Chapter 9
CHRISTMAS DAY
Henry swung his legs over the side of the bed and groaned.
Not at his body’s reaction to sleeping on a mattress which was much harder than his own, or his head’s reaction to the wine he had drunk the night before, but the fact that there were still two more activity-packed days to be got through, both filled with food and people.
And he had little appetite for either. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the lines underneath his eyes, the stubble on his chin and the sag of the skin beneath.
He felt tired and old. Merry Christmas, Henry.
Even when he was a child he had mixed feelings about Christmas Day.
The day couldn’t come soon enough for all his friends – it was all they thought about, talking about the countless hours they lay awake on Christmas Eve, unable to sleep with excitement.
But all Henry had longed for was the quiet solitude of Boxing Day.
Not that he didn’t enjoy Christmas Day, he did, but the day after was always so peaceful.
His parents had been happy to let him do his own thing, and for Henry, that mostly meant reading.
Of course, as he got older and had a child of his own, he realised that the day after Christmas was also the day to relax, safe in the knowledge that another one had been successfully navigated, expectations had been fulfilled and the stress of the season could take a back seat.
So throughout his life, it had always been thoughts of the calm oasis to come which had sustained him through the madness of the big day itself.
This year, however, like all the others in his recent past, there would be no quiet interlude to look forward to, and tomorrow would be just as crazy as today.
The fact that his son didn’t follow the traditions of his youth also grated on him enormously, but there was nothing he could do about it, except comply.
He glanced at the clock beside his bed. It was time to get moving.
When he arrived in the kitchen, preparations for the day were already well underway.
He desperately wanted a coffee, but one look at Sofia’s face convinced him that he could wait.
Breakfast would not be served for another hour yet, a lavish affair, and given the quantity of food they would be eating later, in Henry’s eyes an unnecessary one.
But Sofia would not be deterred and so that was that.
‘Morning!’ He smiled brightly, nodding at Adam, who was standing in the dining room, peering at their long oak table and another smaller one which now sat beside it. ‘Happy Christmas,’ he added.
‘Happy Christmas, Henry,’ replied Sofia, moving past him. Her reply was perfunctory at best, and Henry realised you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.
‘This is ridiculous, Adam,’ she said. ‘Having ten people for brunch is not extravagant these days and yet house builders insist on making dining rooms such poky little places.’
There was nothing poky about Sofia’s dining room. Theirs was a modern house, and designed around the type of open-plan living that was so popular at present. Compared to Henry’s house, and therefore the house which Adam had grown up in, it was positively palatial.
‘I’ve made the slip covers for the chairs especially for today, so thankfully the fact we have mismatched seats won’t be so evident.
As long as you don’t look too hard, that is.
But what is the point of having two tables when the second one is lower than the first and, whatever you do, the join will be incredibly obvious? ’
‘Will it, though?’ asked Adam. ‘Once it’s decorated and so on, I don’t think folks will even notice.’
‘Of course they’ll notice. Don’t be ridiculous.’ She gave Adam a look which let him know just how ridiculous he was being.
‘So what do you suggest I do?’ asked Adam. ‘Put the second table up on bricks? Cut the legs down on the first?’
Sofia glared at him. ‘Now you’re just being stupid.’
Henry smiled, trying to catch his son’s eye. It was Christmas Day, after all, and as yet Adam hadn’t even greeted him. It wasn’t hard to see why, however.
‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, wondering how best he could help.
Finally, Adam smiled. ‘Hi, Dad. Yes, fine. We’re just trying to work out the seating arrangements for tomorrow’s brunch. We’ve got another six people to accommodate and our original table isn’t big enough.’
‘The room isn’t big enough,’ countered Sofia.
Henry imagined that many families were in a similar position come Christmas.
With extra people coming to stay, it was a time when spare chairs were gathered from the corners of the house and pressed into service.
Similarly, put-you-up beds were dragged down from attics, and spare pillows and duvets were removed from cupboards.
It was all absolutely fine and nobody minded having to make do.
Nobody except Sofia, that much was clear.
‘You know, as soon as you get your new promotion signed off, I’m going to get those builders in I told you about,’ added Sofia.
‘You know, the ones Amanda and Nick used. Then we can have a proper room – open it up into the conservatory with space for a decent table and have trifold doors which open on to the garden. Can you just imagine how wonderful next Christmas will be with all that room?’
‘But Amanda and Nick’s extension is enormous,’ replied Adam. ‘It cost them almost a hundred thousand pounds – nearly double what they’d first planned. Nick told me at the gym how ridiculous it was.’
‘He’s exaggerating,’ replied Sofia. ‘Because he didn’t agree with the specification of fittings Amanda wanted.’
‘I don’t think he particularly liked them either.’
‘Yes, but everyone knows that’s not the point.
Nick’s taste is far too bohemian; most people run a mile at that kind of thing.
Keeping everything classic and neutral is absolutely the way to go if you want to get your money back.
And you only have to look at their place to know that the increase in the value of their house alone has made the alterations pay for themselves.
And the same would be true here. You can’t scrimp on quality fittings, not if you want to make a proper investment. ’
Henry would have dearly loved to escape to the safety of the living room, but it was too late for that. They were both looking at him for comment.
‘It’s always struck me as a little odd that people go to such pains to improve the resale value of their houses,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it better to decorate a house the way you want it? And then enjoy living there? Not worry about the people who are going to live there after you.’
Sofia rolled her eyes. ‘But that’s so short-sighted. I mean, how long does anyone realistically stay in a house like this, for example? You’ve always got to have an eye on the value you add to a property. That’s the bedrock of my business, so I should know.’
Henry’s opinion was evidently not required. He shrugged. ‘It was just an observation. And your house is lovely. Surely it’s plenty big enough without going through all that added expense?’
‘Except that it’s not big enough, is it? If it was we wouldn’t be faced with this ridiculous situation.’
‘I can see what Dad’s getting at though, Sofe.
Being realistic, how many times a year do we need this room to be any bigger?
It’s only really at Christmas, and it seems daft to spend a whole heap of money on something we don’t need ninety-nine per cent of the time.
And the new job doesn’t come with much more money, don’t forget. I’m not sure it’s enough to—’
‘Well, maybe it isn’t a new job title you need then, but a new school instead.
’ Irritation flickered across Sofia’s face.
For one thing, Henry knew she hated being called Sofe, but what was worse was that she hated being thwarted in her plans.
He felt a horrible pang of sympathy for his son’s situation.
‘It isn’t all about money though, is it?’ said Henry.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. Adam might understand the point he was making, but he’d never admit to it, not in front of Sofia anyway.
‘Isn’t it?’ said Adam. ‘We don’t all want to settle for mediocre. Some of us want better for our lives.’
Henry clamped his mouth shut. He was very aware that Adam was stressed – the front of his hair looked as agitated as his face did, and Henry wondered if he knew how many times he ran his hand through it.
Even so, his words were harsh, completely unfounded, and he was getting tired of his son’s disparaging comments.
‘There’s nothing wrong with having aspirations,’ he replied, trying to keep his voice mild.
‘But you also seem determined not to understand the point I was trying to make, which is that going after a promotion is great if it’s what you truly want, but not if it comes at the expense of your happiness.
And from what you’ve told me about the situation at your school, I can’t see how you can possibly be anything other than overworked and stressed. ’
‘Yes, but sometimes you have to make compromises if you want to get ahead. Put in the effort.’
‘Get ahead to where, Adam? What’s wrong with what you have now? You have a good job, and a beautiful home, and—’
‘And what about children, Henry?’ put in Sofia, glaring at him. ‘What then?’
‘It’s always tough, but you’d manage… Yes, you’d have to make changes to your life, sacrifices, too, but they’d be worth it. It doesn’t matter if you have to make do for a few years. Being a parent comes first.’
‘Hah!’