Father & Son: Book two of the Jensen Family Series (34 page)

Dragging a t-shirt over his head and his
fingers through his hair as he jogged down the stairs, he came face to face
with his Mother and the burly, obtusely hairy, local builder he had employed to
sort out the damp problem he had discovered in the basement of the villa.
Employed then promptly forgotten about. Whoops.

Apologising to his Mother in English for
his slip up, he switched easily to Spanish and guided the builder outside,
explaining the problem as he unlocked the basement doors. Striding into the
relative coolness of the basement and over to the dampness that he had
discovered, he was pleased when the builder uncovered further smaller areas of
it and left him to sort it out.

Stepping back outside into the sun, he
decided to ignore his grumbling empty stomach and took just the one step
towards the beach when a voice stopped him. Turning slowly and shielding his
eyes from the sun, his heart skipped a beat when he clapped eyes on the girl
he’d been balls deep in only a few hours before.

She skirted the truck and glanced into the
basement before coming to stand in front of him. He grasped her arm and pulled
her over to the relative seclusion of the garden at the maids villa as he
demanded to know what she was doing there all the while racking his brains
trying to remember if he’d told her his location or indeed made any promises to
meet up with her again.

His relief must have been evident when she
explained that she was only there to hand tools to her father in the absence of
his regular helper and she would only be there for a few days. Her concept of
personal space was somewhat lacking, not that he minded, she smelled lovely and
he began wondering if his mother would notice if he borrowed the keys to the
maids villa for a few hours.

Monica caught sight of her son as she went
to join Tessa and the boys on the beach. It was hard to miss the bright yellow
t-shirt he was wearing but she was curious as to why he would be in the garden
of the smaller villa. She quietly moved closer and almost wished she hadn’t
upon hearing the conversation between him and the girl who had accompanied the
builder.

She didn’t say anything all morning; in
fact she had a lovely time with her family and laughed more than she could
remember in a long time. Conversation was kept light while they ate lunch but
as the boys drifted inside to stay out of the heat of the day and watch
cartoons, she turned to her son who was still covering freshly baked bread with
a thick layer of butter.

“You seem to be acquainted with the
builder’s daughter I see.” Never one to beat around the bush, she delved right
in.

Paul nodded and even though he was
thinking
Uh oh
he answered “Yeah, met her last night in a club.”

“Paul.” Monica warned, “We are surrounded
by good Catholic girls.”

Paul couldn’t help his grin, it set his
sister giggling. “I didn’t ask if she was Catholic and she was far from good in
a bad way if you know what I mean.” He laughed then, “Might be worth a second
visit.”

“Oh my God, you didn’t just say that!”
Tessa exclaimed through her laughter.

“Please tell me you didn’t.” Monica
scowled at him.

“I promised I’d never lie to you mum so I
can’t tell you that.”

“But....,you have a girlfriend.”

Paul shrugged “What happens in Spain stays
in Spain.”

It became the norm that Paul would spend
the daylight hours with Gavin and Luke, the most challenging part of it being
trying to prevent Luke from throwing himself off high objects in order to
obtain a cool plaster cast like Gavin’s’. In the evenings, after the boys were
bathed, had a bedtime story read to them and were soundly asleep, Paul would
dress ready for a night on the town. He took Tessa with him on a few occasions
but as she seriously cramped his style, it was only a few occasions.

Throwing a box of condoms at her son as he
turned to leave, Monica pinned him with her sternest stare and announced “I do
not want a football teams worth of grandchildren from the loins of just one of
my offspring thank you very much.”

Putting the box in his pocket, he thought
it ironic that his mother had chosen tonight to give him these, he had no
intention of going anywhere near the clubs. He had something else entirely in
mind. “Thanks mum but I have no intention of adding to the Jensen brood any
time soon.”

Paul was not what could be considered a
natural early riser. If there was work to be done that required him to be a
functioning member of society at the start of the day, he would be up, alert
and working but if there was nothing that required his attention, he would
simply sleep until his body had decided it was ready to rise so, on days off or
holidays, Paul could sleep for England.

Safe in the knowledge that his mother
would see to the boys first thing, Paul slept in. And slept and slept until
Monica felt the need to rouse him. Shaking him firmly, thinking it was about
time he got out of bed, just in time for lunch no less, she stepped back when
he turned to face her and opened his eyes.

Running a hand over his face and sitting
up, Paul bid his mother good morning before swinging his legs out of the bed.
Raising his arms above his head in a stretch, he felt the pull of tape and the
sting from his right arm. He’d fallen asleep with the dressing on. Picking at
the corner of the tape as he stood, he began to make his way to the bathroom.

“What have you done?” Monica asked,
thinking her son was injured, then “Oh Paul.” As he peeled away the dressing to
reveal the outline of a dragon tattoo covering his upper arm and stopping just
above his elbow.

“I took the opportunity to get this
started, it’ll have to be completed when I get home but it’s something I’ve
wanted for a while.” He explained. “Mum, it doesn’t make me a different person
and it’s in a place that can be hidden.”

“But you’ve permanently marked your body.”
She pointed out.

Paul stopped from retreating into the
bathroom, I have enough scars permanently marking my body, and this isn’t going
to make any difference now is it?” He asked. “At least I wanted this, I didn’t
ask for the others.”

“You are never going to forgive him are
you?” She asked even though she already knew his answer, as far as Michael was
concerned, Paul was stubborn.

Shaking his head, he answered simply “No,
never.” He put a stop to a more in depth conversation by stepping into the
bathroom and closing the door.

Paul relaxed back on the sand after
digging a hole for his legs. Cool sand began to cover him from the waist down
and small hands began patting it firmly in place. Gavin and Luke’s favourite
past time had become burying him in the sand which he was totally on board
with, it gave him the perfect opportunity to relax while still interacting with
the two boys.

He couldn’t help cringing as the spades
came out and began slapping down on the sand covering him, making it nice and
smooth. He relaxed back on his elbows and kept a careful eye on the progress of
the spades as they worked their way up his legs, ready to defend his pride and
joy if necessary.

His eyes were drawn to several yachts
idling by and he felt a longing to take the boat out, his thoughts drifting to
purchasing small, child sized life jackets. It took a few vital seconds to
notice the atmosphere between the boys had changed. A clash of spades over his
legs resulting in Gavin’s being cast aside and with a feral scream, the smaller
boy threw himself at his friend.

Stunned into momentary immobility, Paul
watched as his son rained punches down on the older boy who did nothing to
retaliate, he just took it with only the odd step backwards for a brief
respite.

Monica had heard her grandson’s scream and
made to go and sort the situation out when Tessa stopped her with a light touch
to her arm.

“Let’s see how Paul handles this Mum. He
has to learn sometime. If he mucks it up, then you can step in.”

Nodding, knowing her daughter was right;
she sat down but kept a wary eye, worried that her son’s volatile nature would
show itself at the worst possible moment.

Launching himself upwards, sand flying
everywhere, Paul wrapped an arm around his son and lifted him away from Luke.
Putting his son down and very firmly telling him to stay where he was, he
turned his attention to Luke and the red marks left on his body by his sons
flailing fists and plaster cast.

“You ok little man?” He asked, smoothing
his hands over the red blotches.

Nodding, Luke answered “Yes. I’m ok.”

“What happened?” Paul pressed.

“He just gets like that sometimes.” Luke
shrugged.

Looking over to where he’d left his son,
Paul felt his anger stir as he saw the little boy stomping up the beach towards
the ever forgiving arms of his Grandmother. Determined not to handle this the
way his own father would have. He gained his feet and cleared his throat before
speaking in a tone that brooked no arguments.

“Gavin. Stop. Right. There.” He had to
admit to himself that he was surprised when the boy stopped. Thinking
ok,
baby steps,
he continued “Turn around son.” His tone a little gentler but
not much. Gavin turned to face him and crossed his arms over his chest, his
sulky glare meeting Paul’s steely one.
Oh boy, I am in way over my depth
here.
“Come back here.” He beckoned. Gavin didn’t budge.
Ok. Now what?
“I
said come here.” He hardened his tone. Still the boy didn’t move. “Gavin. This
is your last chance. Do not make me come and get you.” The last sentence spoken
was almost a snarl, harsher than he intended but it got the desired result,
little legs started moving, carrying his son towards him.

Kneeling in front of his son, hands gently
holding his arms, Paul asked what had happened. The sulky reply of “He hit his
spade on mine.” Did little to improve Paul’s mood.

“Gavin, it was an accident and nothing to
get all fired up about. Look at what you’ve done to Luke. You hurt him. All
those red marks are what you did. Would you like it if Luke did that to you?”

Gavin shook his head. His eyes fixed on
his friend before turning back to his father.

“Is there anything you want to say to
Luke?” Paul asked. He would have to discuss how to address the subject of some
sort of punishment with his mother although punishment seemed too harsh of a
word for the current situation.

Nodding, Gavin walked over to the older
boy. “I’m sorry I hurt you Luke.”

What was that feeling he had forming in
his chest? Oh yeah, it was a little bit of pride that it hadn’t taken too much
pushing to get his son to do the right thing.

Grinning from ear to ear, Luke wrapped his
arms around his little friend. “It’s ok. Gav.”

Paul sank back onto his bottom and watched
the easy way Luke forgave and dismissed what had happened. In the grand scheme
of things, it wasn’t anything major but Gavin’s explosive reaction to the
situation had him worried. He looked up when a shadow fell over him to see his
mother spreading a towel on the sand and his sister doing the same on the other
side of him.

“You handled that well.” Monica told him.

“You think so? I had no idea what I was
doing.”

Smiling at her son, patting his arm “You
could have used a softer tone perhaps but you got a good result.”

“Did you see what happened?” Paul asked.
“I kinda zoned out for a bit.” He admitted.

“I saw it all.” Monica confirmed.

Great!
“His reactions are a bit extreme.”

“Both you and Carmen have tempers Paul.
You are both volatile creatures by nature. Can you reasonably expect Gavin not
to be the same if not worse? Seems to me he has a healthy dose of both your
personalities and I’d say you are in for a rough ride with that one.”

“Terrific.” He mumbled as he climbed to
his feet announcing, “I have sand in my boy parts, I’m going for a swim.”

Luke laughed, a truly dirty laugh that
would garner him plenty of attention if it stayed the same as he got older
“Sand in your boy parts.” He chuckled taking Paul’s hand and dragging Gavin
with him.

The final night of their holiday and Paul
decided to let the boys stay up a little later so they could all go for a meal
and maybe he’d be able to encourage his mother to show off her flamenco skills.
A large serving of paella shared amongst them and several margarita’s for the
adults and Monica was ready to get her groove on as the music started. A few
margarita’s more and Paul was right there with her while Tessa laughed and the
boys clapped and hollered in delight.

Watching her brother and mother, Tessa had
to admit to herself that she was a little envious that she didn’t fit in quite
so well. Her mother looked so happy, her cheeks flushed from alcohol and
exertion as she sidled up to Paul. He in turn, straightened his back and
standing side on to his mother looked down at her with all the arrogant flair
of a genuine flamenco dancer as they started to dance. She understood now when
he said he could happily live here. He was accepted, something he would never
be by their father.

When Monica flounced away to dance with
one of the other men present, Paul stood on the sidelines and clapped along
with the rhythm. He was relaxed, no tension in his body and he couldn’t stop
laughing. He had certainly needed this holiday that was for sure.

Two very sleepy boys were carried back to
the villa and left to sleep in the morning while the adults packed in
preparation for the flight home.  Paul’s customary bolt for the toilet still
happened on the homebound flight but after that, he fared reasonably well.
Immersing himself in games with the boys kept his mind off the fact that he was
in a flying cylinder full of fuel many miles above terra firma.

Once back in England and having instructed
his sister not to “do anything fucking stupid with my Porsche” he loaded the
boys and their luggage into Monica’s car and turned it towards Gloucester while
Tessa and Monica took his car home.

He expected for the two mothers to be
gushing with love and proclamations of missing their offspring, what he hadn’t
bargained for was the argument that ensued when Carmen caught sight of Gavin’s
plaster cast. To her credit, she saved her scathing remarks for when the boy
was in bed but she then sparked Helen off and he Paul found himself cornered in
the kitchen with two angry women.

Carmen was completely livid that he had
neglected to inform her of her son’s broken arm. Paul told her it wasn’t a big
deal, it was dealt with, the cast would be off in a little over a week and if
he’d told her beforehand, she would have prevented him from taking the boy on
holiday. He cringed when Helen actually agreed with him, knowing full well her
comments would do nothing to ease Carmen’s mood, his grudging respect for her
support was short lived when she, in her very next breath accused him of
encouraging Luke to lie to her on their daily phone calls as not once had the
seven year old passed comment on his friends cast.

It hadn’t even occurred to Paul to try to
convince the youngster to be economical with the truth, something right now he
was relieved about and he voiced as much, stating that he hadn’t even
considered that to be an option. Neither woman was entirely happy with his
answers but he stressed the point that a good time was had by all, both boys
had returned happy and mostly healthy and he thanked both women for their trust
in him.

Placated somewhat by his calm replies even
though his stance belied his apparent calm, Carmen and Helen backed down a
little. He found himself rekindling old flames with the mother of his son that
night and was tired but immensely satisfied as he began the journey home.

 He spent the next few days catching up
with his business and touching base with Jez and the staff at the club. He’d
been home three days before deciding it was probably a good idea to let his
girlfriend know he was home. The time away from her had cleared his mind and
spending a deeply satisfying night with Carmen had strengthened his resolve and
he had decided the relationship with Eve was no longer a viable one and it was
time for it to end.

He had planned to take her out, neutral
territory and break the news but she insisted on having her driver drop her at
his flat. This meant he had to make sure his Uncle would be out and after
explaining what he was planning to do, John was more than happy to leave for
the evening.

Considering he hadn’t seen her for almost
a month, she was hardly gushing with enthusiasm when he let her in to the flat
and therein lie the problem. Paul liked women with passion. Women who weren’t
afraid to tell him what they wanted in no uncertain terms and were eager to
take it from him when he made the pretence of being unwilling.

A few glasses of wine later had put him in
the mind set of trying his luck. His kisses and caresses seemed welcome enough
but as his hands began to roam, Eve tensed under his touch, telling him they
should take it slow as he’d been gone so long and it was like starting a new
relationship all over again.

Sitting back on a sigh and scraping his
hands over his face, Paul paused for breath before looking at Eve.

“So all the work I put into you was for
nothing? I have to start again?” He asked.

Sitting bolt upright, huffing and puffing
in indignation, Eve finally gained her feet and rounded on him “Excuse me? All
the work
you
have put in to
me
? How dare you.”

“Face it Eve, you aren’t exactly the warm,
cuddly type are you? I’ve invested a lot of time and patience with you and for
what? To start again? Nah, that doesn’t work for me.”

“The only thing that works for you is a
woman on her knees worshipping your cock.” She spat.

His brief thought of
well yeah, that
works really well for me,
was cut off when his mouth took over. “It works
as long as it’s not your mouth. I can honestly say I never want your mouth on
my junk again. Ever.”

“You have some nerve. I always knew you
weren’t classy enough for me.” She picked up her jacket. “I hope you have that
council project sealed up tight because the press are going to have a field day
with this.” She hissed as she reached the door.

Moving quickly, he slapped his palm on the
door, slamming it shut before leaning in to her, “Don’t try that shit with me.
Don’t forget I hold all the cards here. You sell your sob story to the press
and I might just let slip about dear old dad being a major financial fuck up.”

Eve laughed and stepped back from him. “I
knew you’d bring that up. How foolish will you look when I retaliate with the
news that you have been bank rolling him?”

“I can turn it around.” Paul shrugged. “Do
your worst.” He said over his shoulder, he needed a drink. Badly.

“I will of course, follow up that
statement with the fact that I’m pregnant and when you found out you dumped me
and are refusing to talk to me or take any responsibility?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, glass
teetering on the edge of his lip. Lowering his glass, he stared at her for a
few moments. “No way. I was always careful with you. I always had the feeling
all you ever wanted was a rich husband.”

“Oh Paul, how naive are you? Don’t you
remember being drunk and pestering me until I gave in? It happened more than
once. What will happen to your precious contract when this gets out?”

He downed his drink in one, welcoming the
burn.
Shit.
He turned his back on Eve, fingers fisted into his hair.
“Fuck” he whispered. There was no way he could afford to lose this contract. He
scrubbed his face with his hands, holding them there as his mind whirled a mile
a minute “Fuuuuuuck” he bellowed. Turning to face her, he braced his hands on
the kitchen counter “Get rid of it.” He growled.