Chapter 25 #2
Warm though our kisses were, eventually the cold air began to inveigle its way into our clothes and shoes, and we decided, reluctantly, that it was time to go home.
‘It’s getting dark,’ said Nick. ‘But look.’ He stooped down to Steve and fiddled with his collar until a bright red light came on. ‘Now, he can have another run and we shouldn’t lose him.’
He unclipped the lead and the big dog bounded off with his customary enthusiasm, every blade of grass seeming to hold some ineffable excitement.
Nick wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and we walked the short distance back to the car slowly, despite the cold.
When we were nearly there, he called for Steve, but there was no rustling in the leaves, no bark in response.
‘Where has that dog got to?’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, I think we’d better walk back.’
We started back quietly, listening out for him, but a flash of red light caught our eye first, before his mournful whines came to our ears. Veering off the path towards the noise, we found him.
‘Oh, that silly dog,’ said Nick. ‘Not again!’
For Steve had managed to wriggle his way inside a bush and, apparently, had no inkling of how to extract himself.
‘This is where we started,’ I said, crouching down and shining my phone’s torch into the space. ‘At least he has a nice sense of how to bookend a story. I think I can get in – can you hold my phone?’
Once again, I got down on all fours and crawled into the bush behind Steve, who greeted me with the relief and ecstasy of someone who has been trapped for months, rather than seconds.
‘Come on, you,’ I said and, grabbing his collar, I guided him in the right direction. Soon we were all back on terra firma, as it were, and Nick was clipping Steve’s lead firmly back on.
‘At least we’re getting in practice for kids,’ said Nick, as we started walking again. ‘Surely a toddler can’t be this much trouble?’
I didn’t reply, but the feeling of blissful warmth that suffused me was more than enough to chase away the coldest of evenings.
When we arrived back at Lyonscroft, we found a group of people at the foot of the driveway by the wall. I stopped the car and Nick wound down his window.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘That’s my house up there, can I help you?’
A young woman smiled at him and said, ‘Yes, we were wondering whether it would be okay to go up?’ She shook a collecting tin. ‘We’re singing carols for charity.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Nick. ‘Do come on up. I know my grandmother would love to hear you.’
As we parked, I couldn’t help grinning.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked Nick.
‘Just thinking back to a few short weeks ago when I fear those poor carol singers would have been given short shrift,’ I said.
‘And all the years that my father would have done the same,’ said Nick grimly. ‘Looks like I was more like him than I realised.’
‘But you shut Christmas out for very different reasons from your father,’ I said. ‘Didn’t you? I mean, you were trying to grit your teeth and get through things. Why did he hate it so much?’
Nick shrugged.
‘I’ve thought about it over the years. When I was a child, I was too scared of him to question anything, even to myself, and when I asked Astrid, she said that we’re all different and wouldn’t be drawn any further. I haven’t thought about it for years, to be honest, but this year…’
He broke off, staring out of the windscreen and biting his lip. I reached across and laid my hand over his.
‘This year?’
‘This year, when I went away for a few days, I decided to try and think about it all. It’s hard…
it’s hard for me to feel any forgiveness or understanding for my father, as if by doing that I’m somehow condoning the way he behaved.
But I think – maybe you will understand this better than I can – I think that his grief over losing my mother must have been so agonising that he shut down.
Shut down all his feelings of misery but also of joy, as if feeling anything at all was too painful.
And he made sure that everyone else did the same. ’
I glanced over to the front door, which was now open, and heard the strains of ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ from the carol singers.
‘I do understand that,’ I said. ‘I did the same thing myself. It seemed easier.’
‘But you coped by caring for others,’ said Nick.
‘My father coped by becoming cruel. He treated me with disdain and sent me away, making it clear that my only usefulness was as his heir. He blew hot and cold with Victoria, showering her with presents one moment and telling her she was a nuisance the next. No wonder she can’t bond with her own child.
And as for poor Astrid, he never should have married her at all, but then he refused her a baby.
’ He turned to me, his face bleak in the darkness.
‘I had forgotten or ignored so much, but I did some real soul searching. She was a great mother to Victoria and me, but she so wanted a baby of her own. Thank God that the minute the old bugger died, she met Art and got pregnant.’
‘Shame it didn’t work out with India’s dad.’
‘A huge shame. He was great.’ Nick sighed. ‘Ah well, plenty of water under every bridge. Shall we go inside?’
I nodded. It had got very cold in the car and the carol singers had moved into a four-part harmony of ‘O Come, All Ye Faithful’, which I wanted to hear.
With Steve on a short lead, we slipped around the side of them to stand in the doorway with the rest of the family and applauded vigorously when the final strains of the music finished.
‘Do come inside,’ said Astrid. ‘It’s so cold out here, which isn’t good at all for your lovely voices, and you can warm up before you go on to your next house.’
They nodded eagerly and were ushered into the sitting room by Nick, while Angela helped Marilise and wondered aloud what drinks everyone would like. There was one singer, though, who held back, a tall man in a woolly hat. I was shutting the door as Astrid hurried off to the kitchen.
‘Do come in,’ I said. ‘No need to take off your shoes.’
‘It’s not that,’ he said, then surprised me by suddenly calling, ‘Astrid!’
She turned around and saw the man, who had been standing quietly at the back of the group. All the colour drained from her face, and she clutched at the wall as if to stop herself falling.
‘Art?’ she gasped. ‘I thought you were in Argentina.’
I looked again at the man. So this was Art, India’s father and Astrid’s lost love. I started to edge towards the sitting room door, feeling very much like a third wheel.
‘I was,’ he said. ‘I wanted to surprise India, but Astrid… it is you I have been longing to see for too many years.’
I could barely tear my eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of me as I groped half-heartedly for the door handle.
Art stepped forward hesitantly and lifted his arms. Astrid stepped into his embrace, laying her head on his shoulder as tears streamed down her face and into his wool overcoat.
Finally, I opened the door and stepped into the room.
‘So, that’s nine mulled wines, three hot apple juices, two coffees and a tea,’ Angela was saying. ‘Ah, Laura, what would you like?’
‘Mulled wine, please,’ I said, then lowering my voice, told her what was happening in the hallway outside. Her face was suffused with happiness and her eyes glistened.
‘A Christmas miracle,’ she said. ‘India, love, come and help me, would you? We’ll go through the garden – I’ll explain on the way.’
As they left through the French windows, I went to sit with Nick and Marilise.
‘What was all that about?’ she asked, her sharp eyes having missed nothing.
‘India’s father was one of the carol singers,’ I said. ‘He and Astrid are catching up.’
She smiled and nodded, as if the fates had obeyed a command of hers.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Things do work out as they should, you know, no matter how much time passes or how much water flows under the bridge.’
Hearing the same expression he had used in the car, I glanced up at Nick. His eyes held my gaze.
‘To every thing there is a season,’ he said softly.
Marilise grasped for our hands.
‘That’s right,’ she said, then continued the passage. ‘A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance. And I think now is the time for laughing and dancing, is it not?’
As Astrid and Art entered the room, Angela and India with them, beaming with happiness as they handed round drinks to the assembled company, I couldn’t have agreed more.