Chapter Thirty-One
Stephen
It was exactly the kind of house I’d imagined Elle growing up in after she spoke to me about all her siblings at the funfair.
That didn’t mean I was prepared for the sight of them all together, along with their partners, her parents, and other older people who I assumed were friends or aunts and uncles.
Or the level of noise. They called to each other from different locations in the house, doors constantly opened and shut, feet pounded on the stairs, competing music playing in each room and sports on the TV.
And there was laughter. Lots and lots of laughter.
I’d thought Nick and I could be rowdy when we were kids, but it was nothing compared to this lot. Elle by herself actually seemed quiet in comparison. I could feel her hand tightening on my elbow like she was worried I was going to bolt.
She waved to a couple of people in the living room as we passed through quickly, but once we got to the dining room, there was a yell and she was basically abducted from my side and thrown over the shoulder of a wiry redhead who looked about Nick’s age.
‘Put me down, idiot,’ Elle complained.
‘No. Mom said to bring you straight to her when you arrived. I’m just following orders.’
‘Idiot,’ she repeated with half a laugh and punched him hard in the kidneys. Wow. Perhaps I needn’t have been so worried at the biker bar the other week with her at my side.
‘Jesus H Christ, Elle,’ he groaned and dropped her, bending awkwardly at the waist. He eyed her resentfully but then he held up his hand, palm out in invitation. ‘Sweet move though – glad to see you can still look after yourself.’
She high-fived him. ‘Of course, I can. And I’ll go straight to Mom, OK? It’s where I was heading anyhow.’
‘Uh-uh. Hang on. Who’s this?’ He pointed a finger at me.
‘This is my friend Stephen.’
‘A boyfriend type of friend?’
‘No. A friend type of friend.’
‘Are you sure? He looks just like your type A preferred brand of date.’
I raised my eyebrows and looked at her, but she crossed her arms and kept her focus on him. ‘Timothy Lyle Kingston, I will kick you in the nuts if you don’t drop it.’
He held up his hands in surrender.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ I offered politely.
‘Hey, dude.’ He grinned and shook my hand but turned to Elle with a frown. ‘So, you never answered me about the blind date—’
‘I did. You just chose not to listen. And I don’t want to go over it again now.’
Without waiting for his response, she started dragging me through the house again.
‘So, that’s your brother Tim.’
‘Yeah. That’s him.’ Her voice was unnaturally bright. For some reason I didn’t feel as willing to let it drop as I had at the funfair.
‘Why won’t you let him set you up? And what exactly is your type A preferred brand of man?’
She came to a stop at the door into the kitchen, sighed and pulled me aside.
‘Listen, Stephen, you and I have sparred enough that I know you must have a similar family rapport, with the banter and the teasing. The thing is, you will hear a lot of jests about my love life here today. There will be talk of my type A and type B, and the merry band of misfits who are my exes. But if we are going to stay here and talk my dad into doing you this favour and remain friends, I ask that you pretend you haven’t heard it. Please?’
Her cheeks were flushed, and her fingers fluttered around straightening the strap of her dress, which required no straightening. I wanted to close my hand around hers to soothe away this uncharacteristic self-consciousness. ‘You know…there’s a fine line between banter and bullying.’
‘They don’t mean any harm.’
‘It doesn’t mean they’re not doing some, Elle.’
She frowned up at me, as though she didn’t recognise me. ‘I can handle them.’
‘Obviously. Will you punch me in the kidneys if I don’t drop it, too?’ I joked, trying to lighten the mood again. I didn’t want her to think I was criticising her family, without even knowing them.
‘Oh no. You’d be expecting that, and type A guys deserve much worse.
’ She winked at me before walking into the narrow galley kitchen.
A woman, the same height as Elle with fair hair braided back, was standing at the sink washing a large bowl, looking out the window at a bunch of men who were crowded around a grill on the lawn.
‘Mom.’ Elle slid her arm around her mother and leaned her head on her shoulder with a sigh like she was home and could finally relax.
Grief ripped through my gut; a simple thought — that my safe place was gone — cutting me off at the knees. And that it wasn’t ever going to stop hurting.
They were chatting about a salad her mother wanted her to make and then Elle turned to me with a smile in her eyes, which dimmed when she caught my expression.
I did my best to put my face back together despite my chest being scraped hollow and offered her a small smile in return.
I could see she wasn’t fooled. That made me think of Mum too – she’d never been fooled either.
‘Oh, who’s this?’ Elle’s mother turned a second later and grabbed a dish towel to wipe her hands.
‘This is Stephen, from London.’
‘Well, you sure came a long way for a barbecue.’
Elle rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. ‘He’s working in New York for the summer but we met in England at Christmas.’
‘And is Elle showing you all the sights?’
‘Absolutely, she’s been a wonderful tour guide.’
‘Oh Lord, that accent.’ Her mother lifted her eyebrows and threw a look at Elle just like the ones I’d seen Elle give Beth – conspiring and amused. ‘So are you—’
‘No,’ Elle interrupted. ‘I have a favour to ask of Dad for him, though.’
‘Right. Best let your father finish cooking and get some food in him. You know how antsy he gets when he’s hungry.
’ She smiled at me again. There was something so unhurried in her manner, calm and patient, which was not what I would’ve expected of a woman with seven children, but then maybe one got to a point where trying to control the surrounding chaos was impossible.
‘Help yourself to whatever you like, honey. You’re very welcome here. ’
‘Thank you—?’
‘Belinda.’ She held out her hand, soft and warm from washing up, and I took it and pressed it between mine gently.
‘Belinda. You’re very kind.’
She smiled at me with mischief in her eyes and as Elle tugged me towards the doors where the yard was, I heard her murmur. ‘What a charmer.’
There was that word again.
‘Are you OK?’ Elle pressed her shoulder to my arm as we descended the steps off the decking and headed for the grill. The smell of charcoal and sweetly marinated meat filled my nose and my stomach growled.
‘Of course. Just hungry.’ I didn’t want her to think I was having my second emotional breakdown in less than two hours.
‘Well, like my mom said, it’ll be best to tackle Dad after the food, so tuck in when it’s served up and just do your charming British thing.’
I stifled a sigh.
The group of men all stopped talking and turned as we reached them. They looked like someone had stamped them out using the same cookie cutter. All just above average height with the same short red hair and grey eyes, age was the only discerning factor at a first glance.
As Elle did brief introductions, I looked out for memorable characteristics I could link to their names, the same way I had to do when I met new clients.
Teddy and Alfie, the twins, were going to be a challenge, but Alfie had a concentrated group of freckles on his forehead and Teddy had darker eyebrows.
Sam wore his hair longer and there was a flick of dark ink at the edge of his collar that was most likely a tattoo, which would help me separate him from the eldest, Tim, when he was back around. Her dad’s name was Ken.
While I was examining them to memorise their names, I realised they were eyeing me back with as much concentration, like a pack of overprotective wolves. One of them – Alfie – was spinning an American football in his hand.
‘You wanna join us in a game of touch football while we wait for Dad and Elle to finish on the grill?’
When had she suddenly been volunteered to help cook?
And she had a salad to make with her mother.
It was beginning to look like I was hardly going to see her.
Not that I was here as a date. I was her friend and frankly, grateful to call myself that much considering the ups and downs of our relationship.
‘No. No, no,’ Elle immediately interjected. ‘I want no weird, macho, BS happening, please. Stephen is a guest in our house, he hails from a civilised country, and I expect you guys to show him that Americans can be as well-mannered as Brits, OK?’
‘We’ll be good, I promise. He looks fit and able.
Very Type A.’ He sniggered and nudged his twin.
Elle sent him a look filled with daggers but I felt a little like we were in it together now.
Whatever the hell her Type A was, I was going to be ribbed about it, too.
‘You ever played American football, Stephen?’
‘No. I’ve played rugby. It’s similar, I think. We don’t worry about helmets and shoulder pads for it, though.’
‘Oh-ho, is that so?’ Alfie laughed. ‘Think you’re tougher than us Yanks do you—’
‘No. No. No.’ Any moment now Elle was going to start stamping her feet.
‘Relax.’ Teddy put his arm around her shoulders. ‘We’re just teasing. We need to have a game of something, though. Work up our appetite.’
‘How about baseball?’ A little voice piped up and a young girl, barely a teenager, came careening across the grass at us, launching herself into Elle’s arms.
‘Daisy, for goodness’ sake, don’t throw yourself around when there’s a grill right here,’ her father scolded, shaking his head. ‘You want me to have a heart attack?’
‘C’mon.’ Elle gave her sister a squeeze and led her further onto the grass, away from the grill. ‘You gonna sort these boys out and keep ’em in line for me, while I help get the food ready?’
‘You can’t play?’
‘Look, I know it’s hilarious to watch me attempt sports, but the oldies need assistance.’
‘Less of the oldies, thank you,’ Ken called out.
‘Fine.’ Daisy sighed. ‘You wanna play cards after we eat? Uncle Joe’s been teaching me poker.’
‘You’re on. What do you bet with? Candy?’
‘Candy? What am I, a kinderg?rtner? No – we play for money.’ Daisy fastened her hair up in a knot and gave her big sister a look like she was delusional.
‘Oh well, in that case, I might have to get you to bankroll me. I didn’t bring any cash.’
‘I can take an IOU.’
‘So sure you’re gonna win? Uncle Joe taught me how to play when I was your age.’
‘Exactly – a million years ago. You’re going to be rusty by now.’
Elle shrieked with faux-outrage and started chasing her sister around the garden. The twins joined in, one siding with Elle, the other with Daisy, lifting the small teenager up and putting her in the tree by the fence.
I smiled at the sight of Elle, surrounded by her siblings.
Despite the teasing, it was clear there was affection overflowing between them all.
She was in her element and I wondered why she would have chosen not to be with them at Christmas time last year.
It didn’t make sense to me and I wanted her to explain it. I wanted to know it all.
But not get punched in the kidneys for asking.