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WITH TREMBLING HANDS, the stylist accepted the scrap of paper and Trixie leaned in against him so she could view it as well. A fortysomething version of Marco stood with his arm wrapped around a stunning brunette wearing an electric blue batwing dress that positively screamed eighties fashion. In her arms was nestled a bundle wrapped in a blue crocheted blanket. Jet black hair peaked out from under a blue knitted cap. The woman was smiling at the camera and the man was smiling at her, his face full of love and pride.
‘Wow,’ Trixie gushed. ‘What an amazing couple. Your mum is so hot, no wonder he almost left his wife for her.’
Fat tears began to flow down Marco’s cheeks as he absorbed the subject matter of the picture. ‘I never thought I’d ever have a pic of them together,’ he whimpered. ‘I never thought I’d ever have a pic of my ma again. This is beyond cool.’ His voice cracked and they heard a distinct sob. Trixie began to look concerned.
‘Perhaps I should take that photo for safekeeping,’ she suggested gently, and deftly extracted it from between his fingers. ‘You don’t want it to get wet.’
Marco’s tears began to flow unchecked and the other men began to back away, keen to distance themselves from such raw emotion. Jack muttered something unintelligible under his breath and took a step closer to his friend, although it was Horace who got there first.
‘Here you go,’ he handed the driver a handkerchief and patted him kindly on the shoulder. ‘Give us a butchers at that photo, Trix. Let’s see what all the fuss is about.’
His sister held up the piece of paper and Horace whistled appreciatively. ‘What a stunner,’ he thumped Marco on the upper arm. ‘There’s no need to get yourself all worked up over one little photograph,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You can take it into town tomorrow and have it framed. That’s something to look forward to. Trixie will go with you. She adores that kind of malarkey.’
Marco sniffed again and dabbed his eyes with the handkerchief. ‘I forgot I sprayed this hanky with lavender water,’ he spoke through the tears. It really does work. I know I should be grateful to have the photograph. I’m just so disappointed it’s the only one the lads could fine.’
Horace rolled his eyes and said, ‘Why don’t we all repair to the kitchen so I can show the little stinker how wrong he is?’
Nobody had any fault to find with this plan. While Trixie and Diane shot off to different bathrooms to use the facilities, Dorothy set about making drinks for everyone. Nobody knew for certain where Glenda was, and refrained from speculating upon or mentioning her conspicuous absence from the kitchen. Dorothy herself did not appear to notice the lack of a housekeeper, and pottered around with Charlie while the rest of the group made themselves comfortable around the island.
Horace went to the boot room to check on Trotsky and found his basket empty and his leash missing. He knew Glenda had very likely taken him for a walk in the direction of Ralph’s house. Within an hour of setting foot in the so-called palace, it had become clear to him the housekeeper and gardener was lovers. Since the situation was not discussed openly, he wisely followed the others’ lead and pretended it was not happening.
In all likelihood, Glenda was snuggled up in front of Ralph’s fire watching the afternoon movie with him and Bunny, while Trotsky gnawed on yet another lamb bone, delighted with the company and unexpected treat. Horace sighed heavily and looked at his own reflection in the mirror over the basin. ‘It might be best not to dwell for too long on the notion of snuggling up in front of the fire with one’s beloved,’ he advised the other man firmly.
Exiting the boot room, he went to the nook where he collected a large drawing pad and a collection of other materials. He claimed the seat at the end of the island which offered the most elbow room, and ordered Trixie to hold up the photograph of Marco and his parents. Then he picked up a stick of charcoal and began to sketch.
By the time Dorothy had made the first pot of tea and Diane had rejoined the group, the first drawing was complete. It was a full faced depiction of Martina Kelly, her long black hair caressing her shoulders and her brown eyes peeking wickedly through long lashes. Horace ripped the top sheet off the pad and passed it to Marco.
‘She’s the perfect model,’ his hazel eyes softened as they rested on the other man’s face. ‘It’s incredibly easy to draw a beautiful woman.’
He took a sip of the tea Charlie placed near him and set about making a further sketch. This one was identical to the photograph, and captured the look of love in Mario’s eyes as he embraced his lover. When he had finished, he pulled it out of the pad and passed it along to a stunned Marco. Then he turned to Simone and asked, ‘Would you like one of Charlie?’
When Simone answered most emphatically in the affirmative, Horace drank more tea then began to draw Charlie’s face using long, precise strokes. Soon he had captured her likeness in a way that was uncanny.
‘It’s almost as if you can see another person’s soul,’ Marco sounded almost humble. ‘You’re incredible. Thank you very much, Nelson.’
Horace chuckled and passed the picture to Simone, who grabbed it eagerly and held it against her chest in a proprietary fashion. ‘Remember this moment the next time we’re shopping,’ he told Marco, as he began to sketch again.
‘We should go into town tomorrow,’ Trixie piped up, ‘and have these sketches framed.’
‘Nonsense,’ Horace protested. ‘These are far too rough to have framed. I’ll work on a decent watercolour or acrylic for him. He should have something of the highest quality to hang over the fireplace.’
He continued to sketch, oblivious to the tears that had started flowing down Marco’s cheeks again. ‘I’m sorry I bullied you into buying those designer jocks when you wanted the hideous baggy skivvies,’ he sobbed against Jack’s shoulder.
‘I’m getting used to them now,’ Horace frowned in concentration. ‘Although I feel as if I might burst out of these trousers at any moment. How a chap’s supposed to move in these fancy threads is beyond me.’
‘You made the guy buy homo pants,’ Jack addressed his friend’s head. ‘I hope you’re suitably ashamed of yourself, bro.’
‘I didn’t want him showing up at Little Badger looking like a hobo,’ Marco sniffed against Jack. ‘I’m sorry I bullied him into buying the clothes. I only wanted him to look nice for his ma.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Trixie piped up. ‘Why did Marco have to take Nellie shopping in the first place, and why would Nellie look like a hobo? What did I miss?’
While Horace continued to sketch, the others took turns at filling in some background details. Josh and Deco got out their phones and showed Trixie the photographs they had taken of her brother on his last birthday, as he clutched his guitar, his mass of facial hair almost becoming entangled with the strings like a folksinger from the seventies.
By the time Trixie had oohed and aahed her way through the entire collection, Horace had completed four more sketches. He dropped the charcoal and polished off the last drop of his tea. ‘Don’t touch that pad,’ he ordered, and shot off to the boot room for a pee.
Still reeling from shock, Trixie regarded Josh and Deco in astonishment. ‘I can’t believe Nellie was living in a tiny little cottage and working as a gardener,’ she gasped. ‘I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. No wonder he needed new clothes and a haircut. I know he’s rather cross right now, Marco, but I for one am grateful to you for making him toe the line. Daddy would have been furious if he had shown up at home looking like a tramp and upsetting Mummy. She hates beards on a good day, and she’s so looking forward to seeing Nellie...’ she trailed off, overcome with emotion at the thoughts of her mother’s feelings on the subject of her long-lost son.
‘In that case, we should definitely go shopping tomorrow,’ Marco perked up at the unqualified vote of confidence. ‘I can’t bully him into buying more stuff, but you don’t have that problem because you’re his sister so all bets are off.’
‘That’s very true,’ she brightened, ‘although I’m not sure if I have enough cash for an outing like that, and my bloody credit card is maxed out again. I’m such an appalling spendthrift.’
‘There’s no need to worry about that, Trixie,’ Dorothy said firmly. ‘There’s plenty of cash in the safe for you and your brother. I don’t want him to be short of anything for his trip home so it’s best to get it sorted now.’
‘Gosh,’ the girl’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, although she glanced warily at James. ‘Do you think that would be okay, Dam?’ She asked timidly. ‘Lance wouldn’t approve.’
‘Don’t tell him,’ James shrugged. ‘It’s none of his fecking business what the boss does with her money. You could shop every day and still not bankrupt her.’
‘Is that true, Dorothy?’ Trixie eyed her in wonder. Are you stinking rich? I thought perhaps the newspapers exaggerated your wealth.’
‘They underestimated it by about twenty million,’ she smiled at the guest. ‘I hope you’ll allow me to take care of you while you’re our guest, Trixie. You weren’t thinking of staying in a hotel or anything foolish like that, were you?’
Horace crept back in and was in time to see the expression of chagrin that crossed his sister’s face. ‘Lance says I’m to stay in a hotel,’ she sounded mortified, ‘although I could see Mummy was none too pleased at that. She worries about me travelling alone. She’s an old fusspot sometimes, but that’s only because ever since we lost Nellie...’ she stopped speaking and flushed.
‘I’d be more than happy to discuss the accommodations with every member of your family,’ Dorothy assured her, ‘although one thing is for certain. There is no way you are staying in a hotel, either tonight or tomorrow night. As soon as Glenda gets back, we’ll have a room fixed up for you.’
‘No need, Boss,’ Marco jumped in. ‘She can stay on the top floor with me and Rosa. The room’s all ready. Maybe I should take up your bag now, Trixie, and let you get changed into something more comfortable. We can hang out in the basement until dinner and have a few drinks. There’s plenty of champagne in the chiller. Do you like cocktails?’
‘Love them,’ she smiled at him in delight. ‘I’ll just give Mummy a quick call so she knows I’m in safe hands. I don’t want her to worry.’ She slid off the stool and made for the exit. James quickly followed suit.
‘Have you got a little something in your bag for me, Trix?’ he asked as he pursued her.
‘It’s in my handbag,’ she told him as they neared the door. ‘My friend, Bonnie, was the one who actually got hold of it. I had to give her my Jade Jagger diamond arrow earrings in return. I hope it’s as important as you said, Dam, because those were my favourite earrings, and they cost over a thousand pounds.’ Whatever reply James made was lost as the siblings exited the room.
‘What was all that about?’ Simone looked at Dorothy, who merely shrugged and began to clear away the dishes. ‘One never knows with James,’ she replied gravely, as she collected the white mugs. ‘One is surrounded by men who are incredibly secretive at times. One doesn’t even bother to ask half the bleeding time.’
‘One urgently needs a slash,’ Deco jumped off his stool. ‘One is looking forward with great anticipation to spending the remainder of the day with the beautiful Lady Beatrix. One only wishes one could see her in a bikini.’
‘You two feck off and leave her alone,’ Diane told him fiercely. ‘She’s Mum’s guest, and you should treat her with respect.’
‘One is sorry to be so uncouth,’ Deco bowed mockingly, and ran in the direction of the boot room. ‘Marco’s right though, the chick is a ten-speed ride.’ They were just able to make out the words before the door slammed.
While this distraction was occurring and Dorothy was pottering around not paying much attention to what was going on, Horace carefully extracted one of the sketches from the pad in front of him. With a speaking look at Jack, he passed it across the unit. Jack found himself looking at the perfect likeness of Dorothy, her hair in a ponytail and her eyes sparkling with pleasure at something or someone unseen. He caught his breath in his throat and regarded Horace questioningly.
‘For you, Commander, with my compliments,’ Horace managed to execute a small bow.
As the others looked on, Jack rolled the picture up tightly and handed it to Marco. He gestured towards the nook, his meaning clear. Marco leaped off the stool and disappeared from view as he hunted for an elastic band to secure the roll of paper and secrete it behind Bunny’s toys so it could be retrieved later. By the time he returned, the dishwasher was packed and Dorothy was speculating aloud about the dinner menu. Right on cue, Glenda came bustling in with Deco behind her, holding Trotsky by his leash.
‘I’m so sorry, Boss,’ the housekeeper sounded out of breath. ‘I took Trotsky for a walk while it was still light, and completely lost track of time. I’ll get started on dinner.’
‘You might want to take the weight off for five minutes before you get stuck in,’ Dorothy regarded her with affectionate amusement. ‘You missed the unexpected arrival of a woman of noble birth, to say nothing of some pretty impressive artwork.’
Deco unclipped Trotsky’s leash but the dog only went to his master for a quick pat before he burrowed in next to Diane’s stool and put his head on her lap. She stroked him almost absentmindedly as if such behaviour was par for the course. She had pulled one of Marco’s sketches closer and was scrutinising Martina Kelly.
Horace feasted his eyes upon her face while she was absorbed, noting the pain behind her green eyes and the dark circles under them, no doubt the result of many sleepless nights. Unbidden, an image of her lying in bed wearing only a nightgown popped into his mind and he was shocked at the way his body stirred in response. In a way which suggested Diane had been well aware of his scrutiny, her eyes flew to his and she raised a haughty eyebrow.
‘Why are you staring at me, Nelson?’ she enquired coldly.
‘Because you’re beautiful and I love you and I can’t bear to see you in pain,’ he replied truthfully. ‘I’d do anything to make you feel better and restore your faith in human nature.’
There was a shocked silence in the kitchen as Diane flushed to the roots of her hair. Even Josh seemed shaken from his detachment, and frowned at the sight of his twin’s blushing countenance.
‘My apologies,’ Horace did not sound in the least repentant. ‘I forgot I’ve wandered into the house where nobody admits their true feelings.’ He opened the drawing pad and pulled out the topmost sketch. ‘Here you go, Clive,’ he said, as he passed it to the protection officer. ‘Perhaps your bride will enjoy that.’
‘You’ve captured him beautifully,’ Charlie gushed over the sketch of the Welshman, hoping to distract from Diane’s discomfiture and Horace’s blatant honesty. The others took the hint and made plenty of complimentary remarks about the drawing. Horace shook his head in disbelief and held up the pad of paper so Dorothy could see the page.
It showed Josh and Deco standing side by side wearing ninja costumes. Each boy brandished a sword, while they regarded the world with eyes that were watchful and hard.
‘It’s a permanent reminder of the week the boys left their youth behind,’ he smiled at her tenderly. ‘I’m going to miss the old pair, although I daresay we’ll grow accustomed to this latest version. Shall I rip it up?’
‘No!’ she exclaimed. ‘I love it. Is it really for me?’
‘It certainly is,’ he chuckled. ‘I never knew folks to get so excited over a few scribbles.’
‘They’re not scribbles,’ Diane unexpectedly addressed him. ‘You’re extremely talented, although for some reason you can’t see it. You should think about setting up a studio when you get home. I expect there’s plenty of space at Little Badger.’
‘A studio is a long-term commitment,’ his brow furrowed. ‘I’m only going home for a month. I’ll be back in Ireland in plenty of time for Christmas.’
Diane regarded him levelly, although it was Marco who made the disbelieving sound deep in his throat.
‘Does nobody think I’ll be back?’ Horace looked around at the group, his expression almost comically dismayed.
‘You’re the Honourable Nelson,’ Simone said sympathetically. ‘Why do you think Dottie wants you to have a full wardrobe before you leave? Once the clan get their greedy mitts on you, they won’t ever let you go. Surely you realise that?’
‘We should buy him a tux, Boss,’ Marco said, even as he watched the other man’s face cloud over. ‘If it needs alterations, we can leave it with Meg & Mo and courier it over to Windsor next week. It’s a shame we don’t have time to have a decent suit made for him. He’d look pure fab in tweed so he would.’
Horace buried his face in his hands and moaned unhappily. James and Trixie were in time to witness these dramatics as they returned to the kitchen.
‘S’up bro?’ James enquired curiously.
‘A wave of hard cold reality just washed over him,’ Jack reported dourly. ‘I never thought I’d feel sorry for the dude, but I wouldn’t change places with him for a million bucks.’
‘Yes you would,’ Dorothy grinned at her head of security. ‘You’d take the money, raid the governor’s supply of stogies and then scale the walls of Little Badger and leave the family high and dry.’
‘I’m not sure what a stogie is, although I’m sure Daddy would be thrilled to welcome you to Little Badger,’ Trixie sidled up to Jack while the others chuckled in amusement. ‘I must warn you though, it’s an absolute barn compared to this lovely cosy house.’
‘You think this house is cosy?’ Deco spluttered.
‘I certainly do,’ she looked surprised. ‘Dam’s just given me a quick tour of this floor and it’s jolly cosy. There’s not one ghastly portrait of a dodgy ancestor hanging on any of the walls, or a rug that’s been in the family for generations and can’t possibly be thrown out because it’s some sort of heirloom. This is a dream home.’
‘A dream home,’ Dorothy repeated in a hollow voice. As she recalled the day she had given Bel a tour of the almost-finished house, a spasm of pain shot through her chest and her face crumpled. Jack made to move, but Simone got there first. She hopped off her stool and put her arm around her friend.
‘Why don’t you take a little nap before dinner?’ she suggested kindly. ‘I’ll help Glenda with the cooking.’
‘I’ll go with you, Mum,’ Diane stood up. ‘I’ll lie down with you on the waterbed if that’s okay.’
This suggestion motivated Dorothy in a way nothing else could. She said she would lie down before dinner, and asked Marco to take care of Trixie and make sure she had everything she might need. Then she went to drop a kiss on Horace’s cheek.
‘Try not to worry,’ she whispered. ‘It will all work out in the end. If things turn nasty at Little Badger, I’ll send Jack to spring you.’
‘Don’t forget your sketch,’ he rolled the large sheet of paper carefully and handed it to her. ‘Hold it firmly so it doesn’t unravel. Thank you for everything.’
She smiled tearfully and turned to go. Jack put out a restraining arm to stop her. ‘Take the elevator,’ he said in an undertone.
‘I will,’ she flicked his face with the back of her finger and smiled tiredly at him. ‘Always the fusspot.’
Gripping the roll of paper in one hand, Dorothy put her free arm around her daughter and together they left the room, promising to resurface in time for dinner.
When they were gone, Horace looked at Jack. ‘Would you really spring me from Little Badger if she asked you?’
‘Sure,’ he shrugged. ‘Me and the guys could use a bit of craic after the past couple of weeks.’
‘Jimbo,’ Marco looked over his shoulder to pinpoint the location of the other man, ‘would you be up for stealing a chopper?’
‘Absolutely,’ was the calm rejoinder. ‘I’m getting sick and tired of my brother’s highhanded attitude to the birds. We’ll start with the fancy toy he keeps parked on his front lawn. That’ll really piss the fecker off.’
‘Nellie, are you planning to start flying again once you get home?’ Marco enquired.
‘Absolutely not,’ he shook his head definitively. ‘I have no intention of renewing my licence. My flying days are over.’
James opened his mouth to protest but Trixie, who had been listening to this exchange in wonder, elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Nellie doesn’t have to make any decisions about anything until he’s had a chance to settle in at home,’ she said in her best grown up voice. ‘Shall we head down to the basement so Glenda can get on with her chores? I give you boys fair warning I’m an excellent snooker player. Dam taught me.’
‘She’s a high achiever,’ James explained with a hint of pride. ‘Except in her career choices.’
‘I enjoy being a personal shopper,’ Trixie replied with dignity. ‘Who wants to sit in a stuffy office all day and push paperwork?’
‘Do you shop for all the London billionaires?’ Marco asked eagerly.
‘I certainly do,’ she looked smug. ‘My company specialises in sourcing rare items for discerning customers. I’m the junior partner in the organisation at present, although I intend to be the boss one day when I’ve gained more experienced. Lance says it’s good I’m learning the ropes properly before I swoop in and take over.’
‘Wow,’ Charlie stared at her in blatant admiration. ‘Brains and beauty.’ The neat device attached to her belt suddenly squawked and made her jump. ‘The baby’s awake,’ she blushed. ‘I must go and fetch her.’
‘Before you go,’ Trixie looked embarrassed. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask, although I obviously couldn’t do it in front of Dorothy.’
‘Shoot,’ Marco urged, when she paused.
‘Am I the only one who’s confused about Dorian Ganley?’ was the entirely unexpected question.
‘Why does everyone keep asking that?’ An exasperated voice spoke and Rosa strode up to the island looking irate. She was wearing a purple jumper over a pair of black skinny jeans, and her slim feet were encased in furry slippers. Her eyes were heavy and her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail as if she had no patience with it.
‘The boss is dating DG and he appears to be serious about her if the gifts he’s bestowing upon her are any indication. He’s a prize catch and the boss is the one who hooked him. Kudos to the boss. I don’t know why you all keep querying the relationship as if there’s some big mystery about it.’
‘So I’m not the only one who’s confused?’ Trixie sounded relieved.
‘Has anyone heard from Keith?’ Rosa sounded cranky. ‘Who’s this British chick? What did I miss?’
Upstairs, Dorothy watched Diane’s sleeping face. Within minutes of entering the suite, the girl had shed her clothes, pulled on one of her mother’s nightshirts and crawled into the waterbed. She lay awake and watched Dorothy removing the scrunchie from her hair and locating a pair of pyjamas for herself. By the time her mother approached the bed, she was sound asleep, her little face at peace for a blessed hour or two.
Dorothy crept back to the sofa where she had left the rolled-up sketch. Despite what Horace said about it being too rough, she had every intention of having it framed and hung on her office at Barns next to the one of Marco wearing fatigues. She carefully unrolled the drawing, mindful of tearing a corner and ruining it. The paper felt too thick under her fingers until she realised there were in fact two sketches. He must have given me an extra one by mistake.
She lifted the top page depicting Josh and Deco, and set it down carefully on the coffee table. She was left holding a picture of Jack. The grey eyes, which were always watchful, stared out of the drawing and seemed to bore into hers. The scar on his temple was more vivid than usual, as if the artist found it interesting. The size of Jack’s neck above the v of his T-shirt surprised her. She had grown so used to the dimensions of his body and his scars, she had forgotten what an intimidating appearance he presented on first acquaintance.
‘You’re nothing but an oversized goon,’ she lovingly traced the lines of his face with the tip of her index finger. When she had looked her fill, she carried the picture to her storage area and spent five minutes locating a suitable hiding place for it. It might be better to have it framed along with the other one. Pictures of Jack and Marco hanging side by side were unlikely to result in many raised eyebrows.
‘That’s a decision for another day,’ she sighed wearily, as she crept into bed next to Diane and set her phone alarm.
‘I hope those boys are taking care of her ladyship. I’m super-relieved to have Horace back in my life, even if he has a habit of seeing way more than is good for him. It’s a shame he has to go away so soon.’
Two minutes later she was asleep.
