Chapter Four
Dave took one last look around the sitting room. He’d spent an hour dusting and cleaning, until everywhere was free of clutter, every polished surface gleamed, and anything that was glass sparkled.
He’s not the Queen on a royal visit.
Janine was their only visitor, and Dave never went to this much trouble. But ever since he’d woken that morning, he’d been… quivery. Chris had obviously noticed: he’d asked twice if Dave was okay before he left for school.
I feel as if I’m a teenager all over again. This was ridiculous. He was thirty-five, for God’s sake.
When the phone rang, he almost jumped out of his skin. It’s Jeff. He’s calling to cancel. Dave breathed easier when he saw Janine’s name. “Hi.”
“I haven’t called at a bad time, have I?”
“No, you’re fine. What’s up?”
“We’re going to be doing another gig a week on Saturday, and I wondered if you and Chris would like to come. It’s in a pub, but there are tables outside where you can sit.”
Dave reached for his diary. “What time?”
“We’re due to start at two o’clock. They serve food too, so I thought you could eat first. Do you think Chris would like that?”
He smiled. “He loves hearing you sing. Of course he will. Where’s the pub?”
“Near Regent’s Park. I’ll text you the details.”
Dave scribbled a note. “Okay, it’s a date.”
“Are you okay?”
He stilled. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. You sound kind of… flustered.”
Not her too. “I’m getting ready for a visitor.”
“Anyone I know?”
“No. I only met him at the weekend.”
Silence.
“Janine? You still there?”
“‘Him’? What’s his name?”
Dave gave an internal sigh. I should have kept my mouth shut.
The last couple of times he’d seen her, Janine had been pushing him oh-so-subtly in the direction of one of the band, Brendan the piano player.
Dave hadn’t told her in so many words to back off—after all she’d done for him and Matt, that would have been churlish—but he’d paid no attention to Brendan’s obvious flirting.
Knowing Janine, she probably put him up to it.
“His name’s Jeff.”
Before he could get another word out, she surged ahead. “Aw, you’ve just made my day. How long has this been going on?”
Christ. “Nothing is ‘going on’, as you put it. I met him on Sunday when I took Chris to Winter Wonderland. He was playing Santa, and Chris wanted to see him. Then we met up by accident later, and we got talking.” He wasn’t going to tell her about Monday’s market visit—she didn’t need more ammunition.
“And he’s coming to see you?”
Dave resisted the urge to growl. “It’s not what you think. He’s a builder, and we were talking about the house, so I asked if he’d like to see it.” Except it wasn’t that simple, and he knew it. And even as he uttered the words, he was aware of how lame he sounded.
“A builder, huh? What’s he like?”
“Like the rest of us—two arms, two legs, one head…”
She huffed. “You know what I mean. Is he good-looking?”
“Sis, you’re pushing.”
“That means he is.” She sounded gleeful.
Then he caught the sound of footsteps on gravel. Shit. “I have to go. He’s here.” Not that he knew that for sure—it could’ve been the postman—but he’d do anything to finish the call.
“Have fun!” Janine disconnected.
Dave took another glance at the room. It looks fine. Now breathe.
All he had to do was get his heart to calm down.
Jeff loved the house, and all he’d seen was its exterior.
The sand-coloured bricks glowed in the afternoon sun, which reflected in the countless leaded windows.
The steep sloping roof was topped by a fat chimney pot.
A double garage sat to the left. Large pots stood beneath the windows, filled with bright, red-leafed shrubs.
Iron gates cut off the house from the rest of the park: across from it lay an expanse of grass and trees, surrounded by railings.
This is beautiful.
He rang the doorbell, and a moment later, Dave opened it. “Hey. Come in.”
Oh my. Dave in jeans and a roll-neck burgundy sweater… Be still, my beating heart. Then he noticed the little white ankle socks. Damn, that’s cute.
Jeff saw the shoe rack by the door and immediately removed his boots. Dave held out a hand for his jacket, which he then hung on a hook over the shoes.
“You’re sure I’m not stopping you from working?” He’d had a few guilty pangs about that.
“Not at all. There’s coffee or tea. I thought I’d save the crumpets for after the tour.”
Jeff smiled. “You were being serious?”
Dave laughed. “Of course. Can’t have you thinking I got you here under false pretences.” He pointed to a door to the left of the staircase. “I might leave that room off the tour. That’s Chris’s bedroom. He can show you that if he wants.”
The light struck Jeff instantly. He stood in a long open space, the kitchen visible at the far end, and sunlight spilled in from windows and skylights, bouncing off the white walls. “I didn’t expect this.”
“Let me guess. You thought it would be something dark and Victorian.”
“Well, yes.” Every Victorian house he’d ever seen had been gloomy. They’d got it right with large front windows, but the backs had been tiny, allowing little light to enter.
“For one thing, you caught it perfectly. It’s been such a cold, damp morning, but you brought the sun with you.
” Dave smiled. “As soon as Matt’s great-grandmother had bought this place, she called in the builders, who gutted it.
They didn’t take everything—they left the fireplaces and a few other period features—and they added skylights, bathrooms, and a utility room.
And a huge garage, of course. There are three bedrooms, each with its own en suite.
Chris’s is the only one with a bath—the others have showers.
” He beckoned. “Let me show you around.”
Jeff followed him into the first room.
“This is the sitting room.” There were bay windows on two sides of the corner room, with two armchairs in one, and a couch in the other. An ornate fireplace was the focal point, an opaque glass screen in front of the grate.
“This doesn’t look lived-in,” Jeff murmured. There was little in the room apart from the furniture.
Dave coughed. “You didn’t see it last night.
” He pointed to a square archway, with bi-fold glass doors on either side.
“This is the dining room.” There was a well in the ceiling, on top of which sat a large pane of glass, flooding the area with light.
Directly below it sat a table with four chairs.
A unit stood to the left of the doors, a TV screen perched on top.
“I suppose this is where we spend most of our time. Well, here or in the kitchen.” He pointed to the French doors.
“There’s a small patio out there. The garden wraps around three-quarters of the house.
Not that it’s all that much of a garden.
Neither of us possessed a green thumb, so everywhere is gravelled over, with trees, and troughs and pots of shrubs.
And if it wasn’t for Kieran, they wouldn’t last long.
” Jeff gave him an inquiring glance, and Dave smiled.
“He’s our gardener. He doesn’t do much, just keeps the plants and shrubs from dying.
” He peered at Jeff. “Do you have a green thumb?”
Jeff snorted. “The only plant I have in my place is a snake plant.” Dave frowned, and he elaborated.
“It has long leaves that shoot up, it doesn’t care about light levels—which is a good thing: my flat has few windows, and they overlook someone else’s wall—and you actually have to let the soil get very dry between waterings.
It goes by another name that you’d appreciate. ” He grinned. “Mother-in-law’s tongue.”
Dave smothered a chuckle. “Saying nothing.”
He led the way through another arch and yet more bi-fold doors into the last room.
The kitchen had a white-painted vaulted ceiling, and at its apex was another skylight, comprising a long, raised centre section with little windows all around it, with its own metal roof, almost like a mini conservatory.
Another table and four chairs stood beneath it.
Dave pointed to the roof. “That was one of the features they preserved. I like it.”
“I love roof lanterns.”
“Is that what it’s called?” When Jeff smiled, Dave rolled his eyes. “Of course you’d know that.”
“We still install those nowadays, except they look more like glass pyramids. I prefer this.”
Jeff walked over to the leaded windows at the end, which overlooked the park, and peered through. “Great view.” He noted two dark green-covered shapes beyond the window. “It must be nice to sit out there in the summer.”
Dave joined him. “Chris called it Papa’s sunny spot. Every weekend he’d be out there, catching the rays.” Just then, the room darkened as thick clouds moved in to obscure the sun. “And suddenly we’re back in typical late November again.” He cleared his throat. “Would you like to see upstairs?”
“Please.” He followed Dave back to the front door, then up the staircase that folded back on itself. Two doors faced them.
“Both bedrooms have sloping ceilings, and head height is restricted in places.” Dave opened the door to the left. “This is the guest room.”
Jeff loved the square windows that filled one wall, another rectangular window about them.
There were no curtains, but shutters were fixed on the inside, each panel fitted with wooden blinds.
He glimpsed a bathroom through an open door.
It was another light-filled room, the white walls contrasting with the green of the trees outside that reached window level.
Mirrored doors filled one wall, which added to the illusion of space.
“My room is pretty similar, except the head of the bed sits under the windows.” Dave smiled. “Ready for some coffee?”
“Yes, please.” Jeff followed him down the stairs and into the dining room.
Dave crossed the floor to the stove and filled the kettle that sat beside it. He opened a stone jar and spooned coffee into a cafetiere.
“You weren’t kidding when you said this place has character.”
Dave nodded. “Now you can see why we love living here.”
Jeff could also see how it must’ve been difficult to live in a space he’d shared with Matt. There have to be so many memories here. He glanced at the wall behind him, where several framed photos had been arranged.
“It’s okay. You can take a look.”
Jeff went closer to peer at the images. There was a photo that was obviously Dave and Matt’s wedding day.
Another showed them in hospital gowns, Dave gazing at the baby he cradled, while Matt watched in obvious adoration.
A third showed Dave and Matt on either side of a heavily pregnant woman: they each had a hand on her belly, and they were kissing her on the cheeks. She seemed radiantly happy.
Dave joined him. He pointed to the photo. “That’s my sister, Janine.”
“Does she have kids of her own?”
Dave shook his head. “That’s what so amazing about her. She’s never wanted children, which some people can’t understand. But she said she’d carry a baby for us.” He smiled. “She said it was perfect—she got to hand Chris over to us. Having said that, she’s a fantastic aunt.”
Jeff returned to the wedding picture. It made his heart ache to think that the year after that photo had been taken, Matt was dead. He was a good-looking guy, with hair the same colour as Chris’s. The resemblance was obvious.
He couldn’t stop himself. “You kept these on the wall,” he murmured.
Dave sighed. “When he died, I thought about taking them all down. But back then, I imagined the pain of losing him would always be as it was then—raw and fierce. I’m glad to say it hasn’t been like that.
I still miss him, but the pain has become more of an ache.
And that’s the way it should be. I remember reading a quote that summed it up so perfectly, it’s stayed with me.
‘Grief never ends, but it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay.
It is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith. Grief is the price of love.’”
Jeff’s chest tightened. “You were right. That’s perfect.” Then he became aware of Dave’s scrutiny, and gave him a quizzical glance.
Dave stared at him. “I’ve known you for what, five minutes?”
Jeff got where he was heading. “Maybe they’re right about it being easier to share stuff with a stranger.”
“But you’re not a stranger, not anymore.” He inclined his head toward the kitchen. “Coffee should be ready.” He walked away.
Jeff understood Dave’s confusion. It was rare to meet a guy and share such a… connection, but he couldn’t deny its existence.
I want to know you better, Dave Hayland.