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

‘Better to give them the whole lot – the company, Atlantic House, the Dorothy – while we’re still alive to see them enjoy it. If nothing else it would put an end to the tension between them.’

Henry gazed out of the window to the garden and the ocean beyond, saying nothing.

Dorothy tried again: ‘It’ll save any misunderstandings when we’re gone.’

He turned and looked at her with a heavy heart.

‘You mean Susan.’

Dorothy hesitated, then said, ‘Yes, I mean Susan.’

‘If she wanted anything from me, she would have found me long ago.’

‘Maybe she’s been abroad and doesn’t know what a success the company is?’

Henry smiled ruefully. ‘Darling, Carew Family Board Games is an international brand. She’d know.’

‘So she’ll also know that she could be entitled to a share … unless she’s dead?’ Dorothy brightened at the thought. It was one that always brought a glimmer of hope. ‘If we only had confirmation, that would solve all our problems.’

‘And how would we explain it to the girls?’

‘We’d find a way – times have changed, they’d soon get over it. Please, Henry. I need to know where I stand.’

‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Find out if Susan is alive. Maybe we can start by searching the Internet. Jem said he’d sorted out your iPad so we can get online again. I’ll do it, if you show me how.’

They got out the iPad and logged on to Google. Dorothy immediately tapped in SUSAN CAREW.

Up popped many Susan Carews. A dozen or so in America, some on Facebook, others on LinkedIn. There was no way of telling whether one of these many Susan and Sue and Susie Carews was the person they were looking for.

Dorothy was disappointed. ‘I thought you could find anyone on this thing.’

‘Let’s put it away, shall we? I was thinking of paying a visit to the jeweller’s in Trevay – I’d like you to help me choose something nice for Abi’s birthday.’

*

Francis was breathless. ‘How was that?’

Pru could barely speak. ‘Amazing.’

‘Good.’

‘Very good.’

‘No. I meant good as in I’m pleased it was all right.’

‘I am pleased.’

‘Good.’

‘Don’t start that again.’

Francis stepped out of bed feeling better than he’d felt for a long time. He was astonished at how the floodgates of no desire had lifted to reveal a dam of sexual energy. And he hadn’t thought of Belinda once.

‘Helloooo!’

Oh God. Talk of the devil. That was Belinda calling from the hall. The bloody woman never knocked. She just walked right in.

Francis met Pru’s wide eyes and they stayed perfectly still, listening for further sounds. They heard Greg saying something and then the sound of Belinda’s cork wedges squeaking towards the kitchen. Pru started to giggle.

‘What are you laughing at?’ said Francis, frowning.

‘Her. She definitely fancies you. Watch out while she’s around.’

‘Gosh, no, Pru. Never.’ Francis was blushing horribly. ‘I’d never do anything like that.’

Pru took his reaction at face value. ‘Well, of course you wouldn’t.’ She got out of bed and put her dressing gown on. ‘You haven’t got it in you.’

Francis was on the verge of defending himself but decided that no answer would be the best answer. ‘I think I’ll have a shower,’ he said, and disappeared into their bathroom.

Greg’s voice shouted up the stairs. ‘Coffee, anyone? Belinda’s here to talk “party”.’

Pru studied herself in her wardrobe mirror and saw a woman who needed to comb her hair and brush her teeth. A woman who had just had very satisfying sex. A woman who was going to go downstairs and flaunt her sexual satisfaction in the enemy’s face.

*

‘Hi, Belinda,’ Pru greeted her with a Cheshire cat grin.

Belinda was put on the back foot. She’d never seen Pru in any other guise than uptight businesswoman in designer holiday casual wear. Pru in satin robe and clearly no underwear was hard to adjust to.

‘Hi, Pru,’ she replied, unconsciously slipping a shirt button undone to reveal a little more freckled bosom.

Greg noticed immediately and hurried over with her mug of coffee, seizing the opportunity for his customary appraisal of her cleavage. ‘Belinda’s come to discuss party food with Francis,’ he said.

‘Has she?’ said Pru, raising an eyebrow and smirking. ‘How fabulously kind of you. He’ll be down in a moment. We had a … lie-in,’ she purred.

Belinda shook her curls and rattled her bangled wrists. ‘Really? I’m so full of energy I need very little sleep.’

‘Hmm,’ murmured Pru, psyching Belinda out. ‘How fascinating.’

Greg chewed nervously at a fingernail, realising that he was watching some kind of predatory female haka, the opening gambit in what could turn out to be a full-on catfight. ‘I’ll get Connie. So you girls can do whatever you girls do.’ He darted into the hall and they heard him go upstairs.

Moments later there was the sound of two pairs of running feet. The news that Pru and Belinda were about to do battle over Francis had Connie and Greg racing down the stairs in an unseemly scramble so as not to miss the sight of fur flying.

Much to their disappointment, the two women were sitting calmly at opposite ends of the kitchen table, discussing the weather. ‘I love getting a suntan, me,’ Belinda was saying.

Pru narrowed her eyes. ‘Yes, I noticed there was some sun damage to your neck.’