Page 37 of Oz (Finding Home #1)

Chapter

Sixteen

From now on I’m going to be known as Herbert Humpadick

Oz

The next few days pass in a rush as everybody gets into gear for the party. It’s held twice a year. The winter one is held inside the house but the summer one takes place in a marquee on the west lawn that looks out to sea.

Events like this are a bit like a juggernaut gathering speed. You think you’re ready, but then everything happens at once and the fact that the word Oz seems to be on every single fucker’s lips doesn’t make it any easier.

“Oz, when shall I tell the marquee people to come?” “Oz, when are the tables coming?” “Oz, the caterers need to know when to set up tomorrow.” “Oz, can you sign this?” “Oz, where is the seating plan?”

“Oz, do you–”

“Oh my God, I’m changing my fucking name,” I snap without turning around. “From now on I’m going to be known as Herbert Humpadick and I won’t be answering to that poor fucker Oz’s name any more. Please pass all your questions onto someone that can actually find a fuck to give.”

There’s a soft snort, and when Chewwy barks I turn to see Silas standing in the entrance of the marquee.

Beside him are two men. One is a very beautiful man with shoulder-length wavy blond hair who is staring at me with a smile quirking his lips, and the other …

oh shit! This one is a redhead, but even though he looks very little like Silas apart from the nose and pretty eyes I know instantly that this is Henry, his brother.

“Good afternoon,” he says, coming forward, his voice so similar to Silas’s that it’s uncanny. “Herbert Humpadick, I presume?”

“Oh shit!” I sigh. “Just ignore me, for Christ’s sake.”

Silas laughs and Henry’s lip quirks. “I think that might prove to be difficult.”

He looks me up and down and it’s so quick that I almost miss it.

I wonder what he’s thinking. I’d hoped to meet them on the steps of the house with Silas.

I’d have been dressed in something elegant.

Okay, strike that. I’d have been dressed in something clean and ironed.

I don’t own anything elegant. Instead I’m dressed in shorts that used to be black but are now a greyish sort of colour, a black vest, and Converse hi tops that have so many holes they’re actually airy.

I’m also a sweaty mess and highly fucking sick of this event.

“This is Henry, my brother,” Silas says, coming around to sling his arm over my shoulder. He’s a brave fucker as I’m very sweaty after moving a load of tables. “And this is his boyfriend and our former stepbrother, Ivo.”

I blink.

“ Why do we always lead with that?” Henry sighs and Ivo smirks.

“Because it saves a lot of awkward questions later,” Silas says patiently. “You do remember at Christmas when Mrs Patrick seemed to think that you were starring in your own personal gay version of The Borgias ?”

“Weren’t they on EastEnders ?” I ask and Ivo bursts into laughter.

Henry shakes his head and smiles at me. “I’d say welcome to the family, Oz, but I think you’ll fit in easily.”

I blink and Silas clears his throat awkwardly. “Oh, erm, thank you,” I finally say. I’m hardly family but it seems rude to correct whatever delusion he’s suffering from. Henry looks confused and I rush into speech.

“I’ll just grab the seating plan and we can leave this fucking marquee.” Behind me I hear a dull thud and a stifled “ouch,” but when I turn back they’re all standing innocently watching me. I smile. “I don’t want to know,” I say airily. I wave the plan at Silas. “You need to look at this.”

“Why?” he asks, taking it from me and scanning the tables and names.

“Because I don’t work for the fucking United Nations. Although after trying to sort out the factions around here I’m actually considering a career change.”

Henry breaks into laughter. “Oh my God, it’s terrible. I remember when our mother used to do it.”

“Yes, but she adopted the Boadicea approach,” Ivo says, and I can hear a French accent in his drawl.

Silas nods. “You’re right. She did do exactly as she wanted.”

“I actually meant more that she’d crush you under the wheels of her BMW if you crossed her. Olivia is not the most compassionate woman.”

Silas winces. “Let’s not mention her name,” he says in a hushed voice. “It’s like Beetlejuice. If we say it, she’ll appear.” Shudders run through all three men as if they’re taking part in a silent Mexican wave of nerves.

I shake my head. “I’ll leave it with you,” I say cheerily. “I’m off for a shower.”

“Me too,” Silas says enthusiastically, and Henry and Ivo’s heads turn to him. He flushes slightly and I want to laugh. “Not with each other,” he says over-heartily. “I mean separately, obviously.”

I shake my head and take pity on him. “We’re into water conservation around here,” I say blithely. “There’s a national heatwave on, you know.”

Ivo laughs. “That’s so civil-minded of you.”

I wink. “That’s me. Civil.”

Silas smirks. “I really don’t think so. Your mouth gets you into more trouble than anyone I’ve ever met.” Affection passes over his face as he runs his hand down my back.

To my embarrassment I arch slightly like a cat being petted, and Henry looks at us assessingly. When he looks up and catches my eye he looks unrepentant. Instead he winks.

“We’ll all go in. Are we in the Blue Room, Oz?”

“Oh, erm, yes.” I shoot Silas a look. I don’t know why Henry’s asking me rather than his brother who the house belongs to. “That’s your room, isn’t it?”

Henry smiles. “And please tell me that you’ve put my mother on the other side of the house?”

“I have. She’s in the bedroom with the wisteria wallpaper.” I look at my diary. “Actually, I’ve still got to check her room. Niall was sleeping in there while they repaired the window in his room.”

“Thank God she’ll be far away,” Ivo mutters. “It’d be like sleeping next to the Queen of the Undead otherwise.” He shudders. “I’d have had to get out the crosses and the garlic, and I’m pretty sure we had to leave that bag behind because it wouldn’t fit in the car with all of Henry’s luggage.”

Henry glares. Silas laughs. And I check the marquee again. It looks beautiful, all cream fabric and the late afternoon sun sliding lazily across the wooden flooring.

“You done?” Silas asks and I nod.

“Flowers are coming tomorrow morning and the bar and caterers are setting up at nine. The band’s arriving at ten.”

“Make sure they play a jaunty tune to mark my mother’s arrival,” he mutters.

Henry laughs. “Something like The Funeral March .”

I look around at them with a question hovering on my lips. Henry looks at me and his smile is wide and kind, and I relax all of a sudden because that’s Silas’s smile. “Yes, she is horrible,” he says. “We’re really not making it up. Stay out of her way and don’t meet her eyes.”

“Weren’t they the instructions for dealing with Medusa?”

Silas laughs loudly. “She’d have been nagging Medusa about being too kind and friendly to visitors.”

Ivo snorts and, grabbing Henry’s hand, he tugs him out of the marquee. I stare after them. “They really are a beautiful-looking couple.”

Silas twists to face me. “Are you okay?” he asks, pushing my hair back off my hot forehead. “You look a bit stressed. I’m so sorry I haven’t been around.”

“I’m fine.” I grab his hand and drop a kiss on it.

“And how could you help? You’ve been so busy since we got back from London and Theo went ill.

” He hasn’t been home each night until after two, and he’s back out again at nine the next morning.

“When this is done I want you to take a few days off,” I say sternly.

“You’ll be making yourself ill the way you’re going on. ”

“I can’t take time off,” he immediately and predictably argues. “I’m needed.”

“Not half as much as you think,” I say patiently. “You have an overexaggerated sense of importance.” He laughs and I carry on. “The world will get on fine if you spend a few days in bed.”

“Will you be in it? Because you could really do with some time off too,” he whispers, dropping a light kiss on my lips and then coming back for a deeper one.

“Of course.” I lean into him, chasing his mouth until a cough makes us move apart.

“Sorry,” Henry says, looking slightly flustered.

He shoots me a look which seems to combine approval and happiness.

Then he blinks and the freaked-out look reappears.

“Did you say that Mother was coming tomorrow and she’d only maybe be staying if she felt like it and we couldn’t shove her into the boot of a car in time? ”

Silas slings an arm over my shoulder and tugs me into his side. “I did. Why?”

“Because she’s outside ordering the distribution of her luggage.”

“You’re fucking joking,” Silas explodes.

“It’s not a joking matter,” Henry says primly. “Mr Peters, the taxi driver, does not look happy to have become an Ashworth servant. I don’t think it was in his job description.”

“Shit!” Silas breathes, and I feel nerves take root and explode in my stomach like ugly butterflies. He turns to me. “Come on. Meet her and get it over with. It probably won’t hurt too much.”

“It probably will,” Henry says glumly.

When we get outside it’s to find a taxi parked slightly askew on the drive. An extremely disgruntled man is staggering towards the main entrance carrying a load of bags and being directed by a very beautiful woman.

I stare at her from my vantage position slightly behind the brothers. I now see where Silas’s looks come from. She has black hair, greying slightly, cut in a very elegant bob. Dressed in a pale blue dress, she’s a picture of cool English beauty.

Silas moves towards her and after being shoved by Ivo, Henry follows, directing a glare at his unrepentant boyfriend as he goes. I look at Ivo.

“Aren’t you family? Shouldn’t you be joining the welcoming committee?”

“I’m luckily from the side of the family they like to pretend didn’t exist.” He grins at me. “My mother and Olivia never got on. Fucking hated each other, in fact, because of a difference in opinion.”