Chapter 10 #2
Peg pulled off her pink sheepskin slippers, revealing equally pink thick socks, which poked out from underneath the hem of her dress.
The informality of such an unselfconscious action made him smile.
Until he took off his own shoes, he had no idea of either the state of his socks or their colour, but he didn’t care.
Peg wouldn’t care either, and it reinforced his decision to stay.
For now, he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Moments later, having followed Peg through a gate at the bottom of her garden, Henry found himself in thick woodland, hushed and still.
‘You told me about this place when we were stuck in the traffic jam,’ he said. ‘And I remember thinking how wonderful it sounded. When you said it was behind your house, I didn’t realise it was quite so close.’
‘I’m incredibly lucky to have it,’ replied Peg. ‘And although the garden’s lovely, there’s something special about this place. It is absolutely the perfect spot to think and to breathe… just being here makes a difference to how I feel.’
Henry could understand that. He was already feeling the benefit of the cold, clean air in his lungs.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been for a walk and— He stopped, because that wasn’t true; he could remember it exactly.
His last ever walk with Meg, after so many years of walking side by side, twice a day, sometimes more.
And it was as if she had sensed that something was coming to an end that day, too, only running a few steps ahead before circling back to him, pushing her nose into his hand and nudging his pockets in case any treats had found their way there.
He could still feel the soft curls on the top of her head, damp from the rain, and the silky length of her ears.
And then the next day she was gone. Just as Linda was.
And he’d wondered who would miss him more.
‘So tell me about Adam,’ said Peg. ‘Is he your only child?’
Henry looked up, roused from his reverie, and nodded. ‘We’d wanted a large family, three or four at least, but that was back in the days when assumptions about our future were easily made. You never think, do you, that the reality will be so much harder to attain?’
‘You couldn’t have any more?’
‘We didn’t know, but Adam was such a gift that Linda and I decided we wouldn’t push our luck again by asking for more, and so we stopped trying.’
He’d forgotten that. All the years of heartache.
Of waiting, and praying and hoping, for weeks, sometimes longer than at others.
But then came the pain of grief, always the pain, sharp and searing, followed by the need to comfort, to quell the feelings of hopelessness, of anger and desolation at something which came so easily to others, yet continued to evade them.
‘There were three other babies before Adam,’ he continued. ‘But none of them lived long enough to be born.’
Peg looked horrified, colour flooding her face. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘That was stupid of me, asking like that.’
Henry shook his head. ‘It was a long time ago. And once Adam arrived, those early years became a part of our lives we had no need to revisit. You never forget them – our two other boys and a girl – but Adam was so full of life that gradually our feelings about him helped to heal our feelings about them.’ He smiled.
‘And he was a very curious child, so our days and nights were full. We were happy then, I think.’
‘And close? I would imagine you would be.’ She held a branch out of his way so that he could follow her.
‘We were. For a very long time. We did everything together…’ He frowned. ‘It seems such a long time ago now.’
Peg stopped, surveying a holly tree burgeoning with berries. ‘And then all of a sudden they’re grown up, and having lives of their own, without you.’
Henry passed her the secateurs. ‘Linda and I weren’t ready for that. I think that was our problem. Once Adam was grown up he didn’t need us any more and our lives went from being full to being unfulfilled. We should have prepared ourselves for it, but we didn’t.’
‘Mmm,’ acknowledged Peg. ‘The empty nest. I know all about that.’ Peg snipped at a sprig of holly.
‘Although, having two children, that happened more gradually with us. Phoebe went first, ahead of her elder sister by almost two years. Maybe that gave us longer to think about what life would be like after they’d gone, I don’t know.
All I do know is that I didn’t have nearly enough time with Julian. ’
Henry held her look, hoping his was warm and sympathetic.
It was horrible to think of someone like Peg, so vibrant and alive, living with death at such an early age.
‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘That doesn’t seem at all fair.
I wish Linda and I had made the most of the time we had together but…
we didn’t.’ And it struck Henry that perhaps he had been complacent after Adam left home.
Had he mistaken happiness for what was actually stagnation?
Or had he known it all the while, yet chosen to convince himself he was happy because it was easier than doing something to remedy the situation?
‘I think Adam blames me for what happened with his mum,’ he said. ‘And maybe he’s right.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,’ suggested Peg. ‘You didn’t have sole responsibility for your marriage, after all.’ She looked at the boughs of greenery in her hand. ‘That ought to do it,’ she added. ‘We’d better get back.’
The peeling of potatoes turned into carrots as well, and parsnips.
Then there were Brussels sprouts to clean up and score, and leeks from the garden to wash and slice, and by the time Henry had done that, Peg had made some stuffing using sausage meat and Bramley apples which she’d picked straight from the tree.
Her kitchen was warm, and fragrant with herbs and spices and, despite the mince pie he’d eaten earlier, Henry realised he was ravenous.
Not only that, but it was a meal he was actually looking forward to eating.
They had barely spoken for the last hour or so, apart from comments about what to prepare and in what quantities, but the silence had been an easy one, interspersed with Peg humming ‘Deck the Halls’ at odd intervals.
In fact, as he’d surreptitiously watched her from across the room, there were times when she seemed almost as if she were dancing, swaying to some rhythm only she could hear.
‘Did you enjoy the carol service?’ she asked.
‘I did, although…’ Henry pulled a face. ‘I spent far too many occasions in that church as a small boy wishing I was anywhere else but there. So there was this oddly nostalgic feeling, too, only not in a good way.’
‘Oh dear… Do you remember much about the village?’
Henry shook his head. ‘Hardly anything. We didn’t live here for that long – from when I was about seven for three years or so.
I’m the youngest of four, born to very busy parents, both GPs.
I think they were relieved to have a child who was so quiet, so I was pretty much left to my own devices and that usually meant head in a book. ’
‘Hence the love of English…?’
‘Mmm, and I didn’t venture out much. I remember the green, although I don’t think there was a pond on it back then, and I remember the post office because it had a vending machine on the outside wall where you could buy some weird cinnamon-flavoured chewing gum.
I can’t remember the name of it now, but I loved that stuff. ’
‘So you were a very quiet and studious child, were you?’
Henry looked at Peg in surprise. ‘I guess I was, yes. A quiet, studious child who turned into a quiet, studious adult… I’m an English lecturer so I still have my head in a book most days…’ He took in Peg’s amused expression. ‘Which is possibly not a surprise.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ replied Peg. ‘But now that you mention it…’ She grinned. ‘We talked about stereotypes when we were stuck in the traffic jam, didn’t we? Me being a widow and you a divorcee… And I think we both refuted the clichés, but I’m not at all surprised to learn you’re a lecturer.’
‘Aren’t you? What gave me away?’
‘Well, perhaps the fact that when we first met you were wearing odd socks and had your jumper on back to front.’
‘Was I?’ Henry scratched his head, before peering down at his feet. He wriggled his toes. ‘I didn’t even notice.’
‘It probably shouldn’t, but it conjured up a vision of a forgetful academic, concerned with far more important things than the triviality of dress.’
‘Guilty as charged. And I guess that does make me seem disorganised, but funnily enough, I’m the opposite when it comes to my work. With my students I have everything just so. It’s the rest of my life which runs away from me.’
‘So you enjoy your job?’
‘Oh yes, I think it’s the one thing I’m good at.’
‘Then you’re lucky enough to have discovered what brings you alive – what gives your life meaning.’ She pursed her lips as if pondering what she’d just said. ‘Everything else is just noise, isn’t it?’
Henry stared at her. There was something in what she’d said.
Some distinction maybe between the way in which he lived his life and the way Adam did.
Could that be why he and his son didn’t understand one another?
A thought was trying to make itself understood, but Henry couldn’t quite catch hold of it for long enough to make any sense.
He looked around at Peg’s kitchen, at the clutter which…
no, that wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t clutter in the sense of being untidy, more that there were simply lots of things in the room.
It should feel oppressive, but somehow it didn’t.
In fact, the opposite was true. Henry found it comfortable, comforting…
‘Is everything okay?’ asked Peg. ‘You seem to be looking for something.’