Chapter 19
‘I feel awful not having you to stay with us, Dad.’
It was the third time this morning that Adam had said these words, or some variation of them.
They were back at Peg’s kitchen table. Just him and Adam, with a pot of tea between them and the door to the living room firmly closed.
Peg had done this on her way out, retreating into the depths of the house along with everyone else – Peg, to make some notes for the article she was about to start writing, and the girls and Mim watching a Christmas film, a tradition which, thus far, they had missed out on.
Sofia was ostensibly helping Blanche to pack, a task which would take them all of thirty seconds, but which they all knew was designed to place them as far away as possible from the conversation about to take place in the kitchen.
‘I know you do, Adam, because if you didn’t that would make you a bad person and you’re certainly not that.’
Adam winced. ‘Is that your way of still telling me off?’
Henry smiled. ‘No… But if you feel that’s what I’m doing, might I suggest that’s a guilty conscience talking?
’ He spread his palms flat on the table.
‘Look, whatever the conformist views around children being responsible for looking after their parents when they’re old or infirm, the reality is that it makes more sense for me to be here.
I also think that Peg’s offer, and the simple existence of that offer, meant that you didn’t need to consider your options quite as hard as you would otherwise have done.
’ He smiled. ‘But there’s nothing wrong with that, and I’m not blaming you. ’
‘It isn’t that Sofia and I don’t want you to stay with us, but—’
‘You’re both busy, I get it,’ said Henry.
‘And it’s fine.’ The thought of being at home all day with Sofia while Adam was at work wasn’t one he wanted to dwell on.
And he was pretty sure Adam was aware of that fact.
He would even go so far as to surmise that he and Sofia had talked about that exact point, but he wasn’t about to make things difficult. He’d already put them through enough.
‘Peg is happy for me to be here,’ he added. ‘And I’m happy too. That’s all we need to say on the matter.’
‘Okay…’ Adam nodded, clearly relieved. He picked up the teapot and poured its contents into two mugs.
Henry waited until he had finished before speaking again. He didn’t want Adam to think that there was nothing to be discussed.
‘On the matter of what happened on Christmas morning, however, there are a few things I want to say. I don’t remember the accident, but I do remember our argument – what was said during it, and why.
I don’t want there to be any more cross words between us and I am very sorry for the way I handled things.
’ He dropped his head. ‘It wasn’t appropriate, either in its tone or content.
Not least of all because it was Christmas Day.
’ He paused, wrapping his hands around his mug.
‘But those words were said, and they were said in response to some things which have been on my mind for a while.’
‘Dad, I know, but—’
Henry opened the fingers of one hand in a gesture asking that he be allowed to continue.
‘So I want you to know that whatever I said is because I love you, because you’re my son and I only want the best for you.
I always have done. And I can’t help but be concerned when I heard the way you were talking about your promotion, and what the school was asking of you.
I’m also worried by all this talk of extensions and villas and what, frankly, smacks of keeping up with the Joneses.
You and Sofia are only young – don’t let yourselves get drawn into that game.
It will never end, and you will never earn enough money for all the things you think you ought to have. ’
Adam threw him an irritated look. ‘Dad, you don’t really know anything about our lives. Have you any idea how much our mortgage alone is?’
‘Then tell me,’ replied Henry mildly. He bent down to stroke Rolo, who had clambered from his basket and was now winding himself around Henry’s legs.
‘It’s different for you,’ said Adam, ignoring his statement, and the cat.
‘When you and Mum bought your house, things were a hell of a lot cheaper than they are today. Plus, your generation didn’t move around like ours does.
You stay in the same house all your lives, pay off your mortgage by the time you’re fifty and are quids in.
Our mortgage isn’t any bigger than anyone else’s, it’s just what you have to do these days. ’
Henry nodded. ‘But of course mortgages back in my day were harder to get, and still cost the same proportionally. Salaries weren’t as large back then either, don’t forget.
That aside though, Adam, you have a four-bedroom house.
Does it need to be any bigger? That house should see you through your whole lives, even when children come along. ’
Adam looked away, staring out of the window. Henry could see his jaw working, as if he was rehearsing what to say, and it worried him. He had wanted this to be an open discussion, but clearly Adam was still holding back on things, and he wasn’t sure that the gulf between them would ever narrow.
‘Yeah, well, like I said, Dad, you don’t know anything about our lives.’
The look on Adam’s face was hurt and defensive and all Henry wanted to do was wrap his arms around his son and tell him that everything would be okay. His head was beginning to throb horribly. He took a deep, and hopefully calming, breath.
‘So, tell me. We’re here now. We have time to talk, and I’d like to know, I really would.’
For a moment it seemed as if Adam might do just that. He opened his mouth to speak, but then his fingers began plucking at his lips and he turned away, swallowing.
‘Dad, you’ve only just come out of hospital. It’s not fair to…’ He trailed off. ‘Another time, perhaps.’
Henry was about to point out that there might not be another time, a fact that he was only too aware of, but under the circumstances that seemed a little harsh. Besides, he could already see that whatever opportunity there might have been, had passed. Adam’s expression was closed.
‘Okay… as long as we do make the time.’ He left a small gap for Adam to jump in if he wanted to, even though he knew he wouldn’t.
‘So…’ He brightened his expression. ‘Perhaps I should tell you my news?’ He rubbed absently at Rolo’s head, who was now standing on the table nudging him gently.
‘Peg has very kindly let me borrow her laptop and I’ve emailed the dean of my university.
First, to let him know what’s been going on, obviously.
But I’ve also asked him to allow me to take early retirement. ’
‘Can you do that?’ Adam’s gaze swung back towards him, his brow furrowed.
‘Oh yes. I’m sixty-two. I can take my pension at any point now.’
‘But I thought you loved your job?’
‘I do. And a week ago I expected to be doing it for as long as I could. But lying in a hospital bed with nothing else to do but think, is quite a revelatory experience. It stops time. And it makes you deal with the present in a way you’ve never done before, perhaps never felt the need to.
’ He pushed his chair back slightly to allow Rolo onto his lap.
‘I’ve done a lot of things in my life, Adam.
But I haven’t done enough living. And I don’t mean that in a material way, or in the way that your mother would have had me do – chasing every opportunity, shackled to ambition.
I still stand by every word I said to you about my life, and who I am, but I’ve also realised that I haven’t been doing nearly enough of what makes me feel alive.
I used to write poetry. I used to listen to music, all the time.
I used to walk outside in whatever conditions the weather could throw at me, because even on the dreariest day, or one full of rain, or wind, there was always something to see which made me feel the truest form of myself.
‘I’m no age at all, not really, and I have no idea how long I’ll live for.
But I know now that if it’s a year, it won’t be enough.
If it’s ten years, it won’t be enough, and even if it’s twenty years, it still won’t be enough.
When I came round in the hospital and realised what had happened to me, how close I came to dying, I thought about what I would miss if my world had ended that day.
And it wasn’t my job, or my house, but you and Sofia, and everything else in my life I hold dear.
And that surprised me. From someone who has made teaching their life’s work, I expected to feel some sadness at that thought, but I didn’t.
So, perhaps it’s time for something else, before I get too old to enjoy it. ’
Adam nodded, a sudden contrition clear in his expression.
‘I can understand that,’ he said. ‘It must have been terrifying, Dad. I’m sorry…
’ He rubbed his hands down his thighs. ‘I guess we were all so anxious that you wouldn’t die, we were thinking about what our future might look like, without you.
I didn’t think about how you must have been feeling about yours.
’ He dropped his head. ‘There’s no excuse for that. ’
Henry carried on cuffing Rolo’s cheek, the cat’s purrs loud in the quiet kitchen.
‘The thoughts in my head weren’t ones I’d ever seen myself having either, so there’s no blame here, Adam.
It’s been a period of time that nothing could have prepared us for.
But, seeing as we’re where we are, I thought I should at least give things careful consideration. ’
‘And you won’t be bored? Being retired.’
Henry shook his head. ‘No. When I think about it, my brain begins to fill with all the things I could do. And it’s a nice feeling.
It’s, if not exactly excitement, then something quite close to it.
But I need some time first. To get back to feeling sixty-two, because at the moment it’s more like ninety-two.
’ He smiled. ‘I have a feeling I’m not going to be a very patient patient. ’
Adam swallowed some tea. ‘Ah… patient as a noun… comes from the Latin, patiens meaning I am suffering…’ He pulled a face. ‘The adjective referring to someone who is able to endure suffering, but I agree, impatience as a patient is much more likely. One of life’s little ironies.’
‘Spoken like a true English teacher,’ replied Henry.
He lifted his own mug to his lips, using the pause while he drank to consider how to phrase his next question.
Clearly discussion around the subject was off limits, but Henry still wanted to know what Adam had decided.
‘And speaking of which… Have you and Sofia had a chance to discuss your promotion yet? I know it’s been an awful few days for you, but I hope you’ve found some time to talk. ’
‘Yes… and we’ve agreed that I should take it.’ Adam lifted his chin as if in challenge.
Henry was disappointed, but not at all surprised. ‘I’m not going to try to talk you out of it,’ he said. ‘Because I’m sure you’re taking it for the right reasons.’
‘I am. What other reasons would there be?’
Henry smiled in acknowledgement of the truth as Adam saw it.
He’d let it go, for now. He leaned forward.
‘None at all,’ he said. ‘But seeing as I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the future, perhaps now would be a good time for us all to think about what we want from it.
You haven’t mentioned your writing in a while. How’s it going?’
Adam raised his eyebrows. ‘It isn’t. It hasn’t been for some time. There doesn’t seem to be much point to it.’
‘Does there have to be?’ asked Henry. ‘Other than to provide enjoyment.’ He paused, eyes narrowing. ‘Unless you’d like it to have a point, of course. You always did, as I recall.’
‘Yes, but those are the kinds of dreams you have when you’re younger,’ countered Adam. ‘They disappear when real life comes along.’
‘Maybe they do, but not entirely… If there was a spark there to begin with, the chances are it’s still there. And you’ve had yours a very long time. I remember all the notebooks you used to fill as a child. You were always scribbling something. Don’t lose sight of it, Adam.’
Adam’s gaze returned to the window as if the answer could be gleaned from staring outside. After a moment, he sighed and his shoulders moved in what might have been a shrug, or perhaps an admission of defeat.
‘I’m not sure now’s the time,’ he said.
Henry watched him for a moment. ‘Because of your job?’ he asked gently. ‘Or something else?’
This time Adam gave a loud sigh. ‘There is no job, Dad. I lied. No promotion, nothing. I’ve been made redundant.’