Page 87 of Oar Than Friends

‘I will not,’ came a voice as clipped and stern as Oz’s, except with a gentler undertone and not as deep. ‘I wasn’t allowed to come and collect her, and as you wouldn’t give me her number when we were skiing, what do you expect? This is entirely your own fault.’

I was released from the embrace, and found myself face to face with the culprit; someone who was unmistakably Oz’s sister. Even if I hadn’t known it was Phoebe from Oz’s shouting, I could have picked her out of a line-up without looking at the other four. The same slanting pale-blue eyes, wide Roman nose, full lips and high cheekbones where the pink of her sweater highlighted her rosiness and bronzed face from their week skiing.

They could have been twins.

Phoebe tossed her thick dark hair over her shoulders until it tumbled down her back like a glossy midnight waterfall, and I stood there gaping, wondering if it was appropriate to have a girl crush on Oz’s sister.

‘OMG, I can’t believe Artie has finally brought someone home. Honestly, you’ve no idea how excited we’ve been about this since he told us about you. I’ve never met any of his girlfriends, not that he’s had any,’ she leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper, though her volume barely dropped, ‘between you and me, I did wonder if he was gay.’

The casual use of ‘girlfriend’ made me jolt; it was yet to be discussed. Over my shoulder Oz mumbled something I didn’t catch over the noise of the dogs. She was just like Imogen – no inhibitions, said whatever was going through her head at the time, completely oblivious to anyone around her, fierce and yet utterly likeable.

‘Not everyone wants a revolving door of lovers like you, or has time for them,’ he snapped, snatching me from under her arm and wrapping me in his.

‘What? I just like seeing you happy.’ Even with the way she towered over me, she still needed to reach on her tiptoes to kiss Oz on the cheek.

Oz rolled his eyes at her, except she was winking at me as a soft curve crept up her lip, and I just about stopped myself from laughing again. I’d also been too engrossed in their squabbling to notice the suave middle-aged gentleman dressed in a button-down shirt and dark slacks now standing by the car and holding my small suitcase. I’d seen a picture of Arthur’s dad, and this wasn’t him, nor was he a member of the family given his blondish-greying hair.

‘Arthur, I’ll place all the bags in your room.’

‘Thanks, James.’

‘Miss Kate, may I fetch you a drink after your journey before you sit for lunch?’

My eyes flicked from him to Oz to Phoebe, who were both waiting for my answer like it was perfectly normal to have a strange man taking your things and offering to fetch you a drink, ‘Oh … I … um. Water would be good, thanks.’

‘Very well. Let me know if you need anything else.’

‘James, please may I have a Coke?’ Phoebe called after him as he walked back into the house. ‘Diet. Diet Coke.’

‘Who’s that guy?’ I asked quietly.

‘James is the estate manager for my mother’s properties. He travels with her, makes sure everything is how she likes it, gets the houses ready before she arrives, manages the staff. That sort of thing. He’s been with us forever, not sure what she’d do without him.’

‘Staff?’ I mouthed.

I was not in Kansas any more, nor the Connecticut coastline, it seemed.

‘Come on,’ he smiled, his hand curling around mine as he tugged me along, ‘Phoebe, where’s Mama?’

‘She’s coming, she got a call just as you got here.’ The wide grin she’d been sporting since we’d arrived morphed into a hard line, and it made me wonder if her entire greeting wasn’t for show and a little distraction from whatever their mom was doing, especially when Oz tensed next to me.

The dogs ran ahead as I followed him mutely into the house, through an incredibly ornate entranceway and under a wide stone arch carved with forest animals and birds, until I found myself standing in an enormous entrance room, with a Christmas tree in one corner by a blazing fireplace. It felt like the type of entranceway where a quartet of violins would greet you upon arrival; instead we were deafened by Mariah Carey blasting out of hidden speakers.

‘Phoebe, turn it down! For God’s sake, I’m not going to spend the entire Christmas holidays telling you!’

I spun to the left at the voice bellowing from along ahallway to see Oz’s mom appear, and it became clear where Oz and Phoebe had inherited their bone structure, along with their height and all-round glamour. Phoebe pulled out her phone with a wicked grin, but did as she was asked and the volume lowered. Her mom took a deep breath, rolled her eyes and turned to me with a smile.

‘Hi, I apologize in advance for my chaotic children.’

I held my trembling hand out to shake, because I honestly wasn’t sure if I should curtsy in front of this incredible, regal woman, or whether I actually knew how to curtsy, but I was pulled into another enormous hug. A proper mom hug.

‘Kate, let me introduce my mother, Daphne.’

She stepped back a little, but held onto my shoulders and I found myself gazing into a set of the warmest brown eyes I’d ever seen. Ones that immediately put me at ease. ‘It’s wonderful to meet you, Arthur talked non-stop about you last week.’

I knew my cheeks had turned pink. I could feel them heating from her compliment, especially as I also knew Oz was staring right at me with that grin of his. ‘Oh, thank you. I’ve heard so much about you too. Thank you for inviting me, it’s very kind, I brought …’ my head snapped up to Oz, ‘I left them in the car.’

‘No, they’re here.’ He held his spare hand up, holding two large pie boxes. The condition I had to bring something for his mom took us to the pie shop in Oxford where we’d been on our second date. I bought two whole ones – my favourite and Oz’s favourite – and given where I was standing I was thankful it was too late to have secondthoughts about pie being lame. ‘Kate loves pie more than life itself.’

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