’ve been away. It may as well be now.’

Nigel picked up the tray of mini cheesecakes that Nancy had removed from the fridge.

‘Put them on the dining table, darling. Then announce that dessert is served.’

He grinned. She was back to being her usual bossy self. ‘Would Madame like anything else?’

‘You can cut the sarcasm. I’m thrilled you’re home, but that doesn’t mean to say that I’m not expecting you to make yourself useful.’

‘Message received and understood,’ he said, heading out into the hall.

The dining room looked the same, but the dining table had all sorts of embellishments that his mother would never have bothered with.

Looking at the food names beautifully written in silver ink on black cards, he sensed his future sister-in-law Lucy’s influence.

From the little he’d seen of her on Zoom, he liked her.

Amazing that his wayward little brother had finally found someone sensible to share his life with.

He put the tray of cheesecakes in front of the card labelled Blackcurrant Midnight Kisses, next to Sweet Countdown, which looked suspiciously like mini tiramisus in cocktail glasses.

He headed over to the drawing room to complete his mission.

As he put his hand on the drawing room doorknob, he noticed a strange fluttering feeling in his stomach.

Get a grip. You’re used to standing up in front of investors and hostile business owners.

Your mother’s accidental daughter and a stepfather should be nothing to worry about.

It was still daunting, though. Demoted in his family as well as in his professional life. What an unsettling end to the year.

‘Desserts are in the dining room if you’re feeling peckish,’ he announced.

A woman almost ran towards him with a beaming smile.

His new sister, Julia. He recognised her from the family online call he’d been part of when Nancy broke the news to him.

He’d imagined Julia to be petite like his mother, but she’d got some tall genes from somewhere.

She was almost the same height as he was.

‘I’m so pleased to finally meet you in person, Nigel. ’

She pulled him into an enthusiastic hug. He eased himself away from her. ‘Hi, Julia. Lovely to meet you too.’

‘You can’t have him all to yourself,’ a deep voice with a slight German accent said behind him.

Nigel turned to see his rescuer. Klaus, his stepfather.

They’d spoken several times online since Klaus had moved into the Grange, but he was taller and more imposing than Nigel expected.

That was obviously where Julia got her height from, and they definitely had the same eyes.

‘Good to meet you at last.’

Klaus firmly shook Nigel’s hand. ‘Your mother is delighted you’re here.’ But not Klaus, obviously.

‘I hope you don’t mind me turning up unexpectedly.’

Klaus smiled. ‘Of course not. This is your family home. You’re always welcome here. Can I get you a drink?’

‘Thanks, but I’ll sort myself out.’

‘As you wish.’ Klaus smiled again before heading over to the windows to talk to someone Nigel didn’t recognise.

There were so many people to say hello to, it was hard to know where to start. His brother Mark looked like he was winding up a conversation with a couple Nigel didn’t know. He headed in his direction.

Nigel looked up from the drink he was pouring as Lucy walked into the kitchen. ‘I get the distinct impression that you and Mark are avoiding me.’

‘Are we? It’s a surprise, that’s all. Do you normally fly halfway across the world with no notice?’

‘No, but sometimes it’s refreshing to do something unplanned.’

She didn’t look convinced. ‘I’m going to be straight with you. If you’ve come here to pick holes in the treehouse plan again, you can forget it. It’s a rock-solid business opportunity, so don’t sabotage it.’

‘I promise that’s not why I’m here. And I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I respect your opinion. You’ve been brilliant on the marketing side.’

‘I know. I have awards to prove it.’

Buttering her up obviously wasn’t going to work. ‘So how have I upset you, Luce?’

‘Well, Nige. Where do I start?’

Definitely prickly. He probably shouldn’t have shortened her name.

‘Sorry. I didn’t realise you didn’t like being called Luce.’

‘I don’t mind it, but you have to earn the privilege, Nige.’

He nodded. ‘Fair enough. And for the record, I like being called Nige.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? Mark thinks you hate it.’

‘I used to moan about him doing it when we were kids just to annoy him.’

‘And that’s exactly the problem. Your default reaction to anything he says or does is to antagonise him, and treat him like he’s still ten years old.’

She was right. The point scoring they used to indulge in as children was so ingrained, he didn’t realise he was still doing it most of the time. ‘If I promise to stop, can we call a truce?’

‘Okay. But I want concrete evidence that you respect him before I’m prepared to declare the war is over.’

Nigel nodded. He held out his right hand. ‘Deal. One business person to another?’

‘Deal.’ She gave him a firm handshake.

‘Mark’s lucky to have you supporting him.’

‘He knows that. We’re a team.’

Just like he and Madison hadn’t been a team for years. Funny how that hadn’t dawned on him before.

‘We’re starting the review of the year,’ Mark shouted from the drawing room.

‘Mum still does the annual slide show?’

‘Yes, though probably the last time you saw it, it was actual slides. She’s gone all hi tech now.’

The only free seat was next to Em, who used to be the concierge for the Grange’s holiday cottages. Nigel hadn’t spoken to her at all yet. He tried to dispel the image of that cringeworthy Zoom job interview nearly five years ago.

She smiled at him awkwardly. She was probably trying to do the same.

‘Good to meet you properly,’ he said.

‘Likewise. I’ve heard a lot about you over the years.’

He grinned. ‘All of it bad, I guess.’

Em looked uncomfortable. ‘I couldn’t possibly comment.’

The man sitting on the other side of her, smirking into his wine glass. He realised it was her husband Jack, looking much older than when Nigel had last seen him, burying Mark in the sands on Dashford beach. ‘How long are you staying, Nigel?’

‘A week or so. I’m not sure yet. There are a few things I need to do.’

‘I guess you’re interested in the treehouses?’ Em asked.

Why did everybody think all he cared about was business? Because that’s all you ever ask about when you talk to them.

‘I’m interested, but it’s Mark’s project, so I won’t be poking my nose in.’

Lucy smiled approvingly from the other sofa.

Mark finished adjusting the screen. ‘Right, Mother. We’re ready.’

Nancy pressed a key on her laptop, and an aerial image of Dashford Grange appeared on the screen before turning into a drone video with the local scenery whizzing by until it reached the field where the Roman mosaic had been discovered in the summer.

Nigel chuckled. ‘You’ve upped your game, Mother. This beats the old slides.’

‘Shh,’ she said. ‘Listen.’

A voiceover began - Klaus explaining how they’d discovered the mosaic.

‘Surely everyone knows this story,’ Nigel whispered to Em.

‘Nancy keeps all these in a time capsule that she re-buries each year at the bottom of the garden. Who knows who’ll be watching them in a hundred years?’

The scene moved to the harbour and the row of shops next to it. He didn’t recognise any of them. Hadn’t the gallery used to be a fishing tackle shop? And the bookshop had been a hardware store. You’ve been away too long.

He sat back and took in the rest of the surprisingly professional production. As the closing credits rolled by, there was a dull ache in his chest as he realised just how much he’d missed this place.

Make sure you’re in next year’s show, Nige.

An interesting thought - his subconscious was obviously keen to stay in Dashford.