Chapter 15 #2
‘That I probably ought to listen to him more than I have,’ Adam replied.
He sat down, picking up a stray piece of ribbon which Phoebe had left on the table.
He began to twirl it around his fingers.
‘I’ve only ever wanted Dad to think well of me, but he never seems to approve of anything – not my job, our house, even our friends. ’
Peg straightened in her chair. ‘Then I really hope you get the chance to talk to him about it,’ she said.
‘But I can tell you this. All Henry wants is for you to be happy, so if you think he disapproves of the choices you’ve made, perhaps it’s simply that he doesn’t think they are making you happy. Maybe all he needs is to see proof.’
‘I can see why Dad likes you.’
Peg shook her head in amusement. ‘Your dad doesn’t know me.
But I can tell you these things because I’m a parent too, and that’s the way we think.
We’d walk over hot coals for our kids if it would ensure they were happy.
’ She dipped her head. ‘And sometimes kids have to walk over hot coals for their parents, too. That’s the way it works; it’s a two-way street, the same as in any relationship.
I hope with all my heart that Henry comes through this.
Losing people you love is the worst kind of agony, but near misses also put the world into perspective pretty damn fast. They help you to understand what really is important.
If your dad does pull through, then you’ll have a long road of recovery ahead of you and I suspect you might find out what those hot coals feel like.
’ She placed her hand over his. ‘But good things can come from this.’
Sofia slipped soundlessly into the seat beside Adam and lay her head on his shoulder. And very quietly Peg got to her feet and left them there. The dinner could wait for a few more moments.
Eventually, though, the smell of the food brought everyone back to the kitchen, with offers of help and gentle enquiries from Izzy and Phoebe into how long it would be before they could eat.
It was quite likely several months since her daughters had had a proper roast, and Peg could see the hunger in their eyes – not just for the chicken, but for the opportunity to feast in their mother’s kitchen, just as they had on so many other occasions before.
How did she ever think it would be better having Christmas on her own?
This was their dad’s anniversary, too, she mustn’t forget that.
‘I thought we’d have dinner in here, if that’s all right with everyone,’ she said.
‘It gets a little chilly in the dining room and I’d rather be comfortable than formal.
And the table’s slightly bigger in here.
’ She began to clear away the accumulated debris left over from their preparations.
‘Izzy, perhaps you could lay the table for me?’
‘Sure. Pheebes, you get the glasses and I’ll do the plates.’
‘I can help,’ said Sofia. ‘Is there a cloth you’d like to use, or…?’
Peg wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t normally bother.
Besides, the cat swings on it if I do, so it’s not worth the anguish of having everything sliding to the floor.
He’s done that on more than one occasion.
I tell you what would look nice.’ She crossed to the dresser on the far side of the room and took down three pottery jugs – all blue, but of different sizes and shapes.
‘Would you like to shove some holly in these? I collected a stash a couple of days ago, but I haven’t had a chance to string much of it up yet.
It’s on the side in the pantry.’ She pointed.
‘Through there.’ She handed Sofia the jugs, wondering what she thought about her scrubbed pine table which bore the scars of a lifetime of use.
She must be itching to get her hands on Peg’s kitchen and work her magic.
She’d have the place shiny and perfect in no time.
Peg’s chairs didn’t match because Julian broke one a long time ago, and she wasn’t even sure she owned any napkins.
She might have done, once upon a time… yes, a wedding present, she seemed to recall, but if she still had them they would have long ago been relegated to the loft.
Which was something else she would have to think about.
She had thirty-odd years of belongings accumulated in this house, all of which would have to be sorted through if she moved.
It would be a mammoth task. And a painful one. Peg thrust the thought away.
A few minutes later, they were ready to eat.
And it might have all been a bit impromptu, but the table looked lovely.
She had brought her bright red poinsettia in from the living room and placed it in the middle, and together with the blue jugs of holly and Phoebe’s cleverly crafted crackers, it looked very festive.
It wasn’t the most perfectly proportioned Christmas dinner Peg had ever produced either, but there was lots of veg to fill up on and, as she ferried dish after dish to the table, the appreciation was audible.
‘Don’t let it get cold,’ she cautioned. ‘Please, just get stuck in, no need to stand on ceremony.’ She was about to sit down herself when she suddenly remembered something. ‘Oh, I haven’t opened the wine.’
‘Let me,’ said Adam, getting to his feet. ‘You sit down, Peg.’
It was always the smallest things which caught her unawares.
Like that first Sunday dinner without Julian when he had not been there to open their usual bottle.
They’d gone without because Peg couldn’t bear to open it herself.
She glanced at Izzy and Phoebe as she sat down, giving her daughters a warm smile as she waited for her glass to be filled.
She would like to say something, only she had no idea what.
Adam had poured himself no more than an inch of wine and she knew this was in case he needed to drive.
They might all be here, trying to do their best under difficult circumstances, but the reminders of what had been, and what yet might still come to pass, were all around them.
She picked up a jug of gravy and offered it to Sofia. ‘Come on, everyone, let’s eat.’
To her relief, the poignancy of the moment passed and the conversation soon resumed.
In fact, as the meal progressed, Peg felt more relaxed than she had in days, and it was clear the others felt so too.
What could have been a miserable, make-do affair became an opportunity to escape their situations, even if only for a little while, and the smiles became bigger and the faces brighter.
The food was demolished, and Peg was pleased to see both Adam and Sofia tuck in with relish.
They couldn’t have eaten much over the past day, and if this one small thing made a difference to how they were feeling, then she was glad.
She was about to make a start clearing the plates away ready for pudding, when a loud klaxon sounded, cutting through the conversation like a knife.
Adam’s phone lay face down on the table beside his plate, the source of the noise, and all eyes fell on it as if it was an unexploded bomb.
Slowly, Adam picked it up and turned it over, the colour draining from his face. ‘It’s the hospital,’ he said.