Page 59 of A Forever Home at Honey Bee Croft

‘I’m okay. I don’t suppose… Is there any way you didn’t hear what my brother said?’ It was obvious from his pained expression that he knew what the answer was going to be.

I sat down on the toilet lid. ‘Sorry. I was tucked round a corner, hoping you’d argue and leave without ever knowing I was there.’

‘I wish you hadn’t heard that. You must think I’m awful.’

‘You? Quite the opposite. I’m in awe of how calm you were.’

‘I didn’t feel very calm. I felt completely out of my depth. Said all the wrong things, did all the wrong things. Story of my life at the moment.’

‘When someone’s angry and hurt like your brother clearly is, I don’t think there are anyrightthings to say and do. It sounded to me as though he’s been bottling some things up and the drink gave him the courage to lash out at the person he cares about the most.’

‘It didn’t feel much like he cared when that bottle came hurtling towards me.’ He took a deep, shaky breath. ‘Chez is fourteen and a half years younger than me. With a big age gaplike that and no other siblings, I’d say it’s pretty impossible not to step into a caring role. I was his babysitter, the one who helped him with his homework, the one who drove him to after-school clubs and friends’ houses. When our parents moved abroad three years ago he lived with me for a while and, when he moved out, I looked out for him. I was really conscious of not trying to be the parent and letting him live his life the way he wanted but it seems I messed up. Rubbish brother and pathetic attempt at parenting.’

‘That’s not true! I’ve seen you with your daughter and you’re clearly an amazing dad to her which is how it should be because youareher dad. What I saw and heard from you on the terrace was a brother trying to be a brother. I think Chez rejected that because what he really needs right nowisa parent and it’s easier to lash out at you than go to your parents and admit that he might officially be a grown-up but he needs his mum and dad.’

Aware that my speech had become a little impassioned, I lowered my voice, cringing. ‘Apologies if I overstepped just now. I don’t know your parents or your brother and I’ve got no right to make an assessment based on what happened on the terrace.’

‘You’re sure you’re not a psychologist?’ he asked, giving me a weak smile. ‘Because I think you might have summed it up perfectly.’

‘Definitely an accountant. Good with numbers, not so good with people.’

‘You seem pretty good with people to me.’

We’d both leaned in closer and our faces weren’t far apart and that’s when I noticed the dark red spots.

‘You’ve got spatters of wine on your face.’

I wrung out a cloth and cupped his face as I gently dabbed the wine away. Our faces were so close and all I could think about was how easy it would be to kiss him. His expression wasdreamy, as though he was thinking the same, but suddenly he pulled back and stood up.

‘Imogen! I’ve been gone ages. I’d better check she’s okay.’

He looked in the mirror above the sink and raked his fingers through his hair before releasing a huge sigh, shoulders slumping.

‘I’ve got wine on my shirt.’ He glanced down and groaned. ‘And my trousers are ruined.’

I’d been so concerned about the cut on his hand that I hadn’t even looked at his trousers but they were covered in red wine and spots of blood.

‘Why don’t you get changed into something else before you look for Imogen? You wouldn’t want her to think it’s all blood on your trousers. I’ll take your clothes to housekeeping. They should be able to clean them for you.’

Joel thanked me and we headed down one flight to his bedroom. His was a suite with a sofa and a couple of armchairs by the window so I perched on the edge of a chair while he changed in the bathroom.

I’d really liked how he looked in his wedding attire but, when he emerged from the bathroom a little later in his jeans and a pale blue shirt, that look did it for me too.

He glanced down at the neatly folded stained clothes in his hands with a frown. ‘It doesn’t feel right giving you my laundry to do, especially when you’ve already got a stain out of my daughter’s dress.’

‘Poppy’s the name, stain removal’s the game,’ I quipped, immediately wishing I hadn’t blurted out something so stupid, but it made Joel laugh and it was good to hear that after what he’d been through this evening.

‘What are you going to do about your brother?’ I asked as we made our way back along the corridor.

‘I’ll have to tell my parents what kicked off because I’ve no idea how to handle it from here. Chez’ll go mad with me for involving them but, as he already claims he hates me, it can hardly make things worse. Right now, Imogen’s my top priority. I’ll find my parents later.’

It was clear to me that he loved his brother and was really worried about him. It must be hard to accept that he was out of his depth and needed reinforcements. He just kept going up in my estimation all the time. He was going through a crisis but his daughter – who had nothing to do with it – was at the forefront of his mind as his number one priority. What a kind and sensitive man Joel was.

‘I can’t thank you enough for all your help,’ he said when we arrived in the lobby. ‘Can I buy you a drink later – if there’s such a thing when it’s a free bar?’

I nodded. ‘You can find me on the terrace.’

His eyes widened.

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