NINE
Elton
I’ve left the door to my office ajar, the sounds of Neive and Reilly flowing through the hallway and filling the room. I haven’t been able to focus on this budget report for the last thirty minutes. Every time Reilly laughs, my heart zaps. She has a beautiful laugh.
The first time she came over, her face was awestruck as she took in her surroundings and she wasn’t paying attention as she made her way up the steps.
I may have let her bump into me. I wanted a reason to hold her.
She comes across a little clumsy, it’s like she is so preoccupied chasing life she can’t see what’s right in front of her.
I suppose that’s not a bad way to be, I should learn to be a little more like that.
I am constantly chasing my next thrill, looking for the next big deal or my next million.
Reilly is chasing the pure unfiltered amusements of everything.
Since Neive moved in I’ve been trying to make the effort to be less focused on work.
It’s hard. Money and work have always been the only things to save me.
I shake my head and try to get my focus back on these numbers.
I’ve put too much work aside these past few days, dealing with MJ.
I need her to get better. Neive needs her to get better.
Despite MJ’s desire to move away once she’s out of rehab, I’ve been looking at possible places for them once MJ is ready to live by herself with Neive again.
There’s still a lot of relationship to mend between them, but I know they both want to try.
While trying to come up with an excuse to be in the kitchen, everything goes black: the lights, my computer. The house alarm starts beeping, and more alarms start blaring in the distance as well as dogs barking. Neive screams, followed by a loud smash.
“Neive! Stand still,” Reilly shouts. I turn on my phone light and make my way to the kitchen.
Reilly also has her phone pointed towards the floor, which is now covered in shattered glass, batter splattered across the floor.
Neive is standing on one leg and hunching forward, trying to balance around the glass.
Reilly steps forward, arms out to grab Neive and steady her.
“Stop!” They both freeze and turn towards me.
Luckily, I’ve still got my shoes on, so I crunch across the broken glass, pass my phone light to Reilly and scoop Neive up like I would when she was a child, walking her over to the seating area.
“Reilly, stay there. I’m coming back for you.
” She goes to refuse. “It’s pitch-black in here, and there’s glass everywhere. ”
“Power cut?” she asks, a little shaken.
Steps sound behind me as Jeeves walks in with a large torch shining over us. “The whole street’s out. You okay in here? I’m going to try the backup generator.”
I nod to him as he throws me another torch, and I head over to Reilly, shining light onto her feet.
“No shoes?” She gives me a sly smile. Reilly comes across as a no-shoe girl.
Her neon green toenails nod to her playful side, and she’s got her ridiculous dungarees on again.
“Can I lift you?” I know we’ve been more than acquainted with touching each other, but I don’t want to push her boundaries.
She places her hands around my neck, and I lift her by her waist as she wraps her legs around me, resting her face into my neck.
Her breath brushes my ear. “Thank you.” Memories surge of her breath catching in my ear as she moaned through her orgasm.
I find my grip tightening around her, wanting to hold on to this feeling. I count to five in my head.
I make the effort to softly place her next to Neive. “You two stay here out of trouble.” I ruffle Neive’s hair then slip out to check in with Jeeves to find out where he’s at with the generator.
Reilly has settled in next to Neive, comforting her in a soft voice, telling her not to worry about the mess in the kitchen.
“The generator isn’t working, we’ll be lights out for a while.
I’ll grab my tools and see what I can do.
” Jeeves is a man of many talents, but I’m not sure where his skills lie when it comes to electrics.
I step outside the front door to take in the street.
The main gates won’t open without electricity, but we have the pedestrian entrance, so I pop out and check out what’s going on.
“Elton,” my neighbour Del calls. “Looks like most of the area is down, right across into Bournemouth. Bloody typical.” I thank him and head back inside to find my girls.
Not my girls. Reilly isn’t mine. Yet.
After grabbing a couple of candles from the kitchen drawer, I find the dustpan and brush and sweep up as much as I can in the dark, laying a couple of broken-down cardboard boxes from our meal-prep delivery on top of the broken glass. It will have to do for now.
I grab a bottle of Pouilly-Fumé from the wine fridge and two glasses, not forgetting a bottle of water for Neive.
They are both still on the sofa, safe and sound.
Neive is telling Reilly about her mum being in rehab.
Neive doesn’t talk about her mum. When I moved MJ into rehab, Neive packed her bags and moved in with me with no questions asked.
If I had been emotionally healthy I probably would have pushed harder for her to talk.
But I didn’t, and now she’s found a safe space in Reilly.
“That must be hard, Neive. Do you have anyone to talk to about this?” She’s got her arm around her as Neive lays her head on her shoulder.
“Not really. I don’t like worrying Uncle Elton, he’s taking a lot on. Can’t be easy having a thirteen-year-old move into his bachelor pad,” Neive says, rolling her eyes. Reilly laughs softly and gently strokes Neive’s hair.
“He would want to know how you’re feeling.
You don’t necessarily have to talk to Elton.
In fact, it’s easier to talk to someone detached from the situation.
But your uncle cares about you, that’s pretty obvious.
He would want to know if you’re struggling.
Don’t be afraid to ask for help, Neive. People care. You matter.”
Neive lifts her head to look at Reilly, blinking slowly as if hearing the words for the first time.
My heart cracks. In the space of fifteen minutes, Reilly has managed to get more out of Neive than I have in three months.
Her unwillingness to confide in me hurts a little. I need to be more present.
I make the conscious effort to make my steps loud as I head over to the sofas with a tray of drinks and candles.
I set out getting everything sorted, handing Reilly a glass of wine and settling next to Neive, pulling her in for a hug and pressing a kiss to her head.
She’s a wonderful kid, taking on so much and still concerned about those who are meant to be caring for her.
Reilly offers me a kind smile and takes a sip of wine.
Neive goes on to tell me all about what they’ve done today and what their plans are for their lessons.
Sounds like my money is being well spent.
Neive grabs her iPad from the drawer under the centre table.
“Don’t rot your brain with YouTube crap.
” I hate how much time she spends on that thing.
“Elton, this is still my lesson time.” Reilly is putting on a serious teaching voice. “Neive, for the remaining part of your lesson today, I suggest you watch Bake Off. Hotspot off your phone. Find inspiration.” She gives her a smile and winks at me.
“Go on, head to your room.” I follow Neive upstairs and get her settled, switching on the battery-powered fairy lights to illuminate the room.
“Uncle Elton, I really like Reilly. She’s nice. You should date her.”
I gently laugh at the uncomplicated black and white thinking of a teenager.
“Maybe, Neive, we’ll see. Text me if you need me.” Neive is right. Reilly is nice. I should date her. This kid is so smart.
I head back downstairs and find Reilly placing her barely touched wine on the table. “I should get going. Mum will start to worry.” She’s heading towards the counter, looking for her bag with her phone light.
“The main gates won’t open, and you won’t be walking or getting the bus in the dark.” She rolls her eyes, but hopefully she knows how serious I am. I won’t have her wandering the streets late at night. I don’t care how safe this neighbourhood is.
I guide her back to the sofa and hand her the glass of wine. She takes a sip and leans her head back, resting it on the sofa, her glass tipping slightly to the side. She bolts up, brushing the sofa cushion where a few drops have spilt.
“Shit, shit. Sorry. Oh my god. Your sofa.”
“Reilly.” I laugh. “Don’t stress, it’s just a little spill.”
“At least it’s not red,” she mutters as she wipes a drop of wine off the side of the glass and licks it from her finger, her lips puckering around the tip. “Do not give me red wine on this sofa.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” I manage to say, even as the thought of having another opportunity for Reilly to spill wine over my sofa replays in my head. Her cheeks tinge red as she sets the glass right in the middle of the coffee table. Nudging it as far away as possible.
She sits up a little straighter and smooths her curls away from her face. My hand itches to reach towards her and pull them back down just to watch her do it again.
I adjust my trousers and clear my throat. “You’re good with Neive. Do you have siblings?” Of course she doesn’t. We discussed this the first night we met.
“No, just me and my mum growing up,” she says, looking around the room until her eyes land on a photo of a young Neive and MJ. “Neive is a great kid. She told me about her mum.” I know she has many unasked questions; they’re the same questions everyone has.
I don’t know how much I should divulge to Reilly. I want her to understand me, without scaring her off with my family drama. But maybe I should let her see me and make her own judgement.
“Our parents died when we were young,” I say, and she turns back to me with that same look of pity I despise.
“We were dirt poor, and with no other family, we ended up in foster care.” My eyes flick to the same photo Reilly had been looking at before.
“MJ was seven. I did my best to keep an eye out for her, but it was hard. Things … things weren’t okay.
” I clench my fist at the memory of the bullying and harassment MJ suffered when she couldn’t live with me.
“I managed to get guardianship of MJ when I was twenty-one. But a little too late; she was already drinking and generally heading towards a downward spiral. She was fourteen.” Reilly shifts closer to me and rests her hand on mine.
I find myself gently stroking her knuckles. “Neive was born a few years later.”
“Neive’s dad?” Reilly asks. I shake my head and something close to anger crosses her face.
“Neive helped MJ turn her life around. She quit drinking and partying and got back to focusing on school. With the help of nannies, as well as Charles and Jeeves, things were going well.” I took a breath.
This part was hard to relive. “Two years ago, MJ’s girlfriend died.
Car accident. It hit her hard. They hadn’t been together long, but another death in her life was too much to handle.
She started spiralling. I was distracted with work and women.
” I pause to gauge Reilly’s reaction to my admission of my playboy ways.
She says nothing. “I kept throwing money at the problem. Thinking it would get better.” Reilly opens her mouth but shuts it, not wanting to cut in.
“Anyway, I headed over to see MJ and found her in bed sleeping off a drug-fuelled hangover. The fridge was empty, and although the place was tidy, it wasn’t particularly clean.
Neive came home from school with a bag of McDonalds, apparently her regular dinner.
I told her to pack two separate bags for her and her mum.
I sent MJ off to rehab and moved Neive in here.
That was three months ago.” I take a gulp of wine, uneasy at the vomit of personal life I’ve just spewed.
Reilly runs her hand up my arm and leans in, placing a soft kiss on my cheek.
“You’ve been through so much, Elton, and what you’re doing now for your sister and Neive is amazing. You’re an amazing person.”
I lift my hand to move a curl that had fallen over her eyes, then gently stroke her cheek. She nestles into my touch and closes her eyes. My breath stills. She is so beautiful. The candlelight casts a shadow over her face, highlighting her features. Will she let me kiss her?
The aggressive vibrating of Reilly’s phone interrupts the sweetest of moments.
“Shit, it’s my mum. Sorry I’ve got to take this. She’ll be worried.”
“Of course.” I grab a candle, and to give her privacy I show her through to the formal dining room, which we never use despite the table for twelve.
I let the door close behind me as she answers her phone call, the phone call that stopped me from crawling on top of her and fulfilling all the dreams I’ve had of her.
We will be picking up where we left off.