The Legacy by Caroline Bond (e book reader for pc .TXT) 📕

the fire. From her position on the window seat, Megan could see a knife caught between the sofa cushions. It needed moving before one of the boys got their hands on it. Megan knew it was the normal mess generated by a family, but it still bothered her. The urge to sweep it all up was intense, but that would be rude and would reveal her true emotions – her desire to scream and shout, and drive them all out of her house.

It was going to be a long weekend.

She turned away and stared out into the night, seeking solace in the view. Across the bay the castle glowed orange, lit for prettiness now, rather than as a defence against the Vikings. Scarborough had a long and proud history of having to repel unwanted guests. The thought would have made her smile in the past, when she had humour and resilience – and Jonathan to share the joke with. The castle ruin looked like it was floating in mid-air, the wooded headland beneath it indistinct in the darkness.

Behind her there was the unmistakeable sound of another bottle being opened. The wine had been flowing ever since Noah arrived, loosening tongues and lowering barriers. Was Liv ever going to take the boys up to bed? The alcohol in Megan’s stomach was certainly increasing her bitterness. She heard Angus distractedly tell Arthur to stop running around for the fourth time, his tone carrying no weight or threat. Chloe – who seemed to be speaking to no one in particular – was talking about how different it was going to be at Christmas. Nasty as it was, Megan couldn’t shake the belief that the conversation was a performance for her benefit. Every time they mentioned Jonathan, it felt like someone was flicking playing cards at her, the sharp edges cutting her thin skin. She knew she was being over-sensitive.

There was a clatter and she turned to see the bowl Arthur had been clutching to his little round belly fall and bounce across the floor, spraying crisps everywhere. He then proceeded to walk through the crisps, smashing them deeper into the carpet. Angus hauled himself off the sofa and did his best to tidy up, with a ‘Sorry, Meg’, but it made little difference. Crumbs in the carpet, it was hardly a crime. At least the mishap finally prompted bedtime. Angus swept both boys up and carried them out, ignoring Freddie’s protests – something about a promise Noah had made. She really needed to try and relax.

For most of the evening the voice dominating the conversation had been Noah’s. He was an anecdote machine. A litany of happy tales of high jinks with his father flowed from his wine-stained lips: the time they bumped into Freddie Flintoff in town and got invited to the cricket, for free; the driving lesson that ended with the Volvo – ‘you remember, the second-hand red one that always smelt of dog, no matter how often Mum had it valeted’ – in the ditch; the time Jonathan hired a full-sized panda costume for the New Year’s Eve party. On and on his voice went: the time we were happy, the time we were a proper family – the time before you.

It was purgatory.

It was too much.

Megan stood up suddenly, causing Noah to pause, mid-flow. With their attention on her, she picked her way through the debris littering the room, stepping over Noah’s legs – why couldn’t he sit on a chair like a normal adult? – and walked out of the room, leaving them to it.

Sadly, the hallway was little better than the sitting room. There was a huge jumble of boots and shoes by the front door, and far too many coats were loaded on the hooks. One of the coats had slipped off the hunchback of garments and was lying on the floor. With its outstretched arms, it looked like the victim of a nasty accident.

Megan left the abandoned coat where it was and crossed over to the kitchen. One glance at the cooking pots spread across the work surfaces made her hesitate. The dishwasher swish-swished as it laboured through its first load of the evening. She swerved away from the equally soiled dining-room. That left ‘the study’ – the place that had come to be Jonathan’s bedroom when the stairs had become too much of a challenge. Her decision on whether to seek sanctuary in there was made by Noah appearing in the hallway. His face was flushed from the fire and the wine.

‘You all right there, Megan? You look lost.’ As always, there was a sarcastic edge to his tone. Why wouldn’t she be all right in her own home? He leant against the wall, as if waiting to see what her next move was going to be. She refused to oblige, and stood her ground. Noah shrugged and set off up the stairs. ‘I promised to read to the boys.’ She nodded at his retreating back. ‘I’ll be back down in a jiffy.’

At the turn in the stairs she heard him stumble.

Only when he’d gone did she push down the handle and step inside Jonathan’s room.

Chapter 13

‘AND WITH a snort the dragon made crumpets for all three of them. They ate them sitting on top of the world, watching the clouds playing tag above the mountains.’ Noah closed the book and put it on the floor. Arthur was already asleep, mouth open, his breathing congested. The boy was a snot factory. Freddie was wide awake, sitting up in bed, hugging his knees with his hands.

‘One more? Please, Uncle No.’

‘No, Buster. It’s late. You heard your dad, you need to get some sleep. You’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’

Like the obedient child he was, Freddie didn’t push it. He lay down and pulled the duvet up under his chin, then curled up on his side like a dormouse. ‘Will you come down to the beach with us tomorrow?’

‘Maybe.’ Noah knew it was best