JACK Kennington Park Road #2
“Interesting outfit…” Francis mutters, voice laced with mild mockery, as he leans over my shoulder and reaches for a mini sandwich on the buffet table.
“Why, don’t you like my outfit?” I ask, already on the defensive.
“On the contrary. I find it… creative. But you should be careful not to confuse the children.”
I narrow my eyes and instinctively jut out my chin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean all you’re missing is a stick, and they’ll start mistaking you for a mint lolly.”
My eyes go wide in shock and my mouth drops open, utterly offended.
I’m just about to fire back with a scathing reply, but I don’t even get the chance. Infuriating Doctor Starkey is already walking away, laughing his smug arse off.
I fume. Who the hell does this smug prat think he is, mocking me like that?
Before I can say or do something I’ll regret, Ollie thankfully appears at my side and places a hand on my arm.
“I don’t know what Francis said to you,” he says, eyeing me carefully, “but judging by your face, you look like you’re two seconds away from strangling him. Might want to rethink that plan, he’s just become a dad, and that baby can’t afford to lose another parent.”
His tone is light, but the message is clear: this day is about Adele, and at least for today, I need to lay down my weapons. Just hearing her name makes me feel guilty for getting so wound up and nearly rising to Francis’s bait.
“Okay, okay…” I raise my hands in surrender. But before I can grab another canapé, seriously, they’re divine, Ollie takes my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, lifting my face to inspect it.
“Huh… no mascara today? That’s unusual. Not that you really need it, your lashes are so long it’s unfair, but when you do wear it, your eyes are nearly flawless.” He lets out a theatrical sigh and releases me. “Wish I had lashes like yours.”
“My lashes are so pale and thin that if I didn’t wear mascara every single day, I’d look completely hairless,” Ollie grumbles, though he honestly has nothing to complain about.
Considering the steady rotation of boys at his side, I highly doubt he struggles to find admirers for his ethereal blond beauty.
Among those admirers, I’m fairly certain I can count my own brother, though Ian hasn’t quite realised it yet. He’s still too fixated on his beloved Seb prototype to notice what’s right in front of him.
Obviously, that’s not a topic I can bring up out of the blue, so I take the opportunity to tug Ollie gently toward a quieter corner and finally ask the thing that’s been bothering me since the start of the party.
“Oh, come on, Ollie, don’t start complaining about your looks…
” I say carefully. “You know people fall head over heels for you, guys and girls alike! What I do want to know is… why isn’t Anne here?
I assumed she wouldn’t dream of missing something this important, not just for her ex, but apparently for the whole group. ”
My friend bats his lashes, clearly delighted by the compliment, which, frankly, doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.
It only took a few hours in his company to realise just how vain Ollie is. But then again, he’s not just an actor, he’s also a well-known beauty influencer, and after experiencing his makeup skills firsthand, I can’t really argue with his impeccable aesthetic taste.
While he considers my question, he takes a delicate nibble of a caviar canapé, and after a moment of thought, he offers an explanation.
“Okay, so Anne didn’t actually say anything to me directly,” he begins, “but I’ve formed my own theory. I think she chose not to come because she knew today was going to be really important and sensitive for Francis. She didn’t want to shift the focus away from what actually matters, the baby.”
I stare at him, surprised and a bit unsure whether I’ve really grasped Anne Halliwell’s reasoning.
“Anne might not want children of her own,” Ollie says quietly, “but she respects Francis far too much to risk bringing even the slightest disturbance to a moment she knows, better than anyone, how important it is for her ex.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“These are personal matters,” he warns, shooting me a look, “and I’m only telling you because it’s something everyone in the group already knows… and you’re one of us now.”
“Of course,” I reply immediately. “I’d never talk about it with anyone. You should know by now how private I am too, and I really appreciate you trusting me.”
“Francis and Anne didn’t break up because they stopped loving each other…” he continues. “They broke up because he wanted children, and she realised she wasn’t cut out to be a mother.” He finishes with a sigh.
“Believe me…” he adds softly, “watching it happen was heartbreaking. But I think they did the right thing in the end. If they’d stayed together, they both would’ve ended up unhappy. The truth is, they just wanted very different things from life.”
I nod, pretending I actually understand anything about this kind of stuff, even though I clearly don’t. Still, I can’t help but ask him one last question.
“So… do you think he still loves her?”
Ollie takes his time, thinking it through properly before lowering his voice to a whisper.
“I can’t say for sure, obviously. He never talks about it.
But I wouldn’t rule it out…” He pauses briefly, then adds, “Just like I wouldn’t rule out the opposite, that she might still have feelings for the good doctor.
Anne’s trying to move on, I’m sure of that…
but Francis doesn’t strike me as someone you forget easily. ”
I’m very tempted to say that Francis definitely isn’t easy to forget, mostly because of how annoying he is, but just then he appears behind me, holding the baby in his arms, and I wisely decide to keep my mouth shut.
“Hiding out from the chaos, are you two?” he asks with a teasing tone, though there’s a note of fatigue in his voice I’ve never heard before.
“Putting two little whirlwinds like Leo and Adele in the same room really is a recipe for chaos,” Ollie chuckles, but Francis doesn’t get a chance to respond, because all of a sudden, the baby reaches out towards me, bubbling with delight and completely ignoring poor Ollie.
She’s making it very clear she wants me to hold her, and I blink, caught off guard by her unexpected interest. I glance over at Francis, silently asking for permission, and when he gives me a small nod, I cautiously open my arms and invite her in.
Francis watches us closely, a flicker of both worry and curiosity on his face, but the moment Adele settles into my arms, a wave of calm washes over me, that familiar, grounding peace I always feel when I hold a baby.
It’s such a pure kind of joy, simple and instinctive, wrapped in that unmistakable scent of shampoo and baby sweat, and the warmth that spreads through your chest when a tiny body curls up against you like it belongs there.
The weight of a baby seems to follow its own set of physical laws, like it has a special kind of density, somehow the most solid and yet the most delicate thing you could ever hold.
I’ve always known, instinctively, that these tiny human beings need to be held with confidence, but also with a kind of care that runs deep, the same care you’d give something truly precious.
Adele reaches up and touches my face with clear interest, and I let her, laughing softly as her chubby, sticky little hands tickle my cheeks.
I take a moment to really look at her, maybe for the first time since I arrived, and I can’t help but melt a little at how curious and adorable she is. Her fine red hair could do with a trim and nearly falls into her hazel eyes as she studies me with a focus so intense it’s almost touching.
But this baby’s no pushover, because when Francis tries to take her back from my arms, she resists without a second thought, clinging to me like a limpet on a rock.
He tries coaxing her in a soft, patient tone I’ve honestly never heard him use with anyone, but Adele simply turns to her brand-new dad, shoots him the most unimpressed side-eye I’ve ever seen on a toddler, and says, firmly: “No!”
I can’t help it, I burst out laughing right in the doctor’s face. And even though I fully expect some sarcastic quip in return, to my surprise, he’s laughing too. Properly laughing.
Before he has the chance to pull himself back together, I blurt out what’s on my mind. “You’re lucky to have her, Francis. Your daughter definitely has a natural charm.”
He gives me a wary look, probably bracing for the punchline, which, in fairness, comes right on cue.
“A charm so strong, in fact, it almost makes up for your complete lack of it.”
“Alright, alright. Fair enough,” he shoots back, not even remotely offended.
“I probably had that coming, after calling you a giant lollipop. Though now that I think about it, maybe that’s exactly why you won her over so easily. She mistook you for one of those sugar-loaded monstrosities I fully intend to keep her away from.”
“But, what…” I stammer, absolutely scandalised.
As usual, it’s taken less than two minutes with the infuriating Doctor Starkey for me to be left gaping like a fish, utterly offended.
I’m just about to shoot back a clever comeback when Ollie appears at my side, somehow reading the entire situation with a single glance.
He just shakes his head, looking thoroughly exasperated, then leans down to gently stroke Adele’s head, she’s still curled up quite happily in my arms.
“We should head out, Jack. Kit and Ian have places to be and, well…”
He tilts his chin, first toward Francis, then toward Adele.
“I think these two could use a little space. We’ve stirred up enough chaos for one day, and the new granny over there looks like she’s about to pass out.”
Francis says nothing, and honestly, he doesn’t have to.
One glance at Helen Starkey, sitting on the sofa, visibly overwhelmed, is enough to realise he’s right.
It’s totally understandable, after the long trip from Cornwall and the tidal wave of emotions she’s been through today.
“While the rest of us finish tidying up the kitchen… you two have about five minutes to, um, talk about your work arrangement, yeah.”
It’s not like Ollie to look uncomfortable, and only now do I realise just how awkward our mutual dislike makes things for him.
Underneath all that flair and theatrical charm, I’m starting to suspect there’s a softness to him, something delicate he never allows to surface, not even with his closest friends.
I nod, barely.
When Francis reaches out his arms, Adele, as if she somehow understands that it’s really time to say goodbye, lets herself be passed back without a fuss.
She even gives him a gummy smile, one of those half-toothless grins that are oddly heart-melting, and his entire face shifts, lit up by a kind of quiet joy that takes me completely off guard.
And in that moment, I catch the briefest glimpse of what Ian once called the real Francis, of the warm, affectionate man everyone keeps telling me about…The one I wasn’t entirely sure existed.
Realising there was actually some truth in what the others said about him throws me off more than I care to admit.
But the moment doesn’t last. The spell breaks, and Francis, just like that, flashes me one of his classic smug looks.
“Wait here. I’ll take her to my mum and be right back.”
I nod, and as he walks away with Adele in his arms, I’m surprised by an unexpected pang of… something. Melancholy, maybe? It’s a new feeling, so unfamiliar I can’t quite put it into words.
Adele is adorable, no doubt about that, and I know she’s already had a rough start in life.
But let’s be honest: I’ve only known her for a couple of hours. And Francis, with the resources he clearly has, will have no trouble hiring a proper nanny. If not today, then soon enough.
I came here to turn down his offer and move on with my life, just like I hope he’ll move on with his.
“There you are,” he says as he comes back, having left grandmother and granddaughter together.
Even though he’s standing right in front of me, it’s obvious from the way he glances back that his mind is still with them.
Right. Time to say what I came here to say and finally make my exit.
“First of all, … I wanted to apologise for taking so long to get back to you,” I begin, carefully.
“Oh, come on,” he cuts in, already dripping sarcasm. “It’s only been, what, a week? But never mind, I guess you…”
“I already said I’m sorry,” I snap, fists clenching at my sides.
“There it is! My angry little fox,” he teases with a laugh. “You do realise you’re absolutely adorable when you’re mad?”
“That’s enough!” I cut him off. “I’ve had it, Francis. I came here to tell you that after thinking things through…”
He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, giving me that smug, infuriating look I’d happily slap off his face.
Only… my brain, as usual, decides to rebel.
And instead of sticking to the script, it short-circuits entirely, hits the gas, and leaves my mouth to do the rest.
“I’ll take the job.”