Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
GEORGIA
Breakfast was chaos, and I loved every minute.
Dinner, even more so, and I was ecstatic!
Being with my family is my happy place. Cam and the kids are my world. Being with them brings me a sense of peace I can’t even begin to describe. Add my extended family into the mix, and I think I actually physically glow and vibrate with joy.
Don’t get me wrong, we argue and bicker like any family, but for me, these people are my everything.
I’ve been fortunate enough to have travelled the world, experienced so much, but none of that matters in comparison.
I would pick this, seated around this big, round table with the people I love most, over anything else I’ve ever seen or experienced.
This! This is what matters.
I haven’t seen my parents in a couple of months, as they only fly home now if Bailey and Sam are making the trip.
Both are in their eighties. They need assistance at the airport, and our lives are too busy to be hopping on a plane to Portugal every other weekend, although we do try to get out there at least six times a year.
Along with Cam, me, and our four, are my parents, Bailey and Sam, Len and Jimmie, their youngest two, Ziggy and Harley, as well as Marley and Ash, and their eldest, Joe.
There are seventeen of us in total.
The restaurant is a carvery at a local pub in Brentwood, where we are regulars, so they are used to the noise.
The boys especially love it here because they can go up as many times as they like, and for the boys, who technically are now all men, there is no such thing as too many roast potatoes.
“When does the show air, then?” my mum asks after Kiki fills her in on what we’ve all been doing the past few days.
“The week before the film premieres next June,” I tell her.
“You should come over tomorrow, Nan. Sit on the sofa and let them ask you questions about Mum when she was little. And you, Grandad,” George says.
I watch as my mum’s hand goes to her chest. She smiles and shakes her head, but I know secretly she’d love to get up there and tell the world about me.
“What does anyone wanna be looking at my ugly mug for?” my dad questions.
“You’re still handsome, Grandad,” Lu states. “And Nan’s beautiful. I think the world would love to see you both and hear what you’ve got to say.”
My dad reaches behind my mum’s chair and rests his arm along the back before leaning in and kissing her cheek. Jim, who’s sitting next to me, nudges my arm.
“I know, look at them,” I say without even looking her way, because I just know what the nudge meant.
“Another twenty years, and that’ll be us,” she says.
“I always wanted what they’ve got. Twice, I thought I’d lost it,” I say as she tops up my wine glass with the full-bodied red we’ve been drinking with our dinner.
“And now look,” she says, and I do, at my husband, sitting between my dad and eldest brother, and my kids situated between their dad, uncles, and cousins.
I look at my family, all seated at the large, round table in the far corner of the restaurant, then finally at Jimmie, my oldest friend, sitting next to me.
The ball of emotion lodged in my throat means I daren’t even attempt to speak.
“Remember after we lost Maca and Beau, you’d made that second or third suicide attempt, and I stormed into your mum and dad’s and ripped right into you?”
I nod, and a tear instantly escapes and rolls down my cheek. “I’ll never forget it,” I manage to croak out as the tear reaches the corner of my mouth. The saltiness seeps in, and I take a sip of my wine to wash away the taste.
“I hadn’t planned that. The words just spewed out when I saw you. I was hurt, I was angry, and so fucking scared we would lose you, too. Aren’t you glad now that we didn’t?”
I nod, again unable to speak as my throat literally feels like it’s about to burst.
“Just look at the way that man looks at you.”
I look across at my husband, who has a wineglass held in front of his mouth. He’s nodding at something being said to him, but his eyes are on me. Lowering his glass, he silently asks, “You all right?”
I smile and nod. “You?” I mouth.
He smiles and nods, too.
My chest fills with warmth as he tilts his glass towards me. I return the gesture.
“Wanna fuck?” he again silently asks with a chin lift in the direction of I don’t know where.
I laugh.
“We can all lip-read, you know,” Kiki says, glancing around Harley to look at me.
Why am I the one getting told off?
I’m about to protest when Cam steps in. “I was just telling your mother that she’s beautiful.”
“That’s not what you said,” Kiks protests.
“What did I say, then?” Cam challenges.
Kiki blushes. “Something a daughter should never hear a father say to her mother.”
“Grow up, Kiks. How d’you think we got here?” George asks.
“A test tube, then these two.” Kiks points between Jimmie and Ash.
“Fair.” George admits defeat with a shrug.
“What? What did I do?” Ash, who’s been unusually quiet, asks.
“Gave me life,” Kiki says and holds her glass out to Ashley, who raises hers. “Thank you for that, auntie.”
“You’re welcome, niece, but I was just the incubator. Your mum and dad were the creators.”
“Is it weird?” Lu says. “That we’re cousins but grew in the same womb.” She directs her question at Joe, who, right now, is signing his autograph on a scrap of paper a boy of about fifteen has just presented him with.
We all watch as they pose for a selfie. When the boy leaves, Joe shakes his head.
“Never thought of it as weird. Just always been in awe of my mum and Jimmie for what they did, and probably Dad and Len for being okay with it.”
I look between Jimmie and Ash. Both have eyes shining with tears.
Ash fans her face and shakes her head. “Bloody hell, Joe. You and your dad are doing me like a kipper these last couple of days. Thank you. It means a lot that you feel that way,” she says.
“Sorry,” he replies with a shrug. “Thought you knew that’s how I felt.
I was talking about it with the girls the other day when we were all over at Annie’s for dinner.
I think with them both being pregnant, it’s made them realise what a sacrifice you made.
Especially as you’d both done with having kids. ”
“Despite everything,” my dad starts.
“Buckle up,” Marley says quietly. “Frank’s had a few. We could be here for a while, especially if he stands up.”
My dad’s a bit deaf these days, but my mum misses nothing.
“Marley George Layton, hush your noise, and show some respect for your father!”
“Yes, Mum,” he replies, deadpan. “Sorry.”
“Haha.” Me, Len and Bails all wag our fingers at him because being in our fifties and sixties has changed nothing. This is made even more apparent when Marls pretends to scratch at his whiskers but is clearly giving us the middle finger.
“Despite our terrible losses,” my dad continues.
“This family is incredibly lucky. Lucky to have each other, and I just wanna say, me and your mum were talking on the plane over here, and I know not everyone’s here to hear me say it, but we’re so bloody proud of the lot of ya.
I don’t need to get in front of a camera and say it, because fuck the rest of the world.
The press and the public have taken enough from us over the years.
The only people who need to hear this are all of you. So, yeah.”
We watch as he pulls himself up to stand and raises his glass.
“To family,” he says. “To the memories we hold in our hearts and will forever cherish of those we’ve loved and lost. May they always inspire us to live this life to the fullest, and shape who we are.
And to those who remain, your presence is a gift.
The unconditional bonds that tie us will always keep us united, strong, and knowing what it is to love and be truly loved. ”
“To family,” the table says in unison—me, my mum, Jim, Ash, and Harley through our tears.
My husband didn’t get a fuck last night. Instead, he got to put his drunk arse wife to bed.
After my dad’s highly emotional speech, someone decided it was a good idea to order a couple of bottles of champagne, and apart from the manager coming over and asking if we could lower the noise level, I don’t really remember much else until I was home and Cam was peeling me out of my clothes.
I have a vague recollection of asking him to get one of my face washers, because no matter how drunk I am, I never, ever sleep in my makeup.
I’m now face down in our bed. Even only partially conscious, I know that I’m alone when I hear sounds of my family travelling through the house.
My head’s pounding, and I think my face is stuck to the sheets because I’ve drooled in the night and it’s dried.
The door to our bedroom opens, but I daren’t move my head to see who it is. The sight of my coffee cup being placed on the bedside table by someone wearing grey joggers lets me know it’s Cam.
He squats down next to me, leans in, and whispers in my ear, “You smell like a fucking brewery.”
I close one eye in an attempt to stop my head from pounding. It doesn’t work. “You smell delicious. Did you shower already? I didn’t hear a thing.”
“I’m not surprised with how loud you were snoring,” he says as he stands.
“Was it bad?”
“Let’s just say, Roonie and Becks came to investigate from their graves in the garden, and that Canadian bloke, Steve, who your dad watches on YouTube knocked at the front enquiring as to whether we knew anything about the sasquatch that’d been reported in the area.”
I smile but still can’t bring myself to open both my eyes. Cam gets into bed beside me and pulls my back against his front before he buries his face in my hair.
“There are a couple of paracetamol up there, and a packet of dark chocolate digestives. Knock the pills back with your coffee.”
“Thanks,” I say without moving. “How’d we get home last night?”
“H drove my car. He wasn’t drinking. Lu drove the other two back in H’s car because she didn’t drink, either.”
“My kids are more responsible than I am.”