Chapter 14
Violet
Henry turned the little wooden box over in his hands.
‘The day I gave him this – or tried to,’ he corrected bitterly, ‘was when it started.’
‘When what started?’ I asked, though I knew full well. Henry sighed before replying, as if each of his words was a leaden weight.
‘You and Luke, shutting me out.’
We’d had this argument so many times. I closed my eyes, steeling myself for the wash of pain that always followed in the wake of his accusations.
‘I was his mother,’ I said, through clenched teeth. ‘Am his mother. I was at home with him while you were working – he barely saw you. I know it wasn’t fair, but that was the situation. I was his port in the storm of babyhood, so it stands to reason that he favoured me over you in the beginning. He didn’t shun you any more than I did.’
‘You both did,’ he said, with conviction. ‘From that day onwards, when it became clear to all of us that I was not the father he wanted, Luke began to withdraw – and you let him. You encouraged it.’
I put my head in my hands and rubbed them across my face. ‘He. Was. A. Baby.’ I’d spoken as if each word had a full stop and saw immediately that it hadn’t landed well. Henry glared at me but didn’t reply.
‘I wanted nothing more than the two of you to find common ground,’ I insisted. ‘It was you who refused to compromise. Seriously, Henry, this tale of woe you’ve concocted isn’t wholly fair. You’re talking about our first summer here as a family – Luke didn’t even show so much as an inkling of an issue until he turned five. His only crime back then was to be keener on his crayons than playing pretend-fix-the-house. Are you sure it wasn’t you who took against him, not the other way around?’
When he still didn’t say anything, I went back to my task of clearing out the dresser. I was always calmer when I had a practical task to complete, and would probably have boxed up every possession in the house before pausing to wallow.
Henry left the room but returned shortly afterwards with two bottles of water, one of which he put on the floor beside me.
‘Better for you than gin,’ he said, and though I tutted, I accepted it was true.
The silence between us stretched, the only sound the chirping of the birds outside in the trees, and the low murmur of distant voices. It wasn’t uncommon to look outside and find tourists at the gate, their cameras raised to capture our unique turret.
‘You know,’ Henry said presently. ‘There was a time when we had conversations that weren’t about Luke. I can still remember some of them, even if you can’t.’
‘Of course I can. During those first few months after we met, I’d make lists of all the funny things that happened to me during the day so I could tell you about them on our evening calls.’
He made a small noise of bemusement. ‘You and your lists.’
‘I used to think: the longer the list, the longer I can keep him on the phone.’
‘Silly. I never wanted to hang up. Back then, when I was here and you were there, it was so hard.’
‘It was,’ I agreed. ‘But it was also exciting, wasn’t it?’
Henry’s eyes slid towards the photo album. ‘We were so young,’ he said again.
‘Young and in love,’ I replied. ‘More fool us, eh?’
He smiled sadly. ‘More fool us.’
The energy that had swarmed during our short altercation had gone, and in its place was the same sorrow as before, quiet and brooding. I’m sorry, screamed my brain, but my mouth remained shut. I had not forgotten the woman, how it had felt to see her hand clasped in his.
‘Have you met anyone?’ I blurted, unscrewing my bottle of water. ‘I mean, since...’
‘This?’ he asked, motioning to his face. ‘What do you think?’
Don’t lie to me, Henry. Please don’t lie to me.
‘I think if you had, you wouldn’t tell me.’
‘Have you?’ he said challengingly, the heat in his tone making me shrink into myself.
‘No!’ I was nettled by the mere suggestion. ‘But if I had, I’d tell you.’
Henry gaped at me. ‘You’re unbelievable.’
‘Well, you literally are,’ I retorted. ‘I don’t believe a word you say.’
Henry was gearing up for another scathing remark when the sound of voices floated in through the open window. We turned to each other, bound together, albeit fleetingly, by our shared apprehension. I recovered quickly, and by the time Luke and Eliza let themselves in and came to join us, I had scrambled to my feet ready to greet them.
Luke looked from me, to Henry, to the overflowing bags of his old toys. His frown lines were deeper than they rightly should be in someone of his age – but then, the same could be said for all three of us.
‘Are you throwing everything away?’ he asked, and it was impossible to tell if he was annoyed by the idea, or indifferent. I hurriedly explained about the three-bag system.
‘Do take a look through it all, if you want to,’ I added. ‘See if there’s anything you want to keep.’
Eliza peered around him, pierced eyebrow lifting when she saw the mess I’d made. ‘Ooh, is that a photo album? I’d love to see some baby photos of Luke. He always tells me there aren’t any,’ she added, ‘but I know that can’t be true.’
I registered Henry’s slight flinch.
‘There are some,’ I said, not wanting to muddy waters that were already decidedly murky between myself and my son. ‘Do you mind if Eliza takes a look?’ I asked him.
Luke took in his girlfriend’s pleading expression. ‘Whatever.’
‘Yay!’
‘What about the rest of the stuff?’ I asked. ‘Any toys you want, or games?’
He didn’t reply.
‘Luke?’
This time Henry had spoken. He still had the toy toolbox, and now held it out in front of him, offering it to his son for a second time. I watched as an understanding of sorts seemed to pass between them, and then Luke looked away.
‘Throw it all away,’ he said. ‘I don’t want any of it.’