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He winks, taking me by surprise. “I’ll show you some of the best places.”
He keeps hold of my hand as we walk to the front door, which opens instantly.
“You’ve made it,” Francesca says, descending the stairs in record time and throwing her arms around us both.
“Welcome Leah, please make yourself at home. This may be a large house, but there’s no standing on ceremony. That’s not how this house runs, not around the family anyway,” she says, linking her arm through mine and pulling me away from Gabriel.
He drops his chin and shakes his head.
“I’ve put you in your old room,” Francesca tells Gabriel, who is now being accosted by a middle-aged man.
“I’ll take care of your luggage, Mr Gabriel,” the man says.
“Thank you, Henry,” Gabriel replies before catching up to his mother and me as we walk through the large double doors and into the house.
The entrance hall is breathtaking. With a gigantic stone fireplace on one wall. Along with an ornate chandelier and a large curving staircase. I feel like I’ve been transported back in time.
I turn and face Francesca.
“You have a beautiful home,” I say, watching a smile form on her lips.
“Thank you. It’s a lot quieter now it doesn’t have five children running around. But one day, I hope my grandchildren will fill it.”
Oh boy, not too much pressure. I clench my hand against my side, preventing it from touching my stomach and the tiny life that’s growing.
“I’m still waiting for the others to arrive. Elijah and Lottie will be down after Lottie finishes school. Kat has a late meeting but has promised she’ll be here for dinner. Caleb is en route, and Harper is around somewhere, recovering from last night.”
It’s three thirty in the afternoon. It must have been a good night if she’s still recovering. But then the press is all over Gabriel’s little sister. Influencer and IT Girl. There isn’t a week that goes by without her doing something that splashes her over the tabloid newspapers.
“Gabriel, take Leah up to your room, and then you can join me in the drawing room for afternoon tea. Betsy’s been baking all morning. Her scones were due out of the oven. So they should still be warm.”
Taking my hand he leads me up the impressive staircase. In the centre, it diverts, either left or right.
“West wing, east wing, although a mezzanine balcony connects both sides,” he explains as we head right
The walls are wood panelled halfway up, the rest covered with artwork or photographs of the family. Gabriel has four brothers and sisters, and there are lots of photographs of them at varying times in their lives; celebrations, achievements, holidays. Alongside those are pictures of his extended family, which is even greater. We stop by what looks to be a family portrait. An older couple sitting centre stage. There must be thirty people of varying ages. I spot the twins. They look to be in their late teens.
“Cousins, uncles, aunts,” Gabriel says as if reading my mind. “My grandparents had five children, my dad being the eldest. The Frazer clan is quite extensive.”
“Do you still see them all?” I ask.
“Some more than others,” he says.
I can’t even imagine what it must be like to have that many relatives. On my father’s side, I have two cousins, but as an only child, my friends were the ones who provided me with companionship. It likely explains my close friendship with Stella and Nat.
“Quite a few will come on Sunday, but they’re spread out all over the world.” He stops in front of a large door. “This is us,” he says, pushing it open and motioning for me to step inside.
The room is remarkably light and airy. Two sash windows let in the afternoon light. I move towards the windows, heavy curtains framing them. The view looks over the back garden, where a hive of activity is happening on the lawn.
Gabriel comes to stand next to me, his posture more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him.
“Over there is the sunken garden and a maze of pathways. We used to love exploring as children. It leads to the vegetable garden, which also wraps around the side of the house, next to the kitchen. There’s a greenhouse there too. Mum is very into her organic vegetables and herbs. She’s also hands-on. My father used to laugh, telling everyone how she spent a fortune on manicures to get the mud out from under her fingernails.”
The affection in his voice is clear. His parents mean the world to him. That’s something we have in common.
“It kept her sane after Dad died. She spent hours tending her vegetables and fruit plants. That and the time she dedicates to the Frazer Foundation.”
I rest my hand on his arm. He turns his head, looking down at me. There’s pain in his eyes, but also something else.
