“I appreciate this, Rhys.” Steffan grips Rhys’s upper arm in an awkward half hug. “Between you and me, things have been tough lately. Once The Shore’s open all year round—once the rest of the resort’s finished—it’ll…” He stops for a second, as though he needs to compose himself. “Well, it’s going to save my business, mate.”
Tabby and Felicia abandon their flamingos and pile into the boat, spinning in circles as they row in opposite directions. Steffan starts his engine and speeds back toward the boathouse, and Rhys climbs back up to the deck, his mind already back on his career.
The tranquility of the lake is shattered by a roar from Bobby’s Jet Ski, slaloming down the center, with an arc of water in its wake. Where on earth has Bobby Stafford been for—Rhys checks his watch—almost an hour?
Bobby cuts the engine as he comes close to The Shore, drifting toward the pontoon between his own lodge and Clemmie’s before leaping off and securing the Jet Ski. His bare chest is glistening with water, and as he climbs the ladder and emerges onto the deck, there’s something annoyingly James Bond about the whole thing. Clemmie’s gone quite pink, and even Dee is peering over her sunglasses.
Ashleigh emerges from the lodge wearing a white bikini with six-inch heels. She strides across the deck before snaking an arm around her husband’s head and drawing him in for a kiss.
“Ding dong,” Jonty says.
“Get a room!” Tabby and Felicia shout in unison.
Bobby and Ashleigh are the focus of everyone’s attention, but as Rhys glances up the shore, away from the lodges, he catches a glimpse of a car on the road that runs through the trees. He might have thought nothing of it, were it not for the expression on Bobby’s face when he sees what Rhys is looking at. His face darkens, and the “Jack-the-lad, everyone’s mate, diamond geezer” doesn’t seem quite so friendly after all.
Rhys walks to the corner of the deck, keeping his eye on the gap in the trees where he knows he will see a final glimpse of the car before the road snakes out of sight. A second later, he sees it: a white Fiat with pink lettering advertising Mia’s SBIC & SBAN cleaning services, coming from the cove Bobby disappeared into.
“Dad, can I have some money? We’re going to row to the other side and buy ice cream,” Tabby yells from the boat, which now contains all four teenagers.
“What happened to the tenner I gave you at the start of the week?” Rhys says, distracted by what he’s just seen.
“We spent it,” Felicia says as though it were obvious.
“I’m not going to dish out cash every time you ask for it. If you want money, you’ll have to earn it.” Rhys thinks of Fleur’s suggestion that he hire an assistant. “I’ve got some admin you can do.”
“Can’t,” Felicia says instantly. “I’m busy.”
“I can’t either,” Tabby says.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“I’ll do it,” the redheaded girl says.
“Seren!” Tabby shoves her. “You can’t work for Dad.”
“Why not?” The girl fixes her gaze on Rhys. “Six quid an hour.”
He laughs at her audacity. “I’ll give you three.”
“The minimum wage is four sixty-two.”
“Four.” Rhys won’t be out-negotiated by a teenager. “Or I’ll do it myself.”
There’s a beat, then she nods. “Deal.”
Twenty-Nine
January 6
Leo
Elen Morgan doesn’t bat an eyelid when her daughter rocks up with Leo in tow. Neither does her expression change when Ffion explains—oblivious to Leo’s embarrassment—that Leo’s flat is in dire need of a makeover.
“It’s really not that—” he starts.
“A woman’s touch, you mean?” Elen says.