TWENTY-ONE
Elton
I’ve been desperate to see her. Desperate to see her smile and hear her laugh.
I couldn’t avoid going to London. I had meetings I’d already postponed, contracts to sign and staff to check in with.
I hadn’t wanted to leave Neive and luckily it’s been half term so she could come with me.
The school calendar is now etched into my brain harder than last year’s budget analysis.
Between lunches and theatre shows she’s been curled up in my London office watching films and taking advantage of my Prime account.
It’s a reminder that she’s still a little girl and the weight of everything was starting to drag her down.
I needed to step in. It’s a shame it took a runaway attempt to make me put my focus where it should be.
Now we are back in Dorset, I can start to reorganise.
Neive is priority and the rest of us will have to step in line to what she needs.
She’s wrapped up in a coat, with the wind blowing her hair in every direction.
Big sunglasses, big smile – she’s happy, content.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen that smile.
As the temperature has started to drop this time of year, I like to make sure we get early evening walks down on the seafront.
With the sun still shining we get out and clear the cobwebs, especially after a few weeks of being stuck in the high rises of the city.
Neive has started weekly therapy sessions over Zoom, and the counsellor advised it would be good to get quiet, active time for me and Neive to have an open space to walk and talk.
It’s been eye-opening. I didn’t realise the responsibility she was holding on to.
The burden me and her mother had unknowingly put on her.
She was taking in so much, and it was affecting her in such a way that she didn’t feel she could open up to me.
The reminder of the disappointment I am is a punch in the gut.
A funny little three-legged dog runs up to Neive.
“CHIP!!” Neive squeals excitedly.
Ah, Chip. Which means, Reilly won’t be far behind.
It’s been two weeks, but I’ve kept up with texts and gifts. I was meant to tone it down but I wanted to stay at the forefront of her mind. Neive’s been pushing me to ask her out again, and with things steady at home I’m not against the plan.
“I’m so sorry. Chip, come back!” Reilly calls out as she runs over, arms in the air.
We are standing with the sun on our backs so she can’t make us out.
I can see her, though. Her shapely legs outlined in tight leggings with a fitted running jacket.
I want her to turn around so I can enjoy the shape of her curves from every angle.
Her red curls bounce as she runs, the last of the day’s light highlighting just how bloody beautiful she is.
“Reilly! It’s us!” Neive shouts as she hugs Chip.
Reilly’s face lights up. “He runs fast for a little guy with only three legs. The back one works as a pogo stick. Giving him an extra boost.” She’s laughing as she finally catches up with us.
Neive goes in for a hug, and Reilly encloses her and holds tight.
I can just make out her whispering into Neive’s ear, “You okay?” To which Neive nods.
An older lady strolls up to us and stops behind Reilly. “And that’s why I won’t let him off the lead,” she says, nodding towards Chip, who is currently running circles around us all.
“He wanted to come say hello to Neive,” Reilly responds. She is standing with her arm still around Neive’s shoulder, full of pride. Being within reach and unable to touch her is too much temptation for me, but she needs to come to me.
“Ah, the famous Neive.” Reilly’s mum has the same warm, welcoming smile Reilly has. Until she turns to me. “And you must be Mr Fox.”
“Please, call me Elton. Nice to finally meet you.” I lean forward to shake her hand. She reluctantly takes it out of her pocket and returns the greeting, cautiously. Reilly and her mum are close, so she’s probably heard all the ins and outs of our rocky start.
“This is my mum, Andrea. Mum, this is Elton.” Reilly gives her mum the eye, telling her to be nice. She’s clearly not my biggest fan, which is something I’ll need to correct ASAP.
“Where are you ladies off to?” I ask, attempting friendly conversation while trying to keep Reilly in front of me for as long as possible.
“Do we need to have a plan? Can’t we just be heading for a nice evening walk? I assume you are doing the same?” Andrea interrogates me, crossing her arms over her chest and assessing me before turning away, ready to move on from this conversation. Okay, so really not my biggest fan.
Reilly nudges her mum and scowls at her, then turns back to me with a smile. “Just out with Chip, it’s a beautiful evening,” she says, wrapping Neive’s coat tighter around her small frame.
“Indeed, very beautiful.” I dip my head to catch her eyes sparkling, her smile lighting up her face.
Neive steps up to me, nudging me out of my daze. “We’ve got to go. Claire wants us back.” She turns to Reilly. “We’ve been out for ages,” she says in awe. As if the idea of me dedicating that much time to her is foreign. I really have been neglecting what she actually needs.
Reilly gives Neive another tight squeeze and tells her she’ll be over for their baking lesson tomorrow. “Bye, Elton,” she says softly as they turn and walk away.
“Bye, Reilly,” I say to her retreating back, dumfounded by the way the light catches her red curls bouncing down her back.
“Now, Uncle Elton,” Neive says, elbowing me in the ribs with more force than I thought she would be capable of. Jeeves gives her self-defence lessons, which she must take on board with a lot of gusto. Neive motions towards Reilly. I catch her meaning and call after her.
“Reilly, wait,” I call, taking a small jog towards her.
She stops at my voice. “Can I talk to you for a second?” She steps away from her frowning mum and meets me out of earshot.
“Have lunch with me?” I ask, and her face breaks out into a smile.
I continue, “Tomorrow. On a date. Try this again. Properly this time.” Normally, this would be when I would throw her a charming smile, but there is only genuine happiness on my face.
“I would like that. Text me where and when.” She tiptoes up to place a chaste kiss on my cheek. However, the pursed lips on her mother’s face tell me I will need to put serious effort into getting in with her inner circle.
Reilly
“Whose Claire?” Mum asks.
“His housekeeper,” I say, absentmindedly. Neive is tucked under Elton’s arm as they make their way back down the beach. I place a hand on my chest as warmth surges through me.
“Oh, I see. A housekeeper. Very posh,” she says with raised eyebrows. Mum could do with her soul warming sometimes.
“You were very rude, Mum,” I scold her. Mum can be feisty at the best of times but she turns into a lioness where I’m concerned. I slightly regret telling Mum about the drama at the beginning but we don’t keep secrets from each other.
She compares Elton’s pursuit of me to how my father pursued her. The delayed responses to texts and reluctance to introduce her to friends and family didn’t faze her, until he walked out from the restaurant the day she told him she was pregnant.
Once the tears had dried, she went to his house to try and convince him the baby was a good thing, only to have his beautiful wife answer the door.
She sneered at Mum as she told her she shouldn’t feel so special.
“You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last,” she had informed her.
You can imagine the heartbreak. Especially since he had stood behind his wife the whole time with his hand on her shoulder in support.
The last words my father said to my mother were “Leave, Andrea.” She then received ￡5000 deposited into her bank account and a text telling her to take care of the problem.
So yes, a man with money accusing me of trapping him in a pregnancy was a big red flag for my mother. A slight on my pride I should not forgive lightly.
“Just be wary, Reilly. I don’t want you rushing into this with your eyes closed.
We don’t want another Tim on our hands.” She’s direct, but not wrong.
Tim was obsessed with showing off to those around him; consequently, I was not a priority.
It took me too long to realise the dinners and parties we attended as he paraded me around his friends weren’t for my benefit but for his.
It was belittling. I was the little baker he had taken pity on and decided to cultivate into his perfect trophy wife.
Not to forget his dismissal of my goals.
He thought I should accept that once I was married I would need to devote my time to my family. Digging the nail further in the coffin.
“He’s not the same, Mum,” I say, feeling the need to come to his defence.
“Mmmm, maybe.” Her lips are pursed, hands in her pockets and eyes straight ahead. The stance of a woman who has made up her mind.
I glare at her with daggers, begging her to drop it. “I’m just going to go on a date with him. I’m not rushing into anything.” Well trying not to at least. “I would like your support on this, Mum.”
She stops walking and turns towards me, placing her hand on my arm. Her face has softened.
“You will always have my support.” The way the sunset catches her features shows beauty not diminished by a hard life, but enhanced.