Distraction

Chapter Seventeen

Trundling his bike down the Low Wood Farm drive never failed to cheer Patrick. The place almost felt like home. Shame he'd had to waste a day's holiday so he could drink on a Sunday - no booze when he was working the next day had been the hardest rule he'd agreed to. It ruined his usual Sunday bike ride with Robbie, but there was no way Patrick could endure a four year-old's birthday party without a beer or five.

In the yard, Cromwell, the fat Lab lay in the sun, the cat spread out next to him. Nothing changes. Except the place was a damn site tidier. Not that Robbie kept a sloppy yard, but the stable doors gleamed under a coat of fresh stain, the windows sparkled and hanging baskets filled with petunias and nasturtiums hung from the roof beams.

Would Ms Wilde be here? Yes, she was. Patrick paused by the yard gate, as she led Harmony, Tallulah's old gymkhana pony, out of a stable. Jesus, Libby looked more like seventeen year-old trailer trash than she had when they went to the Alfred. Her pale blue eyes, what you could see of them under her fringe, were caked with more black eye shadow than he'd seen most girls wear on a night out in Haverton and what was she wearing? Denim jodhpurs and a purple ACDC t-shirt that hung off one shoulder displaying a turquoise bra strap. He much preferred the girl he'd crashed into. He much preferred angelic.

As he opened the gate, Robbie came out of the house. Patrick approached him, offering an apprehensive handshake, but it quickly evolved into a back-slapping hug. Christ, it really was good to be home.

'This place looks good,' Patrick said. 'Van's been busy.'

'She's still away. Libby's done all this.'

Robbie smiled in her direction, but she was too busy grooming Harmony to notice, and unless Patrick was mistaken, there was a definite edge to Robbie's voice. Was he still worried about Vanessa and the bloke from the quartet?

'How's Van getting on?'

'She's in Yorkshire, at some music festival.' Robbie led the way to the garden. 'So how come you buggered off to Spain? You didn't call, you didn't write...'

Robbie was clearly passing idle chit-chat, settling the ground after the terse phone call the previous week, but how much should Patrick tell him? As they passed Libby, Robbie asked if she needed anything. She didn't look round but brushed Harmony's tail, humming to herself.

Robbie smiled. 'World of her own.'

More like she's snubbing me. Patrick shook his head. She was still pissed off. He couldn't see why. She got the cat.

'Spain?' Robbie asked again.

'Dad blew up after the Miss Haverton story,' Patrick explained. 'Had to keep my head low for a while, let him calm down.'

'I don't blame him. Shagging in the park?' Robbie shook his head, trying not to laugh. 'You're lucky you weren't arrested.'

'Seemed a good idea at the time.'

'If you ever fuck anyone in my restaurant again, I'll have you arrested.'

Patrick swore, his stomach bottoming out. 'You know about that?'

'We have cameras.'

'You're joking?'

'Yes. Laurel saw you go in.'

And this is what he got now, why he didn't need any rules. The days of pulling stunts like that were long gone. That wasn't who he wanted to be.

Patrick stalled at the garden gate. 'Jesus.'

If Vanessa had planned Matilda's party, he might've expected bunting hung around the garden, a bouncy castle at one end and pass-the-parcel at the other, but the bouncy fairy palace, vast paddling pool filled with bubbles and a giant rabbit performing magic tricks to one of Matilda's enthralled friends seemed way beyond the usual Low Wood Farm soiree.