A Family Holiday: A heartwarming summer romance for fans of Katie Fforde

A Family Holiday

BELLA OSBORNE

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HarperCollinsPublishers

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www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2016

Copyright © Bella Osborne 2016

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017

Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com

Cover design by Ellie Game

Bella Osborne asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book

is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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Ebook Edition © June 2016 ISBN: 9780008119492

Version 2017-07-13

PRAISE FOR BELLA OSBORNE

‘A well written and very intriguing tale that I really enjoyed’

Katie Fforde

‘A warm and engaging story with relatable characters who will worm their way into your heart’

Talli Roland

‘Loved it! Believable characters, a sweetly told, lovely story…a great read’

Jane Lovering

‘Romance, comedy, and mystery abound in this delightful British novel’

I Read That Book!

‘So beautiful and romantic’

Annie’s Book Corner

‘A well-written and charming tale’

Paris Baker’s Book Nook

‘I wasn’t expecting a debut novel to be this good’

The Bookish & The Romantic

‘Makes me feel like I should be reading it while wearing a tea dress, drinking posh coffee from a china cup and eating Victoria sandwich cake with a dainty little fork. It’s charming, adorable, amusing and all those sorts of words’

Escape Into Words

‘This book is perfect chick lit’

Gidget Girls Reading

For my amazingly supportive husband and daughter – I love you with all of my heart.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Bella Osborne

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Coming Soon From Bella Osborne

Also by Bella Osborne

Bella Osborne

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Millie had forgotten her knickers again. The grinning toddler swung her legs happily as she sat on the toilet at the solicitor’s office. With all the children still off school and having been let down at the last moment, Charlie had been forced to bring them with her to the meeting. This was far from ideal. She was their nanny; not a member of the family, just a paid employee whose job stability was now very unclear.

‘Millie, it’s important that you keep your skirt down. Keep your bottom covered up, okay?’ said Charlie as they washed and dried their hands.

‘Bottom,’ repeated Millie with a giggle. She gripped Charlie’s hand tightly as they left the toilets, something the three-year-old would have resisted a couple of months ago due to her desire to be independent, but things had changed and Millie now needed Charlie close to her.

In the waiting room sat the other three children: Ted, George and Eleanor. Ted, the eldest at fifteen, was studiously ignoring everything around him. George had had a recent growth spurt and looked older than his ten years, making the two-year gap between him and Eleanor appear to be a lot more.

Eleanor’s face looked thin and pale and her eyes were full of sadness. Charlie sat down next to her and gently patted her hand as Millie inelegantly climbed onto the seat next to her, clutching her beloved Winnie the Pooh toy and immediately revealing her bare bottom to the rest of the solicitor’s waiting clients.

George sniggered and tried to exchange smiles with his older brother but Ted was looking deeply serious as he stared at the floor. George’s smile disappeared and he too started to study the carpet.

Eventually a very young-looking man called them into his office. He met them all solemnly at the door, introduced himself as Jonathan Steeple, and shook Charlie’s hand. ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said and all Charlie could do was swallow hard and nod her response. They settled themselves into chairs as the solicitor squeezed behind a giant desk.

‘Normally I would read out the wills word for word but…’ he looked at the children all staring back at him. ‘It’s probably more appropriate to just focus on the key elements.’

‘Yes, I think that would be best, Mr Steeple,’ said Charlie.

‘Please call me Jonathan.’

A loud repetitive knock came at the door as it was simultaneously opened.

‘I’m so sorry, Mr Steeple, this is Miss Talbot, she’s…’ but the young receptionist could no longer be heard.

‘I’m Ruth Talbot, we had an appointment.’ A thin ordinary-looking woman had shut the door and was stood glaring at the solicitor, until she noticed Charlie and her glare immediately changed direction.

‘Hello Ruth. I’m Charlie. We met at the funeral.’ Charlie stood balancing Millie on her hip and belatedly offered a hand to shake. Charlie always felt awkward in serious situations and this was one of the worst. Ruth nodded and only now seemed to notice her nieces and nephews.

‘Edward, George… girls,’ she bobbed her head in what Charlie assumed was her best attempt at a greeting, before returning her stare to Charlie. ‘You’re the au pair.’

‘No, I’m the nanny,’ replied Charlie, sitting down. If anything was designed to annoy Charlie it was being demoted.

‘An unqualified one, I understand, which I think you’ll find makes you an au pair.’

It was hard but Charlie held her tongue. Now was not the time to start a fight.

Jonathan introduced himself again and pulled forward a chair for Ruth to sit down.

‘I’m sorry but this is a family matter, you shouldn’t be here.’ Ruth was pointing at Charlie. She was clearly not one for sugar-coating what she thought.

‘Your father asked me to come,’ Charlie gave a smug smile and turned away from Ruth.

‘But he’s in a nursing home…’

‘Yep, he calls every week. He’s seized up with arthritis, Ruth, but he still has all his marbles.’

‘Well, really…’ Ruth shook her head, but said no more.

Jonathan waited a moment and when nobody else objected he cleared his throat and proceeded to read through the highlights, if you could call them that, of Helen and Toby Cobley’s wills. Written shortly after they’d had Millie, the mirror wills appointed Felix Cobley and Ruth Talbot as joint guardians and trustees. The wills were very clear that the children should be kept together, despite Toby not being Ted’s natural father.

Ted was frowning as he took in the information. The sudden loss of his parents meant he had quickly become the adult he so longed to be.

‘We’re going to be looked after by Felix?’ asked Ted.

Eleanor blew her nose and cried quietly into a tissue as Charlie tried to comfort her with one arm and restrain a bored Millie with the other.

‘Who’s Felix?’ asked Charlie, having not heard him mentioned before.

‘Will you stop interrupting?’ said Ruth, followed by a series of tutting noises.

‘How rude!’ said Charlie, but Ted was already answering her question.

‘Felix is Dad’s loser of a brother who flipped out and ran off years ago,’ explained Ted, throwing himself back into the office chair and making it topple precariously. Jonathan opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Charlie.

‘Where does this leave us right now?’ she asked, more than a little confused by the information overload.

‘Well,’ cut in Ruth, although she was speaking directly to Jonathan. ‘As we have no contact details for Felix, that makes me effectively sole guardian.’

Jonathan gave her what looked like a very practised smile. ‘Not exactly. We have finally managed to track down Mr Cobley and we’re awaiting a response.’

‘Good luck with that,’ snorted Ted.

‘We don’t have to move house, do we?’ asked Eleanor, her eyes wide.

‘For now it’s best if everything stays as it is. We will pay all essential bills, including your salary,’ Jonathan nodded reassuringly at Charlie. ‘As long as you are happy to carry on in your role as primary care giver until a guardian is appointed. It is an unusual situation but Social Services will be able to help you through this.’ Charlie felt her stomach clench at the mention of Social Services and bile rose in her throat. Jonathan quickly passed her a pre-poured glass of water.

‘Thank you.’

Ruth was checking her watch and frowning. ‘Would you put all of this in writing and confirm what powers we have over the estate. ‘We’ being the family, obviously.’ Ruth gave a withering glance in Charlie’s direction as she stood up.

‘Only the executors, which is us, Sedgley, Steeple and Thomas, have the power to administer the estate until guardians and trustees are formally appointed. And the guardians’ appointment will be subject to Social Services’ approval.’

‘Do Aunt Ruth and Uncle Felix have to fight to the death?’ said George, leaning forward as Eleanor automatically recoiled.

‘How ridiculous!’ said Ruth. She turned to Jonathan, ‘I’ll be expecting you to send minutes of this meeting,’ she said, before addressing the children. ‘Take care of each other, and call me if you have any problems.’ This successfully made Charlie bristle but she didn’t react; instead she gave her sweetest smile as Ruth left.

Ted looked at Charlie, colour rising in his cheeks. ‘So basically, we’ve been left in their wills like an old tea set. Worst still, we’ve been left to two people, neither of whom has done anything for us in the past.’

‘Aunt Ruth sends book tokens at Christmas,’ added Eleanor, ever the voice of diplomacy, as George snorted his derision.

Ted was shaking his head. Charlie could feel the frustration emanating from him but before she could attempt to allay his fears he stood up abruptly.

‘This is bloody ridiculous!’ he bellowed before roughly pushing back his chair and stomping out of the room.

‘Bloody ridiculous!’ repeated Millie as she lifted her skirt and flashed at the solicitor. Charlie let a heavy sigh escape.

Looking back, Ted had been more than a challenge to care for; underneath his couldn’t-care-less exterior was a boy who longed to have more of his mother’s time. In Ted’s eyes Charlie’s arrival had further displaced his mother. At the start there were full-blown shouting matches between them, and Charlie had placed Ted at the top of her ‘Kipper List’.

The ‘Kipper List’ was a long list of people that Charlie would like to beat around the head with a wet kipper. Yes, a wet kipper was her weapon of choice. Over the years she had been offered various suggestions for how to manage her fiery temper and she had found this the most effective. The original suggestion had been a lot less colourful and nowhere near as effective, but Charlie’s variation seemed to work a treat. Charlie could happily visualise slapping the offending individual with a wet kipper and she felt it was a fitting approach to those who upset her, whilst unlikely to get her into any serious trouble. Charlie had only ever told one person about her ‘Kipper List’ method of anger management; a particularly uptight therapist who looked like she needed her own stress-release mechanism. However, when Charlie had explained the process the therapist had unhelpfully pointed out that kippers were not large and wet, as Charlie had described, and had provided a detailed account of the herring-to-kipper process, during which Charlie had visualised the therapist being battered senseless with a giant wet kipper whilst she herself stayed completely calm, which proved beyond doubt that the method truly worked.

Charlie made her apologies to the solicitor over the top of Millie’s repetition of ‘Bloody ridiculous!’ There were much simpler words she struggled to pronounce like ‘banana’ or ‘cereal’ but ‘bloody’ and ‘ridiculous’ evidently weren’t causing her any such issues.

As Charlie tried to herd the children through the waiting area as quickly as possible a tall blonde-haired man strode past them. He glanced at Charlie, but as he saw the miserable-looking children surrounding her he quickly turned his head away. Still, he wasn’t to know that she was only the nanny.

Chapter Two

Back at home Ted and Charlie stared into their respective mugs.

‘What do you know about Aunt Ruth and Uncle Felix?’ asked Charlie, trying to sound relaxed, but it still came out like the start of an inquisition. Ted sighed heavily.

‘You’ve met Aunt Ruthless,’ he said, and looked up as if that was explanation enough.

‘She seems… okay,’ said Charlie, sipping her drink and avoiding eye contact.

‘Okay?’ questioned Ted. ‘Yeah, if you were stuck next to her on a train for an hour, perhaps, but okay to take the place of our parents?’ Charlie pulled a face like someone discovering a maggot in an apple. Ted continued, ‘She would only look okay when compared to a rabid wolf and then it would be touch and go who to choose. In fact, I think wolves have quite a strong nurturing instinct.’ He gave a wry smile.

‘I agree she’s not the warmest of people, but she seemed, um, efficient.’

‘Charlie, I am not having Aunt Ruthless move in here so she can bully all of us and use the trust fund to shore up her failing company.’

‘She’s not that bad and don’t call her Ruthless or Millie will pick it up and…’

Ted grinned over his coffee mug. Charlie shook her head in mock despondency. They sat in silence again, the only sound was of muffled footsteps upstairs as Fleur played with the other children. Fleur was Charlie’s oldest friend and should have been baby-sitting that morning so Charlie could have gone to the solicitor’s alone, but something had come up and Fleur hadn’t made it in time. Better late than never, thought Charlie.

The sound of frantic high-speed paws almost tumbling down the stairs towards them made them both turn to see the arrival of Wriggly. He was a brown-and-white Llasa Apso puppy with an amazing pedigree birth line and an even longer pedigree name that was no good for day-to-day use. After much debate and a secret vote, they had finally settled on the name Mr Wriggly. Charlie still felt that it had some inappropriate overtones, but she’d been outvoted. Thankfully it had soon been shortened to Wriggly. Today Wriggly was wearing a Star Wars Ewok costume and was closely followed by Princess Leia, a storm trooper and a mini version of Darth Vader.

‘George, Wriggly will overheat in that outfit. Take it off, please,’ asked Charlie as the storm trooper removed his mask.

‘But we’re being chased by a Cyberman!’ said Eleanor, adjusting her Princess Leia Chelsea-bun-style hairband.

‘Shhhhh,’ said Darth Vader. Not having seen the films, this was Millie’s interpretation of the Darth Vader breathing noise. George had given up trying to teach her how to do it properly.

‘Cyberman?’ queried Ted and he glanced at Charlie with raised eyebrows.

An odd-looking Cyberman walked awkwardly down the stairs like an Egyptian mummy from a black-and-white film. The key differences being the swathes of auburn hair bouncing behind it and the patent high-heeled shoes. George and Eleanor screamed and ran for the garden.

‘Shhhhh,’ said Darth Vader before giggling and following the others.

‘Fleur, you are useless when it comes to sci-fi,’ said Charlie.

The Cyberman spun in her direction, removed the mask and studied it. ‘Is this not Star Wars?’

Charlie shook her head, ‘Dr Who.’

‘Bugger,’ said Fleur as she flopped onto a barstool.

‘Thanks for baby-sitting, Fleur. They love playing with you.’

‘It’s the least I can do after messing up this morning. Sorry. How are things?’

‘Not great, but we’re managing,’ said Charlie, exchanging grimaces with Ted.

‘I think you’re all amazing. I’d be a mess if it were me. Ma and Pa send their love and Pa says thanks for keeping me busy. He says if I mention the wedding at home once more he’s moving into the stables.’ She huffed. ‘You’d think I’d turned into some sort of Bridezilla.’

Charlie and Ted exchanged looks and sipped their drinks in unison.

‘What? I can’t help being excited, it’s not long now. Eeeek!’ squealed Fleur. Ted winced.

The back doors opened and the compact version of the Star Wars cast came thundering back in. ‘George! Remove the Ewok costume!’ said Charlie with authority. ‘Go on, all of you back upstairs, I’ll call you when dinner is ready,’ and Charlie dismissed them with a wave of her hand. George undid the Velcro on Wriggly’s costume, the little dog shook himself free and chased up the stairs after Eleanor, closely followed by the storm trooper and unconvincing Cyberman.

‘Shhhhh,’ said Darth Vader in passing. The kitchen was calm again.

‘Uncle Felix, what do we know about him?’ Charlie didn’t like to admit that she hadn’t known that Toby even had a brother.

‘There was some family upset and he did a runner some years ago…’ Ted paused. ‘It doesn’t matter, though, does it really? Mum and Dad are dead and nobody else is going to love us like they did.’

The doorbell rang and both Charlie and Ted jumped. Piccadilly Circus was as calm and serene as a spa compared to their house. Charlie slid off the barstool. ‘I’ll go,’ she said, as she downed the last of her coffee and tried to push her own grief to the back of her mind. The children were coping incredibly well now; they were quite matter-of-fact at times. The funeral had been the worst experience of her life as she had tried to keep things together and let them all deal with it in their own way. The last thing she wanted was for them to bottle this up, as she knew from her own experience that repressing emotions would never end well.

Charlie opened the front door and surveyed the uncomfortable-looking man fidgeting on the doorstep. His striking features looked familiar. A baseball cap covered his hair but wisps of blonde were sticking out at odd angles. He was wearing a new-looking jacket and ill-fitting jeans and his hands were thrust deep into his pockets, making the jeans sag even more.

‘Hi,’ he said at last. His accent was British with a hint of something difficult to identify.

‘Hi,’ said Charlie, feeling her cheeks rise into an involuntary smile.

‘Are you the nanny?’

‘Yes, I’m Charlie French.’ The attractive stranger intrigued her.

‘I’m Felix. Felix Cobley.’

Charlie’s smile evaporated in a haze of confusion. Was this some sort of hostile takeover?

‘What’s going on?’ she said, folding her arms tight as if holding down the anger within her.

‘Oh,’ said Felix, looking awkward. ‘I thought the solicitor had explained?’

‘Err, no!’ In her mind Charlie matched Felix to the tall man she’d passed in the solicitor’s waiting room.

‘Can I come in?’ asked Felix with a shudder. What was wrong with him? It was summer, for goodness sake!

‘I think there’s lots to discuss before we spring a long-lost relative on the children.’ Especially one with a record for running off, she thought.

‘Look, I can come back later,’ suggested Felix with a shrug.

‘Fine by me,’ said Charlie quickly.

‘But I thought it might be best the sooner we all talked. Seriously, can I come inside please?’

‘No,’ said Charlie, ‘not until I know what you’re planning to say to them. It’s me who’ll have to deal with the fallout!’ She tightened her folded arms.

‘There are no definite plans as yet, that’s why I thought a chat might be a good idea.’

Charlie heard a faint noise coming from the stairs and she knew one of the children was listening, which in reality meant that they would all know about Uncle Felix within the next few moments anyway. Charlie took a slow, deep breath and tried to calm herself. She needed to have her wits about her.

‘Okay, let’s get this over with.’ She stood back and ushered an apologetic-looking Felix into the hall and through to the living room.

‘Guys, can you come down, please,’ she called and immediately George appeared, closely followed by Eleanor, who was carrying Wriggly. So that was who was listening. George was eager to get into the living room and take a look at his uncle and Eleanor followed behind with her pale face buried in Wriggly’s coat. He was living up to his name and she was struggling to keep hold of him.