Illicit Affairs by Holly Dixon

Nine

The British countrysidewas always a welcome sight for Ava when she was constantly surrounded by stone and glass. It wasn’t that she didn’t adore her concrete jungle, it was just that there was something very freeing about driving through the rolling green hills that were patched with vibrant yellow fields of growing rapeseed flowers.

Ava’s chauffeur pulled through a set of grand gates fit for a castle as they drove up an avenue of majestic oak trees, the road lined with sunny daffodils and snowdrop flowers.

The Crestwell estate soon came into view, the ivy-covered manor showing off the ego of Mr. Archer, laid out in sandstone brick that sprung out from the well-manicured lawn as if it were insulted by the soil it sat on. The house was overly large and ostentatious to the point it was almost intimidating, but to Ava, this had been her home all along. The large rectangular windows were oversized, every room bathed in daylight from the first kiss of dawn to the twilight hours. The driveway was grandiose, sweeping into a wide circle in front of the stately home with an ornate fountain in its centre.

“Thank you, David,” Ava said to her driver as he carried her suitcase up the stone staircase that led to the front of her childhood home. Before her stood the large oak doors that were sheltered under a wide porch supported by stone pillars. One of the tall doors burst open as a man walked out into the late morning sun.

The gentleman wore a green tweed blazer over a button-down shirt and a pair of well-pressed sandy-coloured trousers. Despite his summery attire, his hair was turning to winter, greys fading into silver as time creased his handsome, yet slightly lopsided face. His right leg stepped forward while his left dragged behind, the walking stick he leant on tapping against the concrete tiles.

“Hello, little bug!” Mr. Archer beamed, stick pointing to the side as his arms extended wide.

Ava’s face burst into life as she ran like a child towards her beloved father and wrapped her arms around him. It may seem odd to some that this was their style of greeting after last seeing each other only just over a week ago, but Ava saw her dad every day and enjoyed his company so even a short period of time without seeing him had felt longer than she’d care to admit. Also, being the eldest daughter, she felt a certain level of responsibility to keep an eye on her father and make sure he was well.

“Oh, I missed you, old man!” Ava cooed, squeezing her arms tightly around him before easing off when she felt the tap of his cane against her leg.

“Steady on you with the ‘old man’,” he chuckled, his voice personifying the British summertime. “I might be going grey, but I’ve still got youth in me yet!”

Ava wasn’t sure if it was the time spent apart or the fact that her father was still healing from his trauma, but something about him felt older and more fragile since last they met.

“Yes, boss!” Ava laughed, saluting her dad in their usual bantering way. “How are you feeling? How’s the leg?”

“I’m perfectly fine, bored out of my mind in this big bloody house with your two squabbling sisters driving me barmy!” he jested, placing his hand onto Ava’s shoulder and guiding her through the grand doors of the house that creaked and echoed into the main atrium of the building. “Speaking of which, don’t mention Suzy’s hair…” her dad warned with a grimacing shake of his head.

“Why? What’s wrong with Suzy’s hai—”

Suddenly a set of doors burst open from her right and a tall woman with a sharp black bob greeted her. “Ava! You’re bloody late, brunch is going cold!” Heather huffed, a polka-dotted apron wrapped around her thin frame. “Get your arse through here!” she barked, disappearing back through the doors but not before poking her head through them again and adding, “Oh, and for the love of God, do not mention Suzannah’s hair!”

After spendingthe afternoon with her father, reassuring him that everything was all rainbows and sunshine at his firm, Ava was now sprawled across her youngest sister’s bed ranting about her new boss and the week from hell she had had. She lay staring up at the high ceiling with her legs dangling over the side of the four-poster bed.

“He sounds like Christian Grey,” Suzannah giggled, making Ava’s eyebrows lower into an unamused expression as she propped herself up on her elbows and glared at her youngest sibling who was still at college studying fashion.

“Why do people keep referencing that bloody movie?!” Ava chided, shaking her head and crossing her arms. “I wish he was Jamie Dornan; I’d climb that man like a tree.”

“Ava!” Both of her sisters gawked at her.

“What? I bloody would!” she scoffed as the three of them burst out into laughter that slowly faded. “Not to point out the elephant in the room but speaking of fifty shades of grey…” Ava winced as she pointed at Suzannah’s hair.

“It was meant to be ash-blonde, not grey!” Suzannah whined, slapping at Ava’s knees before throwing herself face down onto her bed and squealing into the quilted sheets.

“I’m teasing, poppet. I’m sure the salon will sort it out on Monday, but hey, blonde suits you!” Ava soothed, patting Suzy’s back.

“Not everyone can possess the golden child gene,isn’t that right, Ava?” Heather teased as she swung upon a hanging loveseat in the corner of the room. It was an ongoing tease between her sisters that Ava was the only blonde in the family, but apart from that, Suzannah and Heather enjoyed winding her up about being Daddy’s favourite.

“Envy isn’t a good look on you, dear sister,” Ava retorted with a smirk.

“Neither is that outfit,” Heather bit back, causing Ava to drop her jaw in offence.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?”

“You look like a thirty-year-old single mother who drives her ex-husband’s Range Rover.”

“I do not!”

“You kinda do,” Suzy chipped in, her voice muffled with her face still planted.

Outraged at this, Ava got up and peered at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t understand how her peach blazer, white loose-fitting shirt, and high-waisted jeans made her look like a divorced mother, especially with her lips painted red.

“I think it looks chic,” Ava said defensively, shrugging.

“No, darling sister, this is chic,” Heather sighed, coming up behind Ava to remove her blazer, tuck her shirt into the waistband of her skinny jeans, and then roll Ava’s sleeves up to her elbows.

“You need a belt for that waist,” Suzannah added as she stepped in to loop a brown leather belt around Ava’s slim centre.

“Honestly, you pair,” Ava sighed but had to admit that her sisters were right. The ensemble did look better with their fashionably skilled touch. Ava didn’t have bad taste in dress sense at all, but compared to both her fashionista sisters, she had no chance.

Once the sisterly antics had died down, dinner was being served, which smelled like a delicious Sunday roast despite it being Saturday. Fatty, smoked, and succulent aromas filled the hallways of the large house as the trio made their way downstairs.

“So, tell me, have you split up with my future husband yet?” Heather teased.

“For the last time, Peter and I are not an item.” Ava rolled her eyes, her hand grasping the dark wood of the bannister at the bottom of the stairs as she swung around it out of old habit.

“Suzy said you guys shagged last night—becoming quite the regular occurrence, don’t you think?”

“Keep it down!” Ava hissed, not wanting her father to know of the raunchy misconduct happening behind his back in his office. “It’ll be the last time it happens; he offered to make breakfast again…” She bared her teeth at Heather, who was only a year younger than Ava and less naive as Suzannah, who still didn’t agree with Ava’s a-romantic outlook on life.

“Again?” Heather mirrored Ava’s expression, walking through the large hallways as the aroma of dinner grew stronger. “Well, if you’re pulling the plug with Peter, I call dibs. You can go on the prowl forJamie Dornan,” she jested as Ava peered back at Heather from over her shoulder.

“Or I could just fuck my current boss!” Ava joked, her shoulders shrugging up with a whimsical expression on her face before she turned around and stopped dead as she smacked hard up against a muscular roadblock. A squeak left her lips as she timidly peered up and stared into restless pools of honey that sent heat flaring to the surface of her face.