Just for the Holidays: Your perfect summer read!. Sue Moorcroft

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September if, by then, the pain has gone, my orthopaedic surgeon says I’m OK and my Aviation Medical Examiner agrees. I’m on full pay so I expect my boss, Henry, will want me back in the air as soon as possible – as I want to be. Flying’s one of those things that isn’t so much what someone does but what they are. If I can’t fly …’ He lifted his hands in a gesture of despondency.

      At this stage, most people demanded details of the landing, whether he’d hurt anyone else and whether he’d made the news. The answers were ‘No’ and ‘Yes’. Inevitably, a fascination with the sensational would then lead them to demand to know whether it was his fault. When the answer to that was also ‘No’ it was beyond irritating to see their faces fall at discovering no juicy incompetence to chew on.

      But Leah’s mind obviously trod a different route. ‘But your shoulder was well enough for you to drive all the way over here?’

      He flexed his shoulder. ‘We flew with an airline. Dad’s old BMW’s kept here and it’s an auto, so I can manage local journeys.’ As she’d brought up the subject of cars he decided to broach the elephant in the café. ‘I presume our exciting tour of the car park was prompted by my assumption that because the Porsche is a powerful machine it must therefore belong to your husband? I apologise for falling for sexist stereotypes but, in my defence, Alister had been quite emphatic about the big pink car not being his. As I’d seen you driving it, I therefore assumed it was yours.’

      Her eyebrows flew up. Then clanged down. ‘My what?’

      ‘Your car.’

      ‘No. Before that. Husband?’

      He tried to work out what had prompted her aghast expression. ‘Have I committed another solecism? Your partner. Significant other. Boyfriend. Baby-dadda. Alister.’

      Suddenly her smile was back, full strength and dazzling along with dancing eyes. ‘Alister’s my brother-in-law. He’s married to Michele.’

      He couldn’t hide his astonishment. ‘Alister and Michele are married?’

      A short laugh. ‘Well, separated. It’s very recent, hence their interesting decision that both should be included in the family holiday. My presence here is to defuse tension – though I’m not sure it’s working. What on earth made you think I’m married to Alister? He’s a lovely man, of course,’ she added, quickly, ‘but a lot older than me.’

      ‘The first time I saw you – when I was the one showing off, jumping in like a callow youth to air my French – Natasha fetched you to join your family and mentioned “Dad” so I mentally pigeonholed you as the mum.’

      ‘A mum to two teenagers? I obviously need to upgrade my moisturiser. Michele’s eight years older than I am and Alister’s four years older than her.’

      ‘You look miles and miles too young,’ he agreed, grinning as she rolled her eyes at his flattery. ‘But you could have started early or Natasha and Jordan could be your stepkids. Families come in many permutations. I saw you going out with Alister and the children, and with Michele having a boyfriend – though that’s explained now that I know of the separation – I drew the conclusion that you and Alister were a couple.’

      ‘Boyfriend?’ she repeated blankly. ‘Michele has a boyfriend? As in … boyfriend?’

      Uh-oh. Uh-bloody-oh. Leah was looking as shocked as if he’d just keyed her precious car. He could only think that he’d just let a particularly scabby cat out of an inadequately fastened bag. He’d escaped his own distressing domestic strife too recently to involve himself with anybody else’s and his first instinct was to backtrack. ‘Hasn’t she? Perhaps the stunt driving affected my brain. Shall we try the garage again? I’d hate the mechanics to have finished for the day by the time I get back. And you have shopping to do.’

      ‘Tell me why you think she has a boyfriend, first.’

      He shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’d much rather not.’

      She gazed at him for several seconds, then slumped back into her chair. ‘I understand.’ She took up her coffee cup as if she had nothing more on her mind than savouring its richness. Until she tacked on: ‘I’ll simply confront Michele when I get back to the gîte. I put aside my own plans to come on this holiday and supposedly save her from shooting herself.’ Her sentences began to rise both in speed and volume. ‘I’ve driven her ugly fat car and played mum while she, she said, was under the weather. I’ve endured her bitching with Alister, I’ve taken on most of the domestic drudgery, I’m doing everything I can to support her family. But a boyfriend is a detail she hasn’t shared with me and, frankly, it does put things in a different light.’

      Her colour stormed from chalky white to angry red. ‘And if I lose my temper it may involve shaking my sister by the throat. So if you want to avoid me being thrown into a French prison I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me what you think you know so that I have a chance to calm down before I get back!’

      Though taking a second to note that Leah looked amazing with her eyes snapping angrily, he could understand her feeling that she had a right to the truth. Also, if he refused to explain, it would surely mean a chill between them. And as he was already bound for Michele’s shit-list when Leah tackled her because the only ones around to report her activities were Ronan or Curtis, there seemed no point in hacking Leah off, too.

      He gave in. ‘I was painting the front of the house. A car pulled up and Michele rushed out and got into it. A man was in the driving seat. They kissed.’

      ‘Not a peck on the cheek?’ The sun picked out the gold flecks in Leah’s eyes.

      ‘By no means.’ Not unless Michele kept her cheek halfway down her throat. Then, because Leah obviously wasn’t going to give up before she’d drawn out the relevant details, he added, ‘An intimate, passionate kiss. Or ten.’

      ‘Right.’ She turned to gaze over the square.

      Ronan gave her time to absorb this obviously unexpected and unwelcome news, trying not to glance at his watch. He truly was beginning to get fidgety about his car.

      ‘Was your divorce amicable?’ she asked, suddenly. ‘I’m beginning to wonder whether they ever can be.’

      Though surprised by this tangent, he answered neutrally. ‘In my case, it was exasperating more than anything, much in keeping with Selina’s usual way of doing things. Time had already proved that we hadn’t made a heavenly match. I would have stuck with her for Curtis’s sake, but she met Darren and I was left with no real choice but to accept it and help Curtis with the realities of the break-up. I settled for “reasonably civilised” rather than “amicable” – considering how aggrieved I felt that my desire to hang on to Chez Shea meant Selina coming in for most of the equity from the marital home. It had been funded from what Dad left me plus the sweat of my brow before Selina ever moved in.

      ‘Anyway, that’s the way the law works. For nearly three years we’ve lived apart but in the same part of Orpington, close enough that we can share custody and Curtis can stay with me as my work rota allows.’

      Her gaze softened. ‘How’s it working out? I’m anxious for Natasha and Jordan.’

      He felt the familiar tug of unhappiness. ‘It’s not the same as living together full time. It’s hard, part-time fatherhood. Not able to see your child every day, being

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