Page 37 of Broken Beyond Repair

“Do you want me to take him?” Sydney suggested.

Alex pressed his palms together. “Please, Mum.”

Beatrice answered after some consideration. “Very well.”

“Yesss!” Alex hissed as he headed for the door, flashing a smile of gratitude at Sydney as he passed her on the way out.

“Is there a budget?” Sydney asked.

“No.”

That sounded about right. It was typical in her experience that the only restraint rich people forced on their children was the amount of time they spent with them.

“Do keep in mind, though, how many clothes a teen requires when he spends most of his time in school uniform.”

“I’ll take Gertie if that’s okay?” Sydney said. “I need to keep her ticking over.”

“If you’d prefer to be seen in that rabbit hutch than in one of the luxury vehicles at your disposal, so be it. Whilst you’re out, get his hair attended to.”

“I’ll try.”

“Do more than try, Sydney. Succeed!”

Sydney wasn’t convinced forcing a teenager to get his hair cut was within her skillset — or anyone’s skillset for that matter.

Alex exited through the front door of the house in what Sydney assumed was his signature skinny black jeans and a tight, white T-shirt. He stopped and stared at Gertie. A smile crossed his lips as he took her all in.

“Is this yours?” he asked, approaching the driver’s window.

“Yep, this is Gertie. She needs a run, and I thought you might like to meet her.”

“She’s sick.” Alex jogged around to the passenger side and jumped in. “This is so cool! Can I look in the back later?”

“Sure,” Sydney replied as she coaxed Gertie over the gravel and down the drive.

“Thanks for taking me. I couldn’t face Mum coming.”

“It would be difficult with a broken leg.”

“It’s not the leg as much as her getting spotted. Then she gets swamped. Unless Jonathon’s around; no one dares mess with him.”

“It must be difficult not being able to do normal things with your mum, like go to the cinema, eat out.”

Alex shrugged. “It’s something I’ve got used to.”

She’d hear the same story from her client’s children wherever she went. It was the price of stardom that wasn’t quite appreciated by the parents. Sadly, the children of celebrities would never lead a normal life. They couldn’t go down the road and play with friends at the park, run out to the ice cream van in the summer, or pop to the sweetshop around the corner, working out the greatest number of sweets they could buy with a pound coin.

“Mum would never let me buy the clothes I want,” Alex added, still on his ‘celebrating my afternoon of freedom’ kick. “She always prefers that I wear a certain style.”

“She’s not here,” Sydney observed. “If she wants to see what you’ve bought, you can always separate out what she won’t approve of.”

Alex grinned at the potential deceit.

“When I was a little girl, my mum always put me in dresses,” she commiserated as the shade from the wood they entered offered relief from the sun, “and I hated it. You won’t catch me in a dress now. I prefer the plain image of men’s clothes; it’s a shame it’s all too big for me or I’d wear it myself. I don’t understand why they think we women want something put onto everything. I’m not a sequin girl, and I don’t want a cat or a bee on my jumper.”

Alex laughed. “Agreed. You must admit that women get much nicer-fitting clothes, though. It’s all so well styled. I buy a size down in men’s now.”

“I say wear what makes you feel comfortable. Life is too short to be a follower of fashion.”