The sound from downstairs woke him. The usual raucous fracas of the kids getting ready for school and Anna getting ready for her pilates or spin class, or whatever she did on Thursdays was close to a mini riot. There was no way he would be getting back to sleep with all that going on.
He'd slept in one of the guest rooms last night so as not to wake her but hadn't showered, so he wandered into the en-suite bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked haggard, but felt good. He replayed the twenty four hours in his mind: Closing the deal, Savage Garden, Marcus talking about selling, his time with Susan. It had been an epic day by any measure.
Post shower he went downstairs in his dressing gown and slippers feeling like a master of the universe. "Why can't you just pass me the cereal?"
"It's right there, why can't you get it yourself?"
"Ergh! You're such an idiot!" Catherine stomped around her brother, who was sat at the breakfast bar munching on his Coco Pops and quietly sniggering at successfully irritating his older sister.
"Morning everyone."
"Morning Dad."
He spotted his wife standing beyond the kitchen's vast island by the coffee machine, watching him over her mug as she sipped. Black activewear leggings, white oversized sweatshirt, and white OnCloud trainers, it was Spin class day. She was looking at him with that blank expression she wore when he'd been out all night. He gave her his best smile and walked over to her kissing each of the children along the way.
He gave her a peck on the cheek. She didn't flinch, remaining ice cold, "So?" And looked at him from the corner of her eye, still holding her mug in both hands. "How did it go?" He couldn't help but smile and nod his head slowly, enjoying feeling the big man for a minute.
"It went well...very well," he paused to try to build tension. "We got it." She put her mug down slowly and hugged him for the briefest of moments.
"I'm happy for you," she said and then walked around to play referee to the children. Sebastian's shoulders dropped deflating him somewhat.
"You know that means this year's bonus will probably be three times larger than last year's," and last year's was pretty damn decent to start.
"That's nice darling, we're all very proud of you. Sam, pick up your bowl and put it in the sink. Do not leave it like that. And you've got PE today—have you packed your kit? I'm not dropping it around again..." There was a time she would have dropped to her knees having heard news like that, but these days it was harder and harder to get anything out of her other than annoyance and irritation. He turned on the milk foamer.
"Hello darling, how are you?" Anna said, lifting her voice like an opera singer. She certainly wasn't talking to him with such glee. She never talked to him with anything even close to glee. Nigel must had come down and dragged himself into the kitchen. Nigel, her loser younger brother, who had now inherited all her warmth and affection. Affection once reserved for the man whose hard work and talent Nigel had so shamelessly mooched off.
Sebastian watched as his wife gently guided the thirty-two-year-old man-child to a seat at the breakfast bar and settled him down as if he was terminally ill. Nigel had long unkempt hair, a few days of unkempt growth on his face, and was wearing an old music t-shirt and pyjama shorts under a revolting brown dressing gown that he never seemed to be out of. The kids dispersed, bidding farewell to Uncle Nigel.
Anna fussed around him making him his tea and toast while he sat running his hands through his hair and yawning himself awake. "Morning Sebastian, how are you?"
"I'm good, thanks," Sebastian walked over and joined him at the breakfast bar.
"Aren't you working today?"
"I'll go into the office later," he wanted to add, "You'd understand if you had a job, you work-shy, useless piece of shit. If you ever got your lazy fucking ass out of my house and found yourself one, then maybe, just maybe you'd feel good enough about yourself to stop letting your big sister mother you and finally move the fuck out of my guest house," but instead he passed him the jam and one of the kid's unused knives.
"Nigel is going to go out for a walk today, aren't you darling," said Anna, cooing like a loving matron.
"I'm not sure Anna, my anxiety is really high this morning," Nigel said dampening Anna's enthusiasm. Sebastian rolled his eyes. Anna caught him and glared.
"Oh go on Nigel, it will do you good. It's going to be a lovely day, and you know what they say: motion creates emotion and all that. It's time you started getting yourself out there more. The world needs to see more of you." He shot a glance at Anna, but he'd over corrected; she shot back a cynical half smile.
"Oh, I don't know Sebastian. After Jessica left, I just..." He trailed off.
"Don't you think it's time you made some steps to move on?" Nigel nodded and then buried his head in his hands. Anna brought him his tea and glared at Sebastian. He gestured remorse at her, but it didn't land.
"There you go, have a cup of tea." Nigel looked up.
"Is it oat milk?" he asked.
"Of course it is."
"Thanks. I might take this upstairs. I can feel a migraine coming on." Anna and Sebastian watched him shuffle off out of the room and up the stairs.
"Why do you have to be like that with him?" snapped Anna. "Bringing up Jessica all the time, you know how sensitive he is. He's not over her." She started backing away the breakfast things. Sebastian swiped Nigel's untouched toast as she moved his plate.
"Oh come on Anna, it's been a year. A fucking year. It's not like she died, OK. She just had enough of the mope and shacked up with someone who doesn't cry at Christmas ads."
"She left him for a vet, that's hardly Rambo!"
"It is compared to Nigel," murmured Sebastian.
"He's always been sensitive. He takes things to heart. He has emotions and feelings. Not that you would understand, you're, you're... just a heartless fucking robot who only cares about work and money and getting more." She was loading the dishwasher so aggressively Sebastian didn't think they'd have any plates left.
"Well someone around here has to worry about money. Who's going to pay for your freeloading brother for the next six months?" Anna looked at him as if she was about to hurl a plate at his head. "Look, all I mean is that maybe it's time for some tough love, okay. I don't think you are helping him by indulging him like this. He needs to stand up on his own two feet, be a man about things, take control of his life."
"He's delicate," she snapped back. "He doesn't respond to tough love." She emphasised the last two words, slammed the dishwasher shut and stormed out. Sebastian stood alone in his kitchen holding a cold piece of toast. He wondered when, after everything he'd achieved, he'd start feeling like a winner.