Page 4 of The Bodyguard

“It’s a weekend with your family, Lena, that’s all.”

Well, I beg to differ on that score. There’s no such thing as “that’s all” with this family, but this is another fight I’m not sure I stand a chance of winning. So I might as well just give in and go for it. Besides, my mum’s a fabulous cook, and a weekend of her homemade meals isn’t something to be sniffed at. She does the best bacon sandwich I’ve ever tasted, in bread she makes herself. Beats the hell out of my shop-bought, standard white loaf version.

“And you never know, you might actually have some fun.”

Doubtful, but I push my suspicions to one side and leave it there. Whatever’s going on, I’ll find out soon enough.

Tearing off another piece of flatbread I wrap it around a chunk of lamb that’s so tender it almost falls apart between my fingers. I should be getting back to work, really. I still have a ton of things to do, phone calls to make, and I don’t particularly want to stay too late at the office tonight.

“What have you got planned for this afternoon?” I ask my mother as I shovel up a forkful of Greek salad.

“I’ve still got a few things left to buy for the newly-decorated summer house, so it’s a quick trip into town and then home to get your room ready for the weekend.”

It’s Tuesday. How long does it take to change the sheets and whip the vacuum round?

“I should be getting back soon.”

“To the office?” My mother arches a perfectly-threaded eyebrow, and I raise both of mine.

“Yes. To the office. I don’t just turn up there every day and pretend to know what I’m doing while someone else does all the work. I actually have a job to do.”

She crosses her legs and picks up her glass of wine, taking a small sip. “I don’t know why you wanted to take on all that responsibility.”

Ido. I did it because I didn’t want to end up a privileged princess who did nothing but shop for shoes and eat lunch with her mind-numbingly irritating girlfriends, that wasn’t the life I wanted. I actually wanted todosomething. I wanted to be a part of something. I wanted the chance to show that this family could actually do some good: give something back to a community that welcomed us with open arms, that’s why Nielsen Construction concentrates on building affordable homes for those who need them most. My idea. And some might say that’s something I’ve done to try and ease my privileged guilt, and that’s fine. People are allowed their opinions, but that isn’t what that is. It isn’t. I can’t help the family I was born into, but I can try and use its wealth and power to make a difference. I just have to try and ignore the reality of what’s going on in the background. What my father and brother are mixed up in. Their world is a very different, very dangerous one.

“You should make more time for yourself,” Mum continues. “You have the power to delegate, right?”

“Of course. But I like to do things myself, my way. Sometimes it’s just easier.”

“You get that from your father.”

“I frown. “Get what?”

“The need to be in control.”

And she knows as well as I do that that’s a trait shared by the entire Nielsen family.

“That’s not always a bad thing.” I wipe my hands on a napkin and finish the last of my wine. Just the one glass for me, like I said, I’ve still got work to do. “Okay. I really do have to get back to the office now.” I stand up and lean over to plant a quick kiss on my mother’s cheek. “Thank you for lunch. It was lovely.”

She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’re welcome, my darling. I’ll see you Friday?”

She phrases that as a question, almost as if she’s making sure I’m still coming. “You’ll see me Friday.” It would be more than my life’s worth to back out now. “Give my love to Dad.” I shout over my shoulder as I make my way down from the small but pretty little terrace and back out onto the Quayside, it’s no more than a few minutes’ walk back to the office. I love it here, this place is so full of life, filled with so many different people, I thrive on the atmosphere, I really do. And I smile as I walk, I’ve almost got a spring in my step, despite my misgivings about this forthcoming family get together. And I may well be overthinking it, it may not be as bad as I fear, but I know from experience – Iknow, because it’s happened once too often, that the one thing it won’t be is nothing.

Three

Our family home is a large, detached, Georgian-built house on the Northumberland coast with views of the sea and the fields that surround it. Set in acres of its own private gardens it’s a house full of memories, and I loved growing up here, so close to the beach. Me and Ollie could run down there from the house in minutes, although, because of the albeit quite quiet road we needed to cross to get to it we were rarely let out there alone, not until we were older.

It’s a grand-looking house, but inside it’s warm and cosy and that’s thanks to our mother’s talent for interior design. Room colours range from a light and airy beige in the smaller living-room at the back of the house to a deep red in the larger, front-facing living-room. The kitchen is very much a family room with a huge, rectangular table taking pride of place in the dining area, and an Aga that only my mother knows how to use. I’m terrified of the thing.

The six bedrooms are all decorated in different shades of green and brown and yellow, and the bathrooms all give a nod to the house’s coastal position, think blues and whites and sand-colored notes. I adore this house. And it’s nice to be back, for a couple of days,but I have no intention of moving back here. There’s no need.

“Were you strong-armed into this, too?” I ask Ollie as I pour myself a well-deserved gin and tonic and lean back against the kitchen counter.

“Not really. I never say no to a weekend of Mum’s cooking. What’s she got on the go tonight?”

He goes over to the stove and lifts the lid of the pot that’s currently bubbling away.

“Oh, man, she’s making my favourite!” He reaches for a spoon and dips it into the pot, blowing on the hot liquid before he tastes it. “Spiced lamb stew… Have you tasted this yet?”

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