Chapter 4
He’d spent the last leg of his journey going back over his conversation with Peg.
Thinking about all the things she’d said, and all the things he’d said.
Realising that, as he drove, he was smiling.
That he could still see her face, and hear her voice.
That her black hair, shot through with silver, was in plaits, for goodness’ sake, and he’d meant to say how much they suited her.
How her mince pies were the best he’d ever eaten…
But most of all he’d thought about what she’d said as she was leaving.
What he couldn’t be sure about, but what he hoped might have been some sort of an invitation.
She’d told him where her house was, but what was the rest of it?
Just c— was all he’d heard. Was she telling him to come over?
And if it wasn’t that, what else could it have been?
He swiped a hand over his face and slowed the car, wondering whether he should pull over for a moment, but the clock was ticking.
And the one thing he absolutely could not be, was late.
And so Henry drove the last couple of miles trying to thrust thoughts of Peg from his head and turn them instead to the days ahead of him.
To all the things he should say, and do, to ensure that everything would go according to plan.
To ensure that his son wouldn’t think any less of him, and that another invitation to visit might be forthcoming.
Christmas might be something of a trial, but the alternative – not seeing his son at all – would be infinitely worse.
The front door opened before Henry had even finished getting out of the car, and any hopes he had that Adam had rushed out to greet his father out of pure affection were dashed the moment Henry received his perfunctory hug.
‘Great, you made good time in the end then?’ Adam didn’t wait for a reply. ‘Let me grab your bag. Is it in the boot? Dinner’s just about to be served.’
Henry nodded, unmoving, and feeling a little dazed.
Even without the milieu of thoughts about Peg swirling around his head, he was still tired from his journey – a journey which had gone from two and a half hours to just over five, and all of them cooped up in the car.
He couldn’t work out if his legs felt leaden or like jelly.
He fetched his coat from the back seat, locked the car and slowly followed Adam up the path.
‘Let me take your jacket, Dad,’ said Adam once they were inside. ‘You know where we are, just through here.’ He pointed towards the vast kitchen which led into the dining room.
Henry licked his lips. The heat was stifling. ‘I could do with a quick pit stop, if that’s okay? Long drive… I’m desperate for the loo.’
‘Right… yes, of course. Well, you know where that is, too. I’ll just go and…’ He didn’t finish the sentence, leaving Henry alone.
With a resigned smile, Henry pulled open the door to the cloakroom and stepped inside.
He wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find Adam waiting for him, ready to whisk him away once he’d finished washing his hands, but, mercifully, the hallway was empty, save for the array of coats and shoes stored neatly in a purpose-built unit, and copious decorations, of course.
A huge swathe of greenery and baubles snaked its way up the banister.
A wreath matching the one on the front door hung on the inner doorway to the living room and a small, twinkling tree stood on an oak console table with a tasteful tableau of frosted pine cones and berries beside it.
His bag, he noted, stood on the floor at the foot of the staircase.
Straightening his jumper and hanging up his scarf, Henry rolled his shoulders around and stretched out his neck before walking through to the kitchen, the largest smile he could muster fixed on his face.
‘Sofia… hello.’ She turned from the island unit where she was standing arranging vegetables in a serving dish. He walked forward to greet her, kissing her on the cheek as was customary. ‘Merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas,’ she replied, turning back. ‘Adam, could you take these to the table, please?’ She handed her husband the dish. ‘Come and sit down, Henry, the food’s ready.’
‘Good job the traffic got moving when it did then,’ he said.
Adam stepped forward. ‘What was it in the end?’ he asked. ‘Did you find out what caused the stoppage?’
Henry was about to make a joke about it being Breakfast Room Green, when he stopped himself. They wouldn’t understand and he didn’t want to explain. He shook his head. ‘No idea. There didn’t seem to be anything obvious when I drove on. Just one of those things, I guess.’
Adam took the dish of vegetables.
‘I’m just thankful it wasn’t an accident,’ added Henry. ‘That doesn’t bear thinking about, especially at this time of year. Losing a few hours is nothing compared with losing a life, is it?’
Sofia looked at Adam. ‘No, of course not. Come and sit down before the food gets cold.’
Henry stared at his heaped plate. Under other circumstances it would have looked lovely, but Henry felt rushed and ill prepared to eat a large meal only minutes after stepping from his car.
Plus, perhaps foolishly, he had taken the edge off his appetite by sharing Peg’s sandwiches and eating several of her mince pies – both things he was perfectly within his rights to do.
A flicker of irritation soured his stomach.
‘You really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble, Sofia,’ he said. ‘This looks lovely, but you must have been cooking for hours.’
‘Nonsense. I know how much you enjoyed the poussin last year,’ she replied. ‘And I’m not having you come all this way with just beans on toast to greet you at the other end. Besides, Adam and I always eat a proper dinner.’
Henry nodded and picked up his knife and fork. ‘Well, thank you. It looks wonderful.’ He cut up a small amount of meat and popped it in his mouth. The mushroom sauce was incredibly rich; laden with wine and heavy with cream. ‘Mmm, tastes it, too.’ He nodded. ‘You both look well.’
‘Tell him about your promotion,’ said Sofia, smiling at her husband.
And just like that, all mention of his journey was over.
However much he was proud of his son, he didn’t particularly want to listen to his news just now.
What he wanted to do was tell them about Peg, about her husband, and what the festive season meant for her.
How hard it must be, and weren’t he and Adam and Sofia lucky to be alive and healthy and together and…
But he wouldn’t tell them any of those things, so he just smiled, told Adam it was wonderful news and took another mouthful of food.
‘Of course, it isn’t just the money,’ said Sofia a few minutes later. ‘Although it’s absolutely what Adam deserves. It’s the recognition of how hard he works. Plus, it’ll mean a lot less time in the classroom, wasting hours dealing with bad behaviour and sorting out stupid squabbles.’
Henry frowned. ‘But I always thought you enjoyed the classroom?’ he said. ‘Didn’t you say it was why you went into teaching in the first place, not to push around bits of paper?’
‘Yes, but ideology will only get you so far,’ replied Adam.
‘And that was when I was fresh from training, and far too naive. Teaching isn’t like it was when you started, Dad.
Things are different now, and whether you agree with it or not, paperwork is a massive part of the job. Exam results, league tables…’
‘I’m still teaching,’ replied Henry mildly. ‘I understand all that.’
‘You lecture, Dad, it’s very different. Schools are all about performance, and taking on the role of Head of Humanities now, as well as English, will mean I get to really shape the curriculum, to correct all the strategies that have been holding us back and put new ones in place.
I’ll be helping to take the school to the next level, and in terms of my career that can only be a good thing. ’
Henry sliced a green bean in half, wondering how to phrase what he wanted to say. Or, rather, how to hold back what he wanted to say and still appear supportive.
‘Well, that all sounds very exciting. Well done.’
‘You could be a little more enthusiastic.’ Adam was staring at him, a challenging look on his face. It was a look which Henry was beginning to see more and more these days.
‘No, I’m really happy for you,’ he replied, determined not to bite. ‘But I’m also very tired. It’s been a long, slow journey over and your old man’s not as young as he used to be. As long as you’re happy, I’m more than pleased. It’s a great position to attain.’
‘Of course I’m happy, why wouldn’t I be?’
Henry deliberately filled his mouth with food so he couldn’t reply, instead giving a nod of acknowledgement.
‘Plus…’ said Sofia. ‘You remember our friends from Cheltenham?’
‘The ones who come to the theatre on Boxing Day?’
She nodded. ‘They’ve not long secured a villa in Spain on a new development and there are a couple of plots left, apparently. We think we might take a look after Christmas. I quite fancy being able to jet off over there whenever we want to.’
Henry stole a look at her as he lifted his wine glass. She was positively glowing. ‘Well, let’s drink to that then,’ he said, raising a toast to them both. ‘Sounds wonderful.’
‘It’s a little better than two weeks trudging around a rain-sodden campsite, anyway,’ added Sofia, smiling sweetly.
Now that hurt. Those were Adam’s childhood holidays, not hers. Holidays which Adam had always seemed to enjoy, which they had all enjoyed. Henry sipped his drink and forced in another mouthful of food. ‘And how about you, Sofia? How’s life in the world of interior design?’
The poussin was followed by a plum tarte tatin, and by the time the meal was finished, Henry was feeling nauseous.
The food was too heavy and the heat in the room unbearable.
And it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet – there were hours to go before he could retire to his room.
He found himself wishing that Adam had a dog so that he might offer to take it for a walk.
Linda had got custody of theirs, and he missed Meg dreadfully.
Her gentle, undemanding presence and her silken ears and coat so soothing in times of stress.
It wasn’t just that though; the thought of cold, dark and quiet streets was suddenly rather appealing.
‘We’re having a few neighbours over in an hour or so,’ said Adam, as they moved from the dining room into the living room.
‘Not for long, just for a couple of drinks and a few nibbles. We thought having a party on Christmas Eve might be a bit much for Blanche this year, so we’re having our usual get-together tonight instead.
’ He lowered his voice. ‘Between you and me, she’s struggling a little with her hearing.
And then tomorrow, there’s our annual lunch at the golf club.
I’m not sure Blanche will want to come to that either, but you’re invited, obviously.
And if you don’t fancy it, I’m sure Blanche will be glad of the company. ’
Henry sank onto the sofa which, out of the two in the room, was slightly further away from the roaring log burner. ‘Oh, right, that sounds lovely.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Could I possibly have a glass of water?’