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

‘That’s very cool,’ said Greg. ‘What a nice little boat.’

‘And a beautiful day to take it out,’ said Francis.

Connie watched her husband with pursed lips. ‘No. You are not having a boat.’

‘Not for me! A birthday present for Abi. Give her some adventure without the dangers of the road. It’ll be fun for us all.’

*

On the journey home from Polperro, Greg and Connie bickered over the proposed new boat.

‘What would she do with a boat?’ Connie argued.

‘She’d use it for fun and water skiing with her friends.’

‘She doesn’t water ski.’

‘Precisely. Now she can learn.’

‘She’s got the Dorothy if she wants a boat.’

‘You know what Henry’s like about that thing. He won’t let anyone take it out without him. She needs some freedom.’

‘But I don’t want her to have that sort of freedom.’

On and on they went while, in the back, Francis read his Kindle and Pru gently snored.

*

‘Helloooo!’ Belinda was bellowing from the front door.

‘In the kitchen,’ called Connie, noticing Francis scuttle out to the garden.

Belinda pushed her way into the room with armfuls of bags. Her bracelets were tight on her podgy wrists, the buttons on her shirt mostly undone, revealing her tanned bosom and a pink bra. Her tiny mini skirt was riding up over freckled thighs.

‘Where’s Francis? I have some ideas on the party food.’

Catching sight of Francis scampering across the lawn towards the beach gate, Connie summoned him in a loud voice: ‘Francis! Belinda is here and would like to speak to you.’

He stopped running and turned towards the house, knowing when he was defeated.

‘Look at all this lovely stuff Belinda has bought for the party, Francis!’

He could see a lot of shimmering net fabric and boxes of fairy lights bursting out of the carrier bags Belinda was dumping on the kitchen table.

Plucking some of the netting out of the bag, she walked towards Francis and wrapped it around his shoulders. ‘You’d make a wonderful sea nymph, Frankie.’

He tried to smile and shrug the fabric off himself at the same time, but he wasn’t quick enough.

‘Uh-uh. Stay there. Let me find …’ She dug in the bag again. ‘Ah, here we are!’ She pulled out a necklace made of winkle shells and put it round his neck. ‘There we are! Give us a kiss.’

‘Francis, what are you doing?’ Pru had come in from the hallway.

Belinda threw her arms round Francis’s neck and chanted, ‘I am under the spell of the mighty sea god, Frankie. There is nothing I can do …’ And she slid down Francis’s thighs and draped herself about his knees.

Connie hooted with laughter.

Pru felt that peculiar draught catch her heart again. Noticing the change in her expression, Francis quickly took off the shells and stepped over the prostrate Belinda towards his wife. ‘Pru, Belinda is just showing us some of the stuff she got for Abi’s party.’

Belinda stood up.

‘I’ve decided on a sea-fairy theme. Green, blue and pink. Wait till you see the lights and candles and costumes I’ve bought!’

‘Abi’s not keen on pink,’ Connie ventured.

‘Not keen on pink!’ Belinda shook her head disbelievingly. ‘Every girl loves pink. Get me a cold drink would you, Con? It’s so hot. Is Abi in?’

Connie was at the fridge, pouring a beaker of juice. She put it into Belinda’s outstretched hand.

‘Oh, that’s better. Thank you.’

‘Abi’s not home yet. I’m expecting her around six-ish.’

‘Right, I’ll wait for her. What’s for tea? I’ll help you make it. You don’t mind me and Emily joining you, do you?’

Connie had no say in the matter. Before she knew it, Belinda was knocking up a bolognese sauce and leaving a trail of saucepans for Connie to wash up.

*

‘Belinda! I love it! It’s going to look amazing. Isn’t she clever, Mum?’ Abi had come in from work more animated than Connie had seen her in ages. All the family were watching as Belinda pulled out one extraordinary thing after another.

‘Yes,’ said Connie, wanly, trying to clear the table and lay it up for eight. ‘So clever. I didn’t think you liked pink.’

‘Pppffff! Of course I like pink! Who doesn’t! Honestly, Mum, where did you get that idea from!’

‘Oh, you know your mother,’ said Greg, standing over Belinda and topping up her glass while trying to get a good gander down her cleavage. ‘She’s very good at getting the wrong end of the stick.’

‘I am not,’ huffed Connie.

‘Yes, you are,’ chorused Abi, Greg and Pru.

Connie felt crushed. She had to dig the nails of her right hand into the palm of her left to stop herself from crying.

‘Can I help you dish up, Con?’ asked Francis kindly.

Eventually everybody was seated and munching their supper.

‘This spaghetti bolognese is delicious,’ said Francis, smiling at Belinda.