Chapter 5
‘Daddy, my hands are cold!’ Luca’s plaintive wail was beginning to shred the last of Marc’s patience as they made their way back home.
The walk seemed to take about ten times longer than it had on the way to the village.
The sun had gone in and it was approaching four o’clock in the afternoon.
The dull, winter twilight crept through their layers of clothes as they trudged, making them all shiver, despite the sustenance of the hot drinks and cookies from Hope’s Café.
‘Where are your gloves?’ Marc asked as he realised that Luca wasn’t wearing them. He stopped and rubbed Luca’s little hands between his, but the boy’s fingers were red from the chill.
‘Dunno.’ Luca shrugged. Marc kicked himself for not realising they were a pair short before they’d left the café.
He’d text his brother later and ask him to pop in and grab them.
It was yet another thing he’d had to learn on this lone parenting journey – check, double-check and triple-check that the boys had everything they left the house with!
‘Here,’ he said, pulling off his own gloves. ‘Put these on.’
‘Your hands’ll get cold, Daddy.’
‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll be all right.’ Marc gave his son a reassuring smile. ‘We’ll just have to walk a bit faster, won’t we!’
‘Stupid,’ Liam muttered, and as they reached the quiet lane that led to the lake, he ran past his brother and punched him on the arm.
‘Liam!’ Marc barked. ‘I’ve told you already. Stop hitting your brother.’
‘Baby, baby, you’re just a baby,’ Liam taunted from the safety of a few feet ahead. ‘Can’t even get dressed properly…’
Luca’s eyes filled with tears, and Marc felt his heart ache. Both boys were expressing their feelings sporadically, and in completely different ways. Guilt washed over him again about not being able to mediate between them when they squabbled.
‘It’s all right,’ he murmured to Luca. ‘Just ignore him. He doesn’t mean it.’
‘Yes, he does,’ Luca muttered mutinously. ‘He’s always calling me a baby, just ’cos I’m ten minutes younger than him. I hate him!’
‘No, you don’t,’ Marc protested, shocked by the vehemence of his younger son’s tone.
‘Yes, I do. I wish it was just you and me, Dad.’
‘No. Don’t ever say that.’ Glancing up the path to make sure Liam was still in sight, Marc dropped down to speak eye to eye with his upset son.
‘You and Liam might not always get on at the moment, but you’ll always have each other.
Never forget that. One day, you’ll look back on this and laugh at the way he teased you. ’
Luca gave him a very astute pull the other one look, and Marc couldn’t help smirking.
‘Well, all right, maybe you won’t. But you will get on better one day than you do now.
I promise. Uncle Noah and I used to have some real scraps when we were kids and look at us now – we even live in the same village! ’
‘What about Uncle Joel?’
Marc gave a short laugh. ‘Well, Uncle Joel was even worse.’ And he still is, he added inwardly; Joel never saw eye to eye with anyone.
‘I wish Mummy was here.’
The despair in Luca’s tone made Marc pull his son towards him in a tight bear hug. ‘I know.’ He swallowed hard before adding, ‘So do I.’
Marc glanced up the path again and saw Liam poking a pile of horse manure with a twig he’d found.
Obviously a recent addition, the poo was still steaming.
Not a bad metaphor for how I’m feeling right now, Marc thought.
But this wasn’t the time to admit that. The boys needed him to be strong.
He might break down occasionally on his own, but while they were awake and with him, he needed to be their rock.
‘Come here, Liam,’ he said firmly.
Sulkily, his older son mooched back.
‘Apologise to your brother for calling him a baby and punching him.’
Liam looked sullen but didn’t say anything.
‘Liam…’ Marc warned.
‘You always take his side!’ Liam shouted. ‘He lost his gloves, not me!’ Liam ran off in the direction of home again, not looking back.
Marc got to his feet and tried to give Luca a reassuring smile. ‘It’ll be all right. I’ll speak to him again when we get home.’
But as they both hurried after Liam, who in his bright red winter coat made a vivid splash of colour against the dun and dull brown winter landscape, Marc knew he’d failed again.