In Safe Hands - 10. Chapter 10

In Safe Hands
by Riley Jericho

Chapter Ten

That same afternoon, and about a mile and a half away, a telephone rang.

"Hola?" Picking up, a soft cultured voice answered, listening to the voice of the caller, before calling out. "Estela, it's for you!"

Estela Garcia Fernandez popped her head over the banister and down into the expansive foyer of their villa. "Who is it?" she asked brightly. She waved her hands, to speed up the drying varnish that she'd been meticulously applying.

"It's Alejandro."

Recognising her mother's 'scandalised' look, as she mouthed wordlessly, and held the receiver as far from her as possible, Estela sighed. It had been a mistake to tell her that Ale preferred guys!

"Can I take it in your room?" she asked, not moving from the landing. Her mother looked a little disappointed, but nodded.

"Hi Ale," she said moments later, after picking up the extension.

"Hi!"

Estela paused and waited. Pointedly she spoke again. "OK Mum, I've got it..." There was a click as the receiver was replaced. Mothers! She loved hers dearly, but she wasn't half nosey!

At the other end, she heard the wry grin in Alejandro’s tone. "Does she still think I'm going to jump your brother?"

She laughed. Her well-built sixteen-year old bore not one, but several good looks! She relaxed, though it still irritated her that her parents had become so quick to judge Ale, even though they had known him almost all his life. "Sorry about that...you ARE still coming tomorrow, aren't you?"

She and Alejandro had been playmates since she was little; a friendship that cut across the significant class divide that separated their families. She was extremely fond of him, though that mutual fondness—much to her mother's relief—had never blossomed into anything else. When he'd first told her, and then, some time after, the rest of their tight-knit group of friends that he thought he was gay, she had been surprised at how UNSUPRISED she had been. It had just made sense.

However, telling her mother had been a big mistake!

"Of course I'm coming...it's just.."

"Just what?"

"Well...I...errr..."

"Come on you idiot, what di you do? Spit it out?" It wasn't like Alejandro to get tongue-tied. This had to be good!

"Well, I wondered whether you'd thought of asking Miguel - him being around at the moment...you know…"

He was so easy to read, bless him, giggled Estela to herself. He'd been acting like a lovesick puppy for days! "Ah. So, let me guess,” she chuckled. “If I ask Miguel, it would only be right to ask...oh what's his name now...ah, I remember...we could ask Elliott too!"

“Estella!”

She could hear the blush in his voice and teased him mercilessly. "Come on Ale - it's me - you might as well come out and say it!"

"Crap. Tell me it's not THAT obvious! Is it?" Alejandro muttered. She could almost see him flushing helplessly at the other end of the phone and wondering how the hell she always knew these things?

Her mother had trained her well!

Estela knew she could get away with it - and a lot more - but didn't press TOO hard. "Obvious? To me? Yes. Try not to drool much more though," she giggled.

"Estela!"

"OK, keep your hair on,” she placated. “You know I'm only kidding," Despite the cool and confidant outward appearance that he'd learned to project, she was familiar with the Alejandro underneath. The one that fewer people saw. When it came to relationships, she knew the struggles he'd gone through in accepting who he was, let alone coming out to his family and friends.

Plumping up the pillows on her parent’s bed, she made herself more comfortable. "So you think I should invite them....?" She was surprised that she'd not thought of it herself.

"Oh, well....errr....I kind of..."

"Don't tell me," Estela grinned, reading him easily again. "You already did."

"I might have done," Alejandro confessed. The tone was coy now. "It's okay isn't it?"

"You know it is." She knew she was one of the few completely non-judgmental friends he had and would do anything for him. He, in return, hid little from her. She still felt slightly guilty that, during term time she was only here at the weekends. During the week, she attended an expensive boarding school near the city, having eventually given in to her parent’s expectations for her education. On the other hand, she had to admit it WAS a good school. Even so, she came back faithfully, every weekend. Mainly for Ale.

"So, do you think Elliott likes you, too? Does he prefer guys as well?" She snuggled into the pillows comfortably. Like any red-blooded human, she loved a good romance!

"I don't know really.” Stuff like this, whatever your preference was always a big question and, on the other end of the phone, Alejandro sighed. “Maybe."

Estella chewed her lip. He'd never particularly had the hots for anyone since that rather weird thing with Hugo – even though he thought she didn’t know about that! Right now, it sounded like the thing with Elliott was driving him crazy!

"For God's sake, he'll be leaving in a few days," he muttered to himself down the phone. "Tell me I'm being stupid!"

"You’re being totally ridiculous, Ale." She paused. "There, did that help?"

"No, not really," Alejandro grumbled. "Can you try it again and say something different?"

"What am I going to do with you?" Estela laughed. "So have you talked to him much, or mainly stuck to just staring at his bum?"

At the other end of the line, she could practically hear he grin on his face! She didn't miss much; and he HAD been doing rather a LOT of that.

"Leave me alone,” he sniggered. “We've talked a few times but, you've seen him, he sticks close to Miguel most of the time. I thought at the party there might be a chance to get to know him a bit better...and I know, I know, he's leaving soon," he added.

There was a pause. "It's never going to work is it?" he muttered.

"Well, until you know whether he's even gay," she suggested, fairly reasonably, "let alone likes you or not, then, no, it’s unlikely to go anywhere! And you won't find that out, just by staring at his backside. Talk to him, for goodness sake! And if you make friends, there are things called telephones and email. Who can tell what the future holds?"

Several minutes later she replaced the handset back onto its hook and came back downstairs to join her mother. She found her outside, behind the house on the extensive patio area, enjoying the last of the day's sun. Pulling a lounger from out of the shade, she drew it the other side of a small table, which carried a half-full jug and some glasses.

"Is that alcoholic?" She pointed to the jug.

"No dear - just ice, water and lemon."

Pouring herself a glass, she settled back to watch her brother swimming lengths in the pool. She liked this time of day. The heat of the sun was passing, and the subtle smells from the well-tended grounds drifted across towards the patio. It was the herb garden that did it, and she could pick out thyme and a hint of mint. The patio was a suntrap and, even now, was warm, as the heat of the day was released by the expensive, granite paving slabs. She wondered whether to don her costume and join Emilio in the water.

"And how is that boy?" Señora Fernandez looked over the top of her magazine, and down her aquiline nose towards her daughter.

"If you mean Alejandro, he's fine mother. And he does have a name you know. You've known him long enough!"

Gabriela Fernandez pursed her lips, but didn't rise to the implied rebuke. Estella knew her position. Alejandro Lopez was a queer. In a small town like this, reputation was everything, and her daughter had yet to learn that people talked. She would be wise, she said, to put a little more distance between her and that particular young man!

"Did he ring to say he wouldn't be coming tomorrow?"

You wish mother!

"No," Estela replied, patiently. "He was just calling to suggest it would be nice to invite Miguel too. He's here in town just now."

"Miguel? Miguel Ortiz? Now he's a nice boy. A good family. His father is an artisan - an artist." In fact, their villa was adorned by several pictures that Immanual Ortiz had been commissioned to paint for them. "I hear Miguel Ortiz is quite a talented musician?"

"Yes mother," replied Estela, though how her mother had discovered that was anyone's guess! "It's OK to invite them?" Not that they weren't already coming!

Gabriela Fernandez sighed. "I seem to remember you saying, 'if I HAVE to have a party, mother, then PLEASE can we keep it low key? Just a few friends.' .Now we seem to be catering for half the town! And don't think I didn't notice you said 'them'!"

Estela had to grin. Her mother missed nothing - at least nothing she deemed important. And she was right, she HAD said 'just a few friends'.

She sat up and pushed her long flowing black hair down her back. So what if she'd changed her mind - she was a girl. Anyway, she could probably have changed the guest list from ten to a hundred, thirty minutes before they arrived, and her mother would still manage to pull it off flawlessly. It was the kind of thing she excelled at!

"Do you want it brushing out dear - I have a brush here in my bag."

Estela nodded and came to sit cross-legged on the warm paving slabs alongside her mother's lounger. As she had done hundreds of times before, her mother began to methodically brush out the long dark tresses. It was soothing. Calming. For both of them.

"So who is Miguel bringing? Or is it more than one?"

The other side of the brush, Estela smiled to herself. She knew exactly where her mother was going. "Just one, Mum, and it's a he. His name's Elliott."

"Elliott?" her mother replied, her mouth trying to fit around the unusual shape of sounds. "What kind of name is that?" Despite the name, she appeared relieved to hear it wasn't some girlfriend, and there might still be the opportunity to steer her daughter towards the young Ortiz teen and away from...from that boy!

She would never change her, Estela knew.

"Elliott," she replied, correcting her mother's awful pronunciation. "You'd like him. He's American, though you wouldn't know it."

"American?" Her brother, Emilio, pulled himself out of the water, close to where the loungers were arranged. "You mean the fair haired kid who plays down at the nets with you?"

"Do you mind - you're dripping on me! And you're standing in the sun!" she complained. "Yes, American, but he lives in England and he speaks perfect Spanish. In fact he speaks quite a few languages. And that's my chair! Get your own!"

Emilio ignored her and, after toweling dry, laid himself comfortably in the adjacent lounger.

"And that's my glass too!"

Emilio ignored that as well.

"So!" he declared finally. "Tell us about this Elliott that you're infatuated with!"

"You're infatuated with him?" Her mother stopped her brushing strokes in surprise. Estela was so tempted to give the finger to her brother, but her mother didn't approve of such behavior.

"Ignore him mother! He's just trying to wind you up. No, I am NOT infatuated with Elliott Carter. He's just a nice guy, who’s here on holiday with his family."

"So, how come he speaks so many languages?" Emilio probed.

"Do you eavesdrop on everyone's conversation?"

"Pretty much," Emilio grinned. "It comes with working at the cafe!" It was one of the businesses that the family owned and, much to his mother's annoyance—which alone made it worthwhile—he waited on tables on weekends and holidays, to earn his own money.

"His father works for DHL…the parcel delivery company."

"He's a postman then?" Emilio loved pressing all her buttons!

"No, he is NOT a postman, you idiot! He's some kind of executive. Elliott says they travel from country to country, troubleshooting problems, or something like that. It sounds an amazing life!"

"What's wrong with being a postman. I'd quite like to do that," returned Emilio evenly, knowing exactly how to get up his sister's nose.

"There's nothing wrong with..." began Estela, beginning to fume, but her mother interrupted.

"I don't think we're spending thousands of euros on your education,” she pronounced, “for you to become a postman." She returned to Estela’s hair. "So, this Elliott is coming tomorrow? I look forward to meeting him!"

"Yes mother," replied Estela, refusing to be drawn. "Is everything going to be ready?"

"Yes dear. The men are coming in the morning to prepare the patio. They'll also erect two enclosures on the lawn, for girls and boys changing. I don't want wet children dripping through the house. The caterers will be here by 16:00."

"Do you have the Magician booked, mother? And where are we hanging the piñata this year?" sniggered Emilio.

Estela ignored him. She‘d grown out of Magicians years ago, and the last time they'd had a piñata, she had stood too close as Emilio was attempting to batter it. She carried a small scar, just above her ear, as a memento! No, tomorrow would be a pool party, with music provided by a DJ. ALL her friends were coming - and she had many - and Emilio had decided to invite his own, as well. It was going to be a full house, and even SHE was beginning to look forward to it!

* * *

Back across the other side of town, forty minutes after her son had dropped off to sleep, Miguel’s mother tapped lightly on her son’s bedroom door. Getting no answer, she put her head in and saw the sleeping boys and smiled.

They really were like two peas in a pod, those two! It would be such a shame when the Carters had to leave. Alike in many ways, they were also quite different, and she had been surprised at how quickly the friendship had blossomed. Miguel was going to be disappointed to have to go back to reading books all day!

"Wake up sleepy heads - you won't sleep later! We're going to put the video on in about twenty minutes. I'm just making some pizzas."

Elliott stirred. His frame didn't seem to belong to him and felt leaden and completely without strength. The smell was familiar, though the pillow was not his, and it took a few moments to make sense of where he was.

"I could have stayed there all night!" he groaned, rolling over heavily, but still not getting up.

I wish you would, mused Miguel from across the room.

"Did you sleep too?" Elliott added, eyeing Miguel curled up in the beanbag. "It’s your bed, you should have been here."

"Nah - it's fine. Your snoring kept me awake anyway!" Miguel teased though, like Elliott, he'd been fast asleep when his mum had disturbed them.

"Oh come on, I don't snore!" returned Elliott defiantly. "Do I...?"

"It’s like a cross between a pig and a steam engine!"

Elliott looked horrified.

"Just kidding," laughed Miguel. A little stiffly, he uncurled himself out of the beanbag. "Mama said she's making pizza."

"I heard. Didn’t we just eat lunch?" Elliott stifled another huge yawn. "I could do with a drink, though. Something cold."

Finally, he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The room felt familiar. Comfortable. Like he'd lived here for years. Standing and stretching, he caught a glimpse of himself in the adjacent mirror. With the setting of the sun, the colours in Miguel's bedroom were enriched. Warm chocolate swung comfortably at his hips. The colour, empowered by the remains of the sun, seemed to glow. Even Miguel seemed to notice.

"OK, I admit it. You were right," Elliott admitted. Coyly, he turned slightly to get a better look. “It doesn’t exactly help that you can’t try them on in the shop!” He'd grimly hung on to the black ones for ages before, at Miguel's patient insistence, he'd relinquished those for these creamy chocolate browns.

"However," he added, with an uncharacteristic gleam as he went to retrieve the shorts and shirt "the only reason I didn't go for the dark red ones, like those," he pointed at Miguel's backside, "was because they only did them in the extra large, to fit humungous Spanish bums, like yours!"

To mark his words, and with a flick of his wrist that held his shirt, he landed a stinging blow on that same Spanish, spicy, red-encased, backside.

Miguel squeaked with surprise - for two main reasons. The first was that Elliott had SMACKED him on the backside, and the second because Elliott had smacked him on the BACKSIDE: and those two were NOT the same!

Grabbing the shirt from him as Elliott tried, rather desperately, to get his shorts on, he retaliated with a vengeance, flicking expertly against skin and cotton alike. Elliott hopped around, giggling and trying to stay out of reach until Miguel was forced to stop - primarily because he suddenly realised he was getting hard; a quickly growing problem that drove him to give up the weapon, in exchange for the sanctity of his own shorts.

After Miguel had dressed 'decently' as his mum called it, he and Elliott gathered, with the rest of their families, in the Ortiz living room.

The TV was not big, and the comfy seats were not many, but Elliott thought that kind of made it more fun! It felt like an extended family night in, snuggling up with people you actually liked, rather than a formal dinner party with visitors you hoped you would never have to meet again.

The four adults took the sofa and armchair. Sam wedged himself against a soft footstool, putting up with his mum's toes in his ears. Natty worked her natural charm and ended up cuddling into Isabella - and fell straight to sleep anyway - and Miguel dragged his beanbag into play for the two of them to share.

Wedged into the beanbag, which was backed onto the corner of the armchair to stop it sagging completely flat, they tried to settle in. Elliott found himself sliding all over the place.

"You are SUCH a WIGGLER, Elli!" Miguel grunted. With all Elliott’s shifting around, the beans had redistributed and he had subsequently sunk to the ground "I'm on the floor now!" He sat up on his haunches and Elliott rapidly began to descend. As the beans equalized, Miguel plunked himself back down, creating a hole into which the two of them fell.

Elliott found he quite liked it.

During the first half of the film, he ended up in a pile of beans with Miguel – beans which formed protectively around them, guiding them into what became a familiar comfy contact. It was like becoming one with someone. Maybe it was his deodorant or maybe it was much more than that, but he found Miguel's proximity, and his smell intoxicating. Warm, musky and rich. He was just a little disappointed when a break was called, half way through.

Miguel's dad had - shortly before - popped into the kitchen to push the three oversized, home-made pizzas into the hot oven and everyone stretched, or got up to queue for the bathroom. By now, the delicious smell of baked pizza was even beginning to compete with Miguel!

"I'd better take Natty down now, I think," sighed Rose. "She needs to be in bed. I'll have to catch the end of this one, another time." Whilst she knew Benedict would probably say 'just put her down and come back up here', she wouldn't do that. What if Natty woke up and couldn't find them? They wouldn't even hear her crying!

"Rosa, why don't you just put her in Miguel's bed? Then take her down after the movie?"

“Well, I don’t want to make a fuss…”

“I don’t mind,” put in Miguel, feeling that somebody should actually ask him. It didn’t seem like it mattered, as his mum moved things along. She lifted, and then carried the sleeping form through to his bedroom, tucking the little girl under his sheets.

“You’ve got a girl in your bed, Miguel!” sniggered Sam, as the three boys returned to the kitchen to load their plates with more pizza. Unable to resist, he stood with his back to the two older ones and snaked his arms around behind, feeling himself and making snogging noises.

“SAM…” came a warning call. “Behave…!”

She had eyes in the back of her head! "What? I didn't do anything!" he complained.

Elliott was actually quite amused. Where Sam had picked up that little scene with the arms was anyone's guess but, he had to admit, it looked quite realistic. Despite it, he doubted Sam had any idea, at all, what smooching really entailed!

That was something he and Miguel had never much talked about.

Girls.

By this time, the two of them were discussing most things that interested them, but the subject of girls had only come up once. It had been at the beach earlier in the week. He’d been parked on a towel next to Miguel, working on his tan, and they had been watching a group of them.

“I’ll go and introduce myself!” Miguel had been brazen as they’d watched the posse of typically giggly girls, messing around in the shallow water, just in front of them. They looked a bit older than the two of them and, as Miguel deftly put it, had ‘not so little booby bits!‘

In comparison, the bikini bottoms on a couple of them were so scanty it was hardly worth wearing them! Elliot had to smile at that, though it didn’t really do much for him; probably a legacy of years of hanging around Latin American beaches, where you saw that kind of thing all the time.

He noticed that Miguel’s eyes followed a few of the girls with boyish interest when they were at the beach. His did too. But, those dark eyes tracked quite a few guys too. Miguel just loved watching people…that was clear.

With everyone’s plates stacked with pizza and Natty sound asleep, they reconvened for part two of the movie. Without hesitation this time, Elliott sank into the beanbag alongside Miguel, with a surprising hunger that would not be sated by slices of pizza. With satisfaction, he let the beans bring them back together.

Sharing a single enormous pile of food, Elliott became so engrossed by the movie that he was hardly aware that his leg had hooked over Miguel's. It had happened so naturally. By the time he became aware of it, the physical contact was intimate and extended. Still partly concentrating on the film, Elliott explored it. It brought him pleasure.

Looking back, even though he hadn't realised it at the time, he knew, without doubt, that it was during that evening that he had begun to physically bond with Miguel. Physical contact had never come naturally to him and he certainly wasn't the touchy-feely type. In comparison, as he discovered over the next few days, Miguel was really tactile.

That evening, as he sat scrunched in close to this one particular person, he felt OK with it. In fact, as he explored it, his body told him that, in a funny kind of way, he quite liked it…because it was Miguel. For a few moments, he tuned off from the movie and studied their bare feet in detail. Their toes were the same, though Miguel’s were browner and he needed to trim his nails. Where his leg crossed over just below Miguel’s knee he had a dusting of white hairs. That was new – he hadn’t realised he had hair on his legs yet.

That same leg passed up into his shorts and reminded him of the comfortable chocolate. It was then that he felt something. Even then – with the warm scent, the touch, and the fact that he had become more than a little aroused -he never actually made the connection as to what was happening with him. Or why.

The movie was quite good and, from that point on, he was riveted by it, though it had a poignantly sad ending. As it drew to the end, he glanced at Miguel, and noticed that tears were slipping helplessly down his cheeks.

You're crying...?

Out of the corner of his eye, he studied the secretive movement as Miguel rubbed a cheek dry. He had an urge to reach out and brush the rivulet away himself. Aware at last that he was being observed, Miguel turned his face slightly away. Watching the back of his neck and the tips of his ears, it was truly one of the few times that Elliott ever saw him flush.

It wasn't just that he WAS crying, it was that he COULD, that intrigued Elliott. He, on the other hand...well, he just didn't.

Inexplicably, and because it just felt the right thing to do, Elliott moved his arm from where it was resting behind his own head. He reached across and rubbed Miguel's dark hair - briefly and gently. It was an uncomplicated caress that carried tones of companionship and of playful amusement.

Busted, you softy, it declared!

Curling onto the just-visible corner of Miguel's mouth, he was rewarded by a small smile.

Afterwards, everyone was quiet. Contemplative; like you often are after a powerful movie. Even Sam had little to say as if the emotion had touched him too. Finally Rose stirred.

‘Come on you lot.” She tweaked Sam’s ear with her toe. “Time for a bath – and then bed! Can you pick up those sweet papers Sam, and then we should leave these nice people to enjoy the rest of the evening.”

Having slept earlier, Elliott wasn’t at all tired, and neither did he want to move from the beanbag, but did what he was told. “

See you tomorrow then,” He pulled himself out, and Miguel descended rapidly. Leaving him sprawled on the floor, he followed the rest of the Carter Clan down to the next floor. Back in their room, he discovered that his bed was still covered by piles of clothing. Sam was meant to be getting in the bath, but was dragging his heels as usual.

Why she felt she had to use his and Sam’s room he had no idea, but his Mom had brought in all the bags, containing the day’s shopping, into their room. She had unpacked most of it, and it was all being checked and refolded. Probably for the journey to America, where it was going to be shipped. Miguel’s mom would box it all up, and have it ready for the DHL pickup. The items would then be kept in storage until they arrived in Atlanta.

He stared at the chaos, a little irritated. What he suggested next was totally spur of the moment, though it had been coming for days.

"Why don't I just bunk in with Miguel?" He knew he hadn’t really thought it through, but why not? Miguel wouldn’t mind. Maybe they’d need to ask his parents...there was a mattress in the spare room…

"I'm sure that's not really necessary, sweetheart, we just..." his mom replied. As she spoke, she began to lift piles but was interrupted by Sam, who hadn’t heard the full conversation.

"That's not fair!” he squawked. “How come Elliott gets to sleepover? Why can't I?"

It was the use of the term 'sleepover' that caught her attention. During the times when Sam seemed to be able to worm his way into a different bed every weekend, Elliott knew she'd often tried to encourage him to socialise more; stay over at a friend's house like Sam did. It had been like getting blood out of the proverbial stone. He just couldn't be coaxed, whatever she tried.

He could see it in her face. A sleepover? Why not? Surely it had to be good for him?

Sam was still harping on. "Why can't I go too? I hardly ever get to do nice things!"

Spur of the moment, she changed her mind about letting Elliott go, even though Sam’s bed needed clearing too. "I don't think three of you together is going to work, Sam." She left Elliott’s bed and began to clear Sam’s instead. "This way you get your own room too," she added. “In the meantime, why don’t you go and run the bath?”

Damn right it's not going to work, added Elliott to himself.

Sam wasn't listening. "I don't care. I don’t wanna bath! i wanna go have a sleepover too. You can't stop me!"

Wanna bet?

"Sam..." said his mother, warningly.

"You ALWAYS do what HE wants!" Sam shouted angrily. "Why am I even HERE?"

"SAM," Rose barked. Elliott flinched.

Rose had had more than enough. "ENOUGH! If there’s room in Miguel’s room, Elliott can go. You're staying here. END OF! BATH…NOW!"

Sam was fuming and kicked out at a hapless bag of clothing, before turning his prepubescent wrath on his brother. "Piss off, then! Go and stay with your fucking boyfriend!"

The words hung in the air like drawn weapons and he was unable to sheath them. Prescient or just so pissed off, he didn't seem to know or care what he was actually saying. Elliott stared at him in surprise and then mounting anger. But his mother got there first.

"THAT'S A DISGUSTING THING TO SAY," she bellowed and, in the other room, Benedict cringed. Now what had Sam done?

She had gone red in the face with fury and Sam quailed, belatedly realising how far he'd overstepped the mark.

"I....I...." he stuttered, unable to stop tripping over an apology. But it was too late. It was his mum who wasn't listening now as she advanced on him. Even Elliott was scared.

With an effort, Rose put herself in check. She was lividly angry with her middle child, even to the point of lashing out. Not like this, she commanded herself. She needed to cool off first and she halted and then stepped away towards the door.

"Sam. You will stay here - on that chair, without moving one inch - and wait." Her voice was eerily calm. Scarier than the shouting. "Your father and I will be in shortly to deal with you. Do you understand me?"

Head hanging down, Sam seemed to nod.

"I said DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" she barked forcefully.

"Yes..." whimpered Sam, hurriedly, still staring at the floor.

With that, she marched out and left Elliott and Sam alone. Elliott was in almost as much shock as his brother and didn't know what to say, so he hurried out after her. His mom went to the living room, probably to speak to his dad, so he took himself into the kitchen and fretted. He knew Sam had done wrong, but....

Shortly after, his mum joined him in the kitchen, where he was sitting at the table, feeling like a spare part. He knew he'd been given permission to go and bunk with Miguel...but not like this. He watched her fill the kettle and potter around the room, doing unnecessary tasks. Clearly Sam was being left to stew.

"Do you want something to drink?" she offered. He shook his head.

"Mom," he began softly.

"Aren't you going upstairs to Miguel’s? You should really ask his parents about it." She was trying to appear relaxed, but he could hear the tension

"Can Sam say sorry?"

"You bet he will, sweetheart," she replied, glancing over to him. "What he said was..."

"...and then that be it," continued Elliott, interrupting her.

The flow of boiling water momentarily halted and she paused before continuing. Silently, she stirred sugar into one of the mugs of coffee and added milk. Dozens of conflicting thoughts were racing through her head. It came down to one thing, and she already guessed what he was going to say.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to let our holiday get spoiled...for any of us...even Sam. If everyone stays mad, it'll be horrible..."

Elliott was SO like his dad, she knew - and maybe she had to accept that the other two kids had a lot more of her rather fiery nature. Benedict led in a different way; finding consensus and keeping the team on track. Just like she sensed Elliott was doing now. She lifted a mug to her lips and sipped experimentally, watching him over the rim.

"Is that what you want?"

He nodded. He REALLY wanted to bunk with Miguel - but not like this. Not with this clouding his – and everyone else’s – sense of wellbeing.

Making a decision, his mum put the mug down. Wordlessly, he followed her back to their room. Sam hadn’t moved one inch, from where he was still sitting stiffly on the chair. Looking white as a sheet, he looked up fearfully as they entered. Standing at the door Rose felt another twinge of anger, but tried to put it down.

"Despite what your father and I have discussed, Sam, your brother seems to want to offer you more kindness and respect than you seem to prepared to give to him."

At the mention of Elliott, Sam glanced at him with a mixture of relief, confusion and not a little wariness. It wasn't long before he hung his head. "I'm sorry," he muttered. Then, almost shockingly, he began to shake and then sob, crying 'I'm sorry', time and time again.

For someone who, up until quite recently, was not a big fan of touchy feely contact, Elliott beat his mum to kneel in front of Sam and hold him, as the dam burst. Where the hell had this come from, he wondered as, now he’d started, Sam just couldn’t stop. The mother in Rose desperately wanted to scoop him up, but Sam seemed glued to Elliott.

The tears began to subside, but the brother in Elliott was fiercely protective – even with Sam. He still wanted to bunk wih Miguel, but tomorrow would do.

"Why don't me and you move this stuff of my bed?" he suggested. "We can pile it over there, on the floor."

"You're not going to Miguel?" Sam was still hiccupping through the odd sob.

"Tomorrow - yes, I will. If it’s okay with you. But it's getting late and I think I'll just stay here. Is that okay?"

Sam nodded hopefully and stood. "Sorry Mom," he added, tearful again. He wasn't the only one!

A little later, both boys were tucked into bed. Elliott was knackered – the emotions drawing all his energy – and was glad to slide under the sheets too.

"Elliott...?" Sam murmured, a few minutes later.

"Aha....?"

"If you like Miguel,” Sam whispered across the gloom, “it's alright with me."

"Of course I like him, dufus!" returned Elliott patiently.

Sam grinned in the darkness. "Double dufus back!" he sniggered.

Elliott sighed. "Go to sleep," he replied quietly.

He always remembered that passing comment from Sam, but had no idea if, for once, his brother actually happened to know what he was talking about! It was, however, the beginning of a change in Sam. Whilst he could still be an irritating toad, those moments became less and he almost became human!

Almost.