been here nearly a week now and had already had two lectures from my brother and Carrie about how important breakfast was. Pointing out that I knew this thanks to half of my meetings taking place over breakfast due to differing time zones got me nothing but two exasperated looks and an explanation more suited to a 5-year-old that they were referring to the actual meal. I’d tried to laugh it off but I couldn’t shake the niggle that my automatic reaction when someone mentioned breakfast was to equate it with work and meetings rather than actual food, and that perhaps that wasn’t such a good thing.
However, I was making an effort, even if I knew it was unlikely I’d be able to keep it up once I went home. Two eggs were now floating leisurely in their silicone pods in a pan of water, slowly poaching as I prepared the toast and pulled the tub of guacamole I’d made the night before from the fridge. As the eggs began to look ready, I grabbed the toast from the toaster, spread both pieces with some of the guacamole and then plopped one perfectly poached egg on each slice.
For once I didn’t look at my phone whilst I ate – something else I’d got a telling-off from my big brother for a couple of days back when I’d dropped into the restaurant for lunch. After a few delicious mouthfuls, he’d appeared at the table and whisked my plate away!
‘What the …?’
‘That wasn’t carefully and lovingly cooked so that you could then barely taste it because you’re too busy looking at your phone, checking on work that you’re supposed to have left behind!’
‘I have left it behind!’ I said, making a swipe for my plate as Carrie approached the table, taking my plate from Ned and placing it back in front of me.
‘Thank you!’ I said.
‘Don’t look too smug,’ Carrie warned, pulling out a chair and lowering herself onto it. ‘I happen to agree with him. I just don’t like seeing good food go to waste. And you need to eat.’
I rolled my eyes as I took another mouthful. ‘Traitor.’
‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘Ned’s right. You’re supposed to have left all this behind. That was the whole point of you coming down here. To take a break. Reading about the markets, and checking emails, statistics and God knows whatever else it is that you do isn’t taking a break.’
‘Of course it is! I’m not in the office. I’m not answering emails.’
‘But you’re constantly logging in to see if there are any there to answer.’
I let out a sigh. ‘I think “constantly” is a bit strong.’
‘Fine. Regularly.’
I couldn’t argue with that. Even though I really, really wanted to.
‘Give me your phone,’ Ned said, suddenly.
‘What? No!’ I snatched it up and clutched it to me like I was protecting a small child.
The two sets of raised eyebrows I received in reaction confirmed my inkling that that probably wasn’t the healthiest of reactions.
‘I mean … I need my phone. I use it … for all sorts of things. I’m researching ideas for the house, and estate agents and stuff.’
They exchanged a look. ‘Fair enough. And actually I wouldn’t want you to be without a phone over there anyway, just in case.’
‘I’m not about to be uncontactable with the baby on the way either, so whatever you’re thinking isn’t going to work.’
‘Yes it is,’ Ned said with a tone of such self-assurance that I feared he might actually be right. ‘I’ll swap you. I just upgraded mine and the old one is just sitting here. It’s still a nice phone, but it’s not full of all your financial crap and email and messaging apps.’
‘That crap happens to be my job!’
‘Which you’re not supposed to be doing right now!’ His voice was low but his tone was steady and determined. It was a tone I recognised. It was the same one he’d used when he’d told my dad he was going to catering college, something that my father had never agreed with. Although at least he’d shown a flicker of interest in Ned’s choice, even if it was to disagree. All he’d ever said about me was that ‘Holly’s a bright girl. She’ll do well.’ And I had. Although that was no thanks to my father. Or perhaps it was. Perhaps if he hadn’t just turned in on himself after Mum died, had realised that Ned and I were lost too and that we still needed him, I might not have disappeared into my books and schoolwork quite so much.
The older and lonelier I got, especially once Ned went away to college, the more determined I was to do the very best I could. It was an escape plan. And it had worked. I’d got into Cambridge, graduated top of my class with a First and immediately been head-hunted by one of London’s most prestigious investment firms. They’d wanted me and that had been rather a novel feeling after so many years of feeling like my father barely noticed me. I didn’t hate him. But I’d been angry for a long time. He’d been ill. Destroyed by grief – but he’d never even tried to get help. It was as though Ned and I barely existed. If it hadn’t been for Gigi and Grandpa, I honestly don’t know what would have happened to us.
Ned had managed things better than I had. He hadn’t let the fear of not feeling like you were enough affect him. He’d believed in himself and he’d found Carrie and built a beautifully warm and welcoming life with her. A life full of laughter, and colour and fun, as well as hard work. I tried not to think too much about the contrast in our lives. I certainly had the hard work bit down but the rest …
‘So, what do you say?’
‘You want me to swap phones with you?’
‘Well, you take my old one, and this one goes in a locked drawer in our house.’
‘What if someone needs me? They wouldn’t have the number!’
Ned swung a glance at Carrie then back to me. ‘That’s rather the point.’
‘But …’
‘Who’s going to need you?’ Ned asked and I flinched. Automatically his hand went out and caught my wrist. ‘That came out wrong.’
I laughed it off. At least I tried to but I don’t think I convinced any of us. But acknowledging that was something else entirely.
‘Why don’t you try it?’ Carrie asked, taking my hand. ‘Let’s say for two weeks to start with?’
‘Two weeks?’ I squeaked. ‘Am I allowed to look at anything?’
‘Nope. You can get a paper in the village if you’re that bothered about general news but no Financial Times!’
I gripped my phone a little tighter and felt my heart hammering. Was that normal? Should I really be having this bad a reaction to someone just asking me not to check my work? But what if there was a crisis? What if Gerald really needed my advice on something? What if one of my biggest clients suddenly—
‘Holly? Holly!’
The glass was cool against my damp palm as my thoughts stopped swimming, along with the room.
‘Take
