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Tim arrived at his sister’s house half an hour later than expected. Mel waved his apology away with an impatient flick of her hand.
“There’s food in the fridge,” she said. “There’s a Tesco order on Monday. We’re not expecting anyone to call for anything, apart from the guys who are coming to repair the greenhouse. That’s next week. It’s all written on the calendar.” She swanned off up the stairs as she spoke, forcing Tim to hitch his laptop bag up and follow her. “You’re in the guest room,” she said. “You know where everything is. I’ve sent you the list of what Niamh is allowed to do. She knows the rules.” She paused at the door of the guest room. “In fact, where is she? Niamh? Niamh.”
While his sister was distracted, Tim ducked past her into the room and dumped his laptop bag onto the bed. His other bag was in the car. It could come in later. In the hallway, Mel barked, “Niamh get down here. NOW!”
Mel lived in the nice part of town, in a tidy, four bedroomed house that had a garden big enough to have a greenhouse in it. Unlike the flat that Tim rented, it felt airy and full of light. He leaned against the window frame and looked out at the well-tended front lawns in the street. One day, he would be able to live in a place like this. Although, in all honesty, he spent all his time either at his laptop or crashed out in front of the telly these days, so what was the point of a nice house if you barely noticed it? Besides, this was the sort of place that needed more than one person to make it feel lived in. He’d had hopes that Sarah ... he shook his head. No. He couldn’t think about that. That way lay misery.
There was a hissed mother/daughter argument taking place on the stairs down from Niamh’s attic room. Tim rubbed his eyes. This was not a great start.
Outside, a dark car pulled up. Mel’s husband Alex got out. Alex was still in his suit and, by the time he reached the front door, on the phone again. Tim liked Alex. He worked too hard, according to Mel, but apart from that, seemed nice enough. He was kind to Niamh, which counted for a lot in Tim’s opinion.
“Oh, thank goodness, Alex is here,” said Mel.
There was a clatter of footsteps and Mel and Niamh came downstairs. Right now, with matching expressions of annoyance, they looked exactly alike – both slim and blonde, with the same oval faces – like time lapse images of each other. Niamh gave Tim a nod by way of a greeting before she got dragged downstairs by her mother. Tim followed.
“You’re late,” Mel said to Alex. “Now we’re going to be late.”
Alex held up a finger. “Yes, I’ll be back by then. Okay. Look, I’ve got to go,” he said into the phone. After a few seconds, he said, “Thanks” and hung up. “I’m sorry,” he said, giving Mel a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. “Things overran.”
“You’re not going to be able to use that thing while you’re on the retreat,” said Mel, pointing at the mobile phone. “So you may as well leave it behind.”
Alex gave her an incredulous glare and put his phone in his pocket. “Are you leaving yours?”
“No, but I’ve got to have it to check in on Niamh.” Mel strode into the living room, where the packed bags were waiting. “There are the bags. Let’s get going, or we won’t get there until the small hours of the morning and we’re supposed to be in mindfulness class by nine tomorrow morning.”
“Can I at least get changed first,” said Alex.
“No! We’re late already.” Mel was practically jumping with impatience.
Alex put a hand on her shoulder. “How about you practice your breathing for a moment. Slow down. That’s what this retreat is all about, why not practice.”
“But—”
Alex strode past Niamh and Tim and disappeared upstairs. Tim caught Niamh’s eye. Was it always like this? Niamh shrugged and looked away.
Mel clicked her tongue. “You see?” She said to Tim. “See what I mean?”
Tim took another glance at Niamh, who had hunched into herself and was watching her mother through her hair. “Tell you what,” he said. “Why don’t we put the bags in the car while we wait for Alex?”
“Good idea.” Mel grabbed her handbag. “I have spare keys.” She pulled out the keys, picked up one of the bags, leaving Tim to pick up the other, and went outside.
Tim glanced at Niamh again, who rolled her eyes and picked up a smaller day bag. They took the bags outside and popped them in the boot of the car. Tim arranged the bags so that they wouldn’t slide around too much on the drive.
He got back to the hallway just as Mel pulled Niamh to her in a fierce hug and kissed her forehead.
“Now be good and don’t give Uncle Tim any trouble.” Mel patted her daughter on the cheek. Niamh rolled her eyes. Her eyes were the thing that was different from her mother’s. Where Mel’s eyes were blue, Niamh’s were startling green, like her late father’s.
Alex appeared on the stairs behind them. He had changed into jeans and a shirt, but he still looked distinguished, with his long, clean-cut face and hair that was greying at the temples. Tim wasn’t greying yet, but he was willing to bet money that he wouldn’t do it as gracefully as Alex did.
“And you,” said Mel, pointing at Tim and making him jump. “Look after my precious baby.”
“Muuum!” said Niamh.
“Well you are precious,” said Mel.
“And I will look after her. Or we’ll look after each other. Now you go off and enjoy yourself,” said Tim.
“I won’t be able to have my phone on me most of the time, so you’ll have to call the main reception if there’s anything urgent. Have you got the number?”
“Yes,” said Tim. He stood next to his niece. “We’ll be fine. Won’t we Niamh?”
“Yeah. Bye, Mum. Have a great time. You too, Alex.” Niamh stood by the door, her back to Tim and waved her mother and stepfather off. When, at last, the car pulled away, Niamh closed the door and turned to him. “I don’t know why Mum thought you needed to come,” she said. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
Tim put up his hands. “Woah. Steady on. You’re fourteen. Mel can’t leave you alone in the house for two weeks. Anyway, I’m not here to babysit. I have work to do. I’m just here to be an adult presence. If you need one. Okay?”
Niamh stuck her hands in her jeans pockets and looked at him through her hair. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” said Tim. “Your mum left me a list of rules ... Look, I need a coffee. Let’s go see what she’s said and figure out what we can live with.”
By the time they’d made coffee, the atmosphere was a little lighter. Niamh even cracked a smile.
“Oh come on,” said Tim. “It’s not that bad having your uncle to hang out with.” She used to adore him.
Niamh didn’t say anything, but she pulled a face. “At least you’ll be better than Mum and Alex.”
Tim raised an eyebrow. As a child, Niamh had been really impressed by that. Clearly, now that she was older, being the cool uncle was a lot harder work.
“They need this retreat,” said Niamh, meaningfully. “Things were getting ... snappy.”
Oh dear. No wonder Mel had been so adamant about going on this retreat. With one failed marriage behind her, she would be keen to keep this one intact. If Niamh had noticed, then things must have deteriorated further than Mel had let on. “Ah. That bad, huh?”
“Yeah. Things aren’t the best around here at the moment.”
He looked at her for a second. The attitude had subsided a little. Enough to let him see that she looked tired and worried. Poor kid. It had been a tough year for her. First her father’s sudden death, now this. “How are you, Niamh? Are you okay?”
“Well, I could be better,” said Niamh. She fiddled with her nails, picking off nail varnish. “Uncle Tim? Could you do me a favour?”
Uh oh. He knew that tone. It was almost exactly the same tone that Mel used before she bossed him into doing something. “Depends what it is,” he said, cautiously.
“Could you take me to Yorkshire?”
He laughed. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Whatever for?”
“I want to go see Harriet.”
A prickle of alarm shot down his back. “Who’s Harriet?” he asked, even though he knew exactly who Harriet was. She was the woman who had wrecked Mel’s first marriage. Richard’s mistress.
“Dad’s girlfriend.” She kept picking at her nails, not looking up.
He had only met the Harriet woman once, at Richard’s funeral, when she’d stood, a silent, drooping figure, not speaking to anyone. But then, why would she? The rest of the people there were Richard’s friends and family and it appeared he’d never introduced her to any of them.
“Why do you want to go see her?”
“I just do, okay? Will you take me?” Finally, she looked up, eyes flashing.
“No. Well, I can, but I’d have to ask your mother first.”
Niamh shot to her feet. “No. She never—” She made a ‘ugh’ noise. “Never mind.” She stamped off.
Tim listened to her footsteps thumping up the stairs and drank his coffee. That could have gone better.