Page 36 of Broken Beyond Repair
Ouch, the kid really knew how to kick his mum metaphorically.
Beatrice remained quiet for the rest of the meal, leaving Sydney and Alex to discuss his favourite subjects at school and his passion for hockey and cooking. He revealed — much to Beatrice’s further disgust — that when he finished school, he intended on going to culinary school in Paris. He was twitching with excitement as he announced he’d set up a cooking club at school, which was now catering some of the school events.
Sydney made sure to encourage and congratulate him enough to cover for the lack of enthusiasm from his mum. She could see why Beatrice had asked her to join them — so she could hold the conversation with Alex and not her. Did the woman not know how to talk to her own son?
Once their plates were empty, Sydney cleared them and began packing the dishwasher as Beatrice and Alex attempted to converse.
“Don’t mention the autobiography to your father when he comes, please,” Beatrice said. “I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, and… you should know that George died. Some weeks ago apparently.”
Alex nodded.
Who was George? From their faces, the person didn’t seem to be anyone important. If it was weeks ago and Beatrice was casually mentioning it after dinner, how could they be?
“Ali went to the funeral.”
Alex nodded again.
So they were important enough that Beatrice’s agent went to the funeral instead of Beatrice and Alex.
Mother and son fell into silence as they each dove into their phone. Not ready to return to work, Sydney suggested they play a board game.
“We’ve got Monopoly,” Alex suggested. “Dad and I used to play it.”
“Great! One of my all-time favourites. Prepare to be thrashed. Beatrice, will you join us?”
“Mum doesn’t play board games,” Alex replied, resting his chin on his fist.
“What? Not ever?” Sydney chuckled. “Come on, Beatrice. Play with us.”
“No!” Beatrice snapped before emphasising, “I don’t play board games.”
Sydney flinched as Alex shot her a look that said loud and clear,I told you so.
CHAPTER12
An early start the next day resulted in Sydney yawning by eleven thirty. An early lunch break was in order. She’d relocated herself to the hexagonal turret room for the last few days. It afforded a cool breeze and a haven away from Beatrice and her infernal clicking fingers.
It was Beatrice’s suggestion that Sydney should work on the autobiography where she could concentrate. She hadn’t realised at the time that the clicking-finger demands would come via an endless series of text messages instead. She politely told Beatrice that to help her focus she would keep her phone off and, as Alex was around, perhaps her son could assist her instead.
The household had fallen into a rhythm since his arrival. Sydney would wake early and work for a few hours, checking through the previous day’s work before sending it to Beatrice. Then she would begin on the next section until she woke Beatrice and spent some time with her either in the kitchen or in her bedroom, talking through areas of the book for which she required more information. They would then discuss what she had already worked on, and Beatrice would either approve it or make further changes.
Sydney would take an hour off at lunchtime and either go for a walk around the grounds or swim. Beatrice would often fall asleep in the afternoons, the urge coming from the high-calorie lunch Sydney was feeding her under Rosie’s guiding text messages. She took Beatrice’s afternoon naps as an opportunity to have another break, either to spend time with Alex, who was usually lounging around the pool, or to have a snooze herself. She would then work for another few hours before dinner. Working intense twelve-hour days it was a relief not to cook, and Alex was proving to be a talented chef.
As she arrived on the first floor and passed Beatrice’s bedroom, she heard a voice.
“Sydney.”
She popped her head around Beatrice’s open door.
“I need you to drive us into town. Xander—sorry, Alex—needs a new wardrobe.”
Alex dropped his shoulders and rolled his eyes.
“Why can’t I go on my own? You can’t even walk.”
