Page 81 of A Forever Home at Honey Bee Croft

‘All fair points. And what would you want or need from Joel as your brother?’

‘I’d want him to listen, to be there for me, to get me, not to get arsey or impatient.’

Dad nodded. ‘What’s different about those two lists?’

I looked towards Dad with admiration. Well played that man.

‘Chez?’ he prompted.

‘Nowt, I guess,’ Chez muttered.

‘Exactly. What I’m hearing is that you’ve lashed out at your brother for being exactly what you wanted and needed him to be – a caring brother displaying exactly the same behaviours a caring parent would demonstrate.’

‘But he’s always having a go at me about being messy.’

‘It’shishouse,’ Mum said, ‘so he has every right to be annoyed. It’s about showing respect for the person putting a roof over your head, especially when they have no obligation to do it.’

Chez sipped on his drink, seemingly mulling this over.

‘He had a go at me for eating all his food,’ he said eventually.

‘Did you pay for any of the food?’ Dad asked.

‘No.’

‘Did you ask him if it was okay to eat it?’

‘No.’

‘Then please explain what makes you think you’re the one who’s right to be angry in this situation.’

God, Dad was good.

Chez shrugged again. ‘I don’t have the right.’

Over the next couple of hours, we explored everything that had been building up inside Chez until he finally admitted thathe was angry with them for abandoning him when he needed them. Mum cried at that point, and I was upset for her but I was glad Chez had finally admitted it. I’d long suspected it and had even questioned him but he’d told meDon’t be so pathetic – I’m not a kid who needs Mummy and Daddy to look after me and tuck me in at night.

We paused the conversation while we went out for lunch in a nearby café, making small talk. There was so much I wanted to tell my parents about my job and Imogen and Poppy, but I didn’t want to take the attention away from Chez and onto me. Towards the end of lunch, the subject of going to Portugal arose again and I threw in my own encouragement for him to take a break, but he remained adamant he wasn’t going. His mission was to get a job and win Lorna back and I wondered if the run this morning was something to do with that. He’d told me before that she’d joked about him developing a beer belly prematurely and that the closest thing he was ever going to get to a six-pack was a trip to the fridge.

After lunch, Chez said he needed some space. I personally thought there was more to discuss but, in his shoes, I’d have wanted a timeout so we wished him a relaxing afternoon and said we’d see him for tea. He messaged a few hours later to say he needed longer to clear his head and wouldn’t be joining us for tea. It was disappointing and it felt like a cop-out, but we’d made a good start and not having Chez around gave me a chance to update Mum and Dad on everything that was going on with me.

We’d settled the bill after our pub tea that evening and were heading back to the B&B when my phone rang.

‘It’s Harry,’ I said, surprised to see his number on the screen.

‘Hi, Joel,’ he said when I answered. ‘Can you come to my flat? Chez is here and he’s in a right state. I don’t think he’s drunk, but he’s not making any sense. I don’t know what to do.’

My stomach lurched. ‘Stay with him and try to calm him down. I’ll be there really soon.’

We were only a few minutes from the B&B, so we walked Mum back then Dad and I power-walked across the town centre to Harry’s flat. I wanted to tell Dad not to worry but how could I reassure him when I was worried about my brother? If only he’d come out for tea with us as planned!

A woman answered the door who I presumed was Deana. After everything I’d heard about her from Chez, I’d expected her to look hard as nails but she was pretty and petite and immediately made me think of a nursery school teacher.

‘Thank God you’re here,’ she said, her tone anxious. ‘He’s in the lounge. We don’t understand what he’s saying. We’re so worried.’

Chez was sitting in the middle of the lounge floor, arms wrapped round his crossed legs, head down, rocking back and forth and muttering.

‘Chester?’ Dad crouched beside him. ‘Chester? It’s Dad. Can you hear me?’

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