‘How are you doing?’ I ask, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. ‘All set for tomorrow?’
Felix sighs, dropping his hand from his eyes. ‘I suppose so. Mum seems to have everything under control. You know how she is.’
I don’t say anything. I do know how she is, this woman who will one day be my mother-in-law. Fiona is… difficult. Difficult to get on with, difficult to please, difficult to like. I breathed a sigh of relief when the annexe was finally finished and we could move out of Felix’s bedroom and into our own space. I know how lucky we are, living rent-free in a purpose-built annexe on his parents’ land, but I had no idea what I was signing up for when I moved in almost four years ago.
‘I’m finished here,’ I say instead, turning to step back into the office to grab my bag. The sun is setting now, the sea beyond the window tinted pink and gold. I set Leo down on the big desk in reception, giving him a packet of dried raisins to nibble on, and stand for a moment, my eyes closed, trying to calm my breathing as I remember Richard. Felix’s father gave me a slightly warmer welcome than Fiona when they found out I was pregnant. He let me move in, gave me a job, and even opened a trust fund for Leo. I’ve been here ever since, working with my fiancé and my father-in-law, living with my mother-in-law. Never out of reach of any of them.
Until now, I realise with a jolt, my eyes snapping open to find Felix picking Leo up off the desk. Three weeks ago, on a stormy November night, Richard took a corner too fast and drove his car off the road, smashing into a tree and flipping over. Apparently, he’d been three times over the limit and had died on impact.
I follow Felix out of the office, turning off the lights and locking the front door behind me. We walk past the shops, towards the Wetherspoons where Felix has parked the car. He took Leo to the beach today, despite the chill in the air, and had lunch with his brother, who is now leaning against the car as we approach. Neither of them have been back to work since Richard died, though as the boss’s sons, and now the bosses themselves, I suppose they don’t have to worry about not getting paid. Meanwhile, I’ve kept the office ticking over, trying to manage Richard’s clients while the rest of the family grieves. It’s the least I can do, after all.
‘Hello, little lion.’ Tobias grins, reaching out to ruffle Leo’s wild curls.
‘Uncle Toby!’ Leo squeals, wriggling as Felix puts him down, and running towards his uncle as if he hasn’t seen him in years. My son is dark-skinned like me, his dirty blonde curls almost the exact same as mine, though my hair is straightened and smoothed when I’m in the office. There is little of his father in him, I realise with a jolt. He is all me. Felix and Toby are a mixture of their parents. Their blue eyes are from Richard, and their aquiline noses from Fiona. I remember the first time I met her, the obligatory meet-the-parents Sunday lunch after Felix and I had been together for six months. I was already three months pregnant, after a drunken ‘just this once’, and he was going to announce it at lunch. I overheard her talking to Felix in the kitchen, her words just audible above the potatoes boiling on the hob.
‘Is she… Indian?’ she asked her son as I peered through a gap in the door. Her short blonde hair was expertly styled, her nails painted a light shade of coral, with lipstick to match. Her natural, I-spent-three-hours-to-look-like-I-just-rolled-out-of-bed look. I know she immediately thought I was too much; still thinks I am too much, actually. And yet, I am not enough in so many aspects. Not good enough for her son, not good enough to live in her house or to work for her husband. Not good enough to be a mother to her grandchild.
‘No, Mum.’ Felix sighed, rolling his eyes at the back of his mum’s head. I smiled, warmed by the way he was standing up for me. ‘Her dad was a Traveller, you know.’
‘A Gypsy?’ Fiona stared at Felix in horror, spitting the word out as if it had a bad taste, and I had to creep away then, shame burning my cheeks.
My dad is also a murderer, I thought as I locked myself in the downstairs toilet, his green eyes staring back at me from the mirror. Imagine if I told you that.
In the back of the car, Leo’s head resting on my shoulder, Toby clears his throat before speaking to his brother. ‘Skye is coming over on the ferry today,’ he says as Felix drives out of the car park. He glances back and smiles at the sleeping Leo beside me. ‘I haven’t seen her in years.’
‘I can barely remember what she looks like.’ Felix sniffs, turning left without indicating.
Toby rolls his eyes. ‘You follow her on Instagram, don’t you?’ Felix doesn’t answer, his lips pursed in irritation. Toby is like a puppy, the younger brother who always gets away with being slightly naughty. A few pranks, some good-natured ribbing, that sort of thing. I like Toby, probably more than I like Felix if I’m completely honest. He accepted me as his new sister immediately, opened his then-teenaged arms and gave me a wedgie, and I knew we would get along.
Leo loves him too, the uncle who is always up for a kick around in the back garden or to play dress-up while his father sits on the sofa with a glass of whisky, trying to emulate his father. Felix, the elder son, the heir to the Asquith throne, such as it is. I can almost see the weight of it pressing down on his shoulders as he drives us home, a muscle twitching in his neck. The stress of taking on the family business, of living up to Richard’s expectations, is taking its toll, and tomorrow is the day we will say goodbye to him, the patriarch of the family. I wonder if, beneath it all, Felix feels relieved.
‘She’s not staying with us,’ Felix says, and Toby looks up in surprise. ‘Mum wouldn’t have her in the house. I don’t want her there either, come to think of it.’
‘Where is she staying then?’ I ask, reaching out and patting Toby’s hand, a look passing between us. It’s a look that says don’t rise to it. I’m highly skilled at managing Felix, just as I was at managing Richard. Until the end.
Felix shrugs. ‘Some Airbnb nearby.’
‘That’ll be nice. Some privacy,’ I say, smiling. ‘I can’t wait to meet her.’
I see Felix’s fingers tighten on the wheel, and Toby’s face brightens again.
‘I remember one time, I can’t remember how old I was, maybe eight? It was before she moved to France. She came here, do you remember?’ Felix ignores the question, and Toby rolls his eyes again. ‘Anyway, I remember she had this long, red hair, it came down to her waist, and it was super curly. Like Leo’s, actually.’ He nods towards my son. ‘We were on the beach, and after asking at least two hundred times, she finally let me braid it.’ His gaze is unfocused as he tries to bring the memory back. ‘She had this lyrical voice, a soft Scottish accent, and she sang to me while I played with her hair.’
‘What’s your point?’ Felix snaps, and Toby frowns.
‘There is no point,’ he mutters. ‘Other than, well, she’s our sister.’
Felix scoffs. ‘She’s no sister of mine.’
The car goes quiet, and I remember the letter stuffed into my back pocket. The letter that my brother will have encouraged my father to write, addressed to Lexi Hearn, daughter of Leonora Forrest and Joseph Hearn. But that’s not me anymore. That’s not who I am.