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

Dorothy tutted and continued on her way to the kitchen.

Henry looked at his two grandchildren with perceptive eyes. ‘So, what do you want? It’s not just to say hello, is it?’

Jem laughed. ‘No flies on you, Poppa.’

‘Never have been. Never will be, my boy. So what is it?’

‘Have you taken the boat out for a run yet this year?’

‘A couple of months ago. Got it serviced. Hasn’t been out since. Why?’

‘Can we take it out one day? Belinda and Emily want to have a ride.’

‘And where will you go?’

‘Just along to Trevay and then up the river for a picnic. I won’t go mad.’

Henry looked at Jem for a couple of moments, considering the request. ‘OK – as long as I can come too. You can be skipper though.’

‘Fantastic!’ Jem’s face split into a huge grin.

Henry continued: ‘How about we take your parents, too? There’s room for everyone.’

‘Ah,’ said Abi. ‘That was the other thing we wanted to talk to you about.’

Jem and Abi told Henry about the argument. ‘We don’t know what it was about, but the atmosphere today is awful.’

‘Hmm. And how are Greg and Francis?’

‘Dad’s got a red mark on his cheek to match the bruise he got when he knocked himself out the other day. Apparently Mum accidentally hit him when he tried to stop them arguing,’ said Jem.

Henry sat for a moment, deep in thought. ‘And you have no idea what this is all about?’

Both kids shook their heads.

‘I’ll have a word and see if I can’t get to the bottom of it.’ Henry sat forward in his chair. ‘Now bring that table a little closer – Granny’s here with the coffee.’

Dorothy poured the coffee from the cafetière and handed round the mugs. ‘Do you know what you want for your birthday?’ she asked Abi.

‘Yes. There’s something, I really, really want … but I don’t think I’ll be allowed to have it.’

Dorothy passed the plate of shortbread to Jem, bypassing Abi.

‘Oh yes? What’s that?’

‘A party on the beach. All my friends. Boys and girls. Barbecue. Some wine. Music. But Mum and Dad want to do the usual thing in the garden.’

Henry and Dorothy both chuckled. ‘I’m sure they do,’ said Henry. ‘Would you like me to work on them? No promises, mind.’

‘Would you?’ pleaded Abi. ‘I would love you for ever!’

Henry laughed again. ‘I’ll do my best.’ He picked up the plate of biscuits. ‘Here, Abi, have one of these.’

‘Thanks, Poppa.’

Jem and Abi left looking much happier than when they’d arrived.

Dorothy waved them off from the front door then rejoined her husband. ‘The trouble with you, Henry Carew, is that you are a soft touch.’

‘I can’t have my grandchildren made miserable. It’s her seventeenth birthday, for God’s sake.’ He winked at his wife. ‘Now then, give me that last clue.’

‘Fly into Portugal. Four letters. First letter F for—’

‘Faro.’

‘Well, it fits.’

14 (#ulink_1bba24c2-55d3-5897-a2df-d2954119c832)

Back at Atlantic House, sitting round the breakfast table were four, unwashed, sullen adults. They were waiting for Merlin and the return of hot water, to arrive. He was not answering his phone. Connie made an effort to be cheerful.

‘Well, at least we’ve got electricity!’

Greg was ostentatiously working at his computer, tapping noisily on the keys. He replied absently, ‘Hmmm?’

‘I said at least we’ve got electricity,’ repeated Connie with what she hoped was a relaxed smile.

Francis, who was writing out one of his endless shopping lists, picked up her tone and agreed. ‘Yes. We’re lucky, really.’

Pru, who was sitting as far away from Connie as possible, gave her sister and husband a scathing look before returning to her paper.

The silence lingered on until Francis cleared his throat. The rest looked up expectantly.

‘I have noticed that we need some more loo rolls. Any preference in colour?’ he asked.

Pru rattled her broadsheet pages and spoke very clearly. ‘No.’

Francis bent back to his list. ‘OK, I’ll get the white then.’

The silence returned. Only the scraping of Francis’s chair as he stood up to stock-take in the larder disturbed them.

This was how Henry found them when he knocked on the patio doors.

Pru leapt up before Connie and hurried to welcome him in. ‘Hi, Dad.’ She kissed him.

‘Good morning,’ he said sternly, surveying the four of them with a look that the girls remembered from childhood. All four felt a chill in their stomachs. They were in for a telling off.

‘Morning, Daddy,’ Connie said in a small voice.