Fern Britton 3-Book Collection: The Holiday Home, A Seaside Affair, A Good Catch

Connie shook her head a couple of times. ‘Hang on. You think you’re getting the house and The Bungalow, outright, while Greg runs the company yet doesn’t own it?’

‘Well, the shareholders own it, of course. But I’m sure Daddy will hand his shares over to Greg at some stage, so you’ll be set up.’

‘Set up?’

‘Yes. Comfortably off, with a Cornish bungalow that you can holiday in at any time.’

‘No, no. Not this time, Pru. You always want what’s mine, but you are not taking Atlantic House from me.’

Pru sat back in her chair and looked at her sister contemptuously. ‘I have two words to say to you, Connie. Grow. Up.’

Connie raised her voice, causing other diners to turn and stare. ‘Oh, not this again! Grow up? Let me remind you, you were the childish one, always taking the best of everything. Always wanting whatever I had. The blue bedroom, for instance.’

‘Yes. And you, Miss Bloody Self-righteous, you’re not so squeaky clean yourself, are you? We all know what you’re capable of when “poor baby sis” can’t get what she wants,’ spat Pru.

‘Oh! Now who needs to grow up! We were barely more than kids – I did you a favour!’

‘A favour? How dare you!’

‘I’ll tell you one thing, you are not having Atlantic House, I shall make damn sure of that. And if you think I’m going to let Daddy spend good money putting in new curtains and getting the old house up to scratch for you to enjoy, you have another think coming.’

*

The journey home was frosty, to say the least. Both women were on the edge of a precipice where their relationship was concerned. Neither of them wanted to acknowledge that the appearance of Merlin might have had something to do with it.

As soon as they got back to the house, Connie went in search of Greg. She found him playing with his bloody emails again. He hurriedly put the laptop lid down and smiled innocently.

‘Darling! Cup of tea? How was Truro?’

Connie ran into his arms and started to sob.

‘I love this house.’ She rubbed her dripping nose on Greg’s shoulder and turned her face towards his. ‘Pru can’t take it away from me.’

Nonplussed, Greg kissed her nose and reassured her. ‘Course she’s not going to take this house from you. In fact, do you want the good news, or the good news?’

She stopped crying and held his hand tight. ‘The good news, please.’

He smiled. ‘I’ve found a plumber. And he’s here right now, looking at the boiler.’

Connie became demented, shouting, ‘Stop him, stop him!’ She ran into the hall and on to the stairs. ‘We are not doing any repairs until we’ve sorted out who is going to get this house.’

Greg ran after her and pulled her back. ‘It’s too late.’

A Cornish voice sounded from the top of the stairs: ‘I’ve done a temporary job on the thermostat. I’ll be back tomorrow to put the new parts in and then I’ll make a start on the rest of the house.’

A familiar, sunburnt face leaned over the banisters. ‘Hello, Connie. I’m working as a plumber now. Greg and I have been having a good old chat about the old days.’

Connie watched aghast as Merlin descended the stairs.

Greg was beaming. ‘Top man, Merlin.’

‘My pleasure, G.’ Merlin took his phone from his pocket and checked the time. ‘Is that the time? Beer o’clock already. Fancy a pint?’

Greg’s face lit up with the offer and he picked up his keys from the hall table. ‘Great idea. Where are we going?’

‘Bar up the road – the Dog House.’

Connie stood aghast for a moment then, gathering her senses, she stepped forward. ‘If you go, you’ll be in the bloody dog house, Greg. I’m warning you.’

Merlin laughed. ‘Still the little firecracker, eh! Come on, Greg. See you later, Connie.’

*

It was past eleven and supper had long since been eaten and washed up when Greg finally arrived home. Connie, waiting for him in the kitchen, could smell the beer on his breath as soon as he walked into the room.

‘Nice chap,’ said Greg. ‘Very fond of you, Connie.’

Connie froze. ‘What did he say?’

‘That you and Pru and he had had a terrific summer when you were all young, and that I was a lucky bloke to have you.’ He put his arm round Connie. ‘Mind you, he clearly had a soft spot for Pru too. From what he was saying she was a bit of a goer in her time.’

Connie pushed her chair back noisily and crossed her arms and legs. ‘Really? Well that’s something he’d know all about.’

‘Hey hey, Con. You weren’t jealous of old Pru and Merlin, were you? Did he fancy her more than you?’ Greg walked towards her and knelt in front of her. He steadied himself on her knees. ‘My poor little Connie.’ He put his finger to his lips and blew a beery ‘Sshh’ through his teeth. ‘Better not tell old Francis, eh?’ He tapped the side of his nose and heaved himself back on to his feet. ‘I think it’s time to go up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire. Come on, my poor old girl. At least I fancy you.’

Connie gave Greg a mean look and without saying a word marched upstairs to the blue room. On reaching the sanctuary of her bedroom, she slammed the door and fell on the bed sobbing.

13 (#ulink_a964d98d-37ad-5b42-83ad-1ffe34034be2)

Connie woke the following morning to the sound of Greg’s alcohol-induced snoring and the pounding of footsteps on the landing.

Doing up her dressing gown, she opened her bedroom door to find Francis tearing down the stairs two at a time.

‘What’s happened?’ she asked.

Francis had already arrived in the hall, where he was barged out of the way by a furious Pru, who was marching towards the telephone. Picking up the receiver she tapped in a number from a business card in her hand.

She waited while it was answered. ‘Bloody answer phone,’ she hissed, then screeched into the receiver: ‘Merlin, this is Pru Meake at Atlantic House. The kitchen is under six inches of water. If you don’t get here within the next half-hour I am going to sue the arse off you. DO YOU HEAR!’ And she slammed the phone down.

*

Merlin, blissfully unaware of the chaos he’d left behind the night before, was driving along the lane towards Atlantic House and congratulating himself on getting a job at last. Greg was a good lad. They’d had a laugh together. Might take him out for another pint or two, or maybe fishing. It had been fun winding him up about Connie and Pru. One thing was for sure, that family had money and he could screw a sizeable chunk of it out of them.

He’d only recently returned to Cornwall after a spell in Wormwood Scrubs. Three years for a bit of dealing. He’d been properly stitched up. Nevertheless, while being detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure he’d served an apprenticeship in plumbing. As soon as he was released, he’d gone to North Devon to work with an old mate. Everything had been going well, until he’d got a bit too friendly with the old mate’s missus. So, a couple of weeks ago, he’d made tracks back to his old stomping ground, Treviscum Bay. What a stroke of luck that he’d bumped into the Carew girls. Was it really twenty-one summers ago that he’d managed to seduce her? She had been a lovely little maid. Lovely body, but lacking her sister’s fiery passion. He’d soon warmed her up though, when he got her to the fuggee hole. Nice spot that. Warm, dry, romantic and hidden from prying eyes and ears. He wondered whether he could still find it.

*

As he turned his battered van into the drive of Atlantic House he noticed a woman with rosy cheeks, twinkly eyes and golden curly hair worn in a careless up do hanging her washing out in the garden of Dairy Cottage. The thing that really captured his attention was that she was topless. He gave her a long look and pulled the handbrake on stiffly. At the sound she looked up and with no embarrassment smiled. He killed the engine and nonchalantly stepped out on to the gravel. ‘Mornin’.’ He nodded his head and then ignored her as he opened the creaky back doors of his van. He made sure his bottom looked taut and muscular as he reached inside, and when he came out again, slowly peeled off his tight T-shirt to reveal tanned pecs and abs.