Chapter 21
Henry
Sixteen Summers Ago
They had slept with the shutters propped open, and Henry awoke to the sound of birdsong, a smile reaching his lips as he rubbed grit from his eyes. Violet lay beside him, pale lashes fanning freckled cheeks and red hair spilling out across the pillow. He watched her chest as it rose and fell, marvelling at the love that bloomed in his own.
A glance at the clock on the bedside cabinet told him it was late, a few minutes from eight a.m., and there hadn’t yet been so much as a murmur from Luke. It was always this way on their first night back on the island, La Casa Naranja enveloping the three of them in welcome. This place was theirs; the only solid thing Henry owned. Even the old Ford he drove in England had been given to him by Violet’s father, and Christopher Lupton had steadfastly refused any offers of payment. Henry greatly needed a car and accepted it in good grace, but he still felt indebted whenever he drove it. They were all still living under the same roof, and the older Luke got, the more paraphernalia he accumulated. What had once been a neat and orderly abode now creaked under the strain of art supplies, jigsaws, and wooden learning toys; endless piles of folded washing and stacked packets of night-time nappies. Despite both their combined and tireless efforts, three-year-old Luke was still getting to grips with the concept of toileting – a problem that caused no end of clashes between Violet and her mum.
‘Sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind,’ she’d insist, but her approach did not work with Luke. If anyone pushed him, he shoved back.
Loath to wake Violet but unable to resist touching her, Henry stroked a slow finger along her arm, nuzzling in close as she started to stir. The selfish thread inside him had been tugged by desire, and he was delighted when Violet responded to his kisses by sliding her leg over his.
‘Morning,’ she murmured, her sweet breath hot against his throat. Henry put his hand on her waist, pulled her to him.
‘I love waking up here,’ she said, speaking through a smile. ‘With you.’
‘Me too.’
‘I wish my parents would agree to come, see how much it’s changed, how beautiful you’ve made it. I don’t think I can stand another row with my mum about selling.’
‘I get where they’re coming from,’ Henry allowed, dropping a kiss on her collarbone. ‘If we sold, we’d have the money to buy somewhere in England sooner and be out from under their feet.’
‘We’ve offered to rent somewhere about a million times,’ she pointed out, arching against him like a cat. Henry hooked his fingers under the bottom of her pyjama top and eased it upward, watching with pleasure as his lazily grazing thumb made Violet shiver. Four years they had been together, and she could still reduce him to putty. Henry felt almost stupid with lust, the galloping pace of his heart at odds with the stealth with which his fingers explored her. The top was dropped to the floor, his hands seeking her small, high breasts. He kissed each of the stretch marks left there by pregnancy, loving her all the more for having them, perpetually in awe of her body and what it had given them.
‘I’ll talk to them again,’ he promised. ‘Convince them it’s time that we move out.’
‘You’d do that for me?’ she teased, easing down his boxers. The leg that was draped over him curled and tightened, drawing him in. Henry closed his eyes.
‘I’d do anything for you,’ he murmured. ‘I’d even sell this place, if you asked me to.’
Violet’s bright green eyes widened. ‘You would never do that!’
He chuckled. ‘I might.’
Violet put a hand against his chest and pulled back, unhooking her leg.
‘Henry,’ she said sternly, waiting until she had his full attention, ‘I would never ask you to sell this place. I love it here; I can’t imagine our life without our beautiful orange house. Losing it would be like losing you or Luke – it’s unthinkable.’
He could see she’d upset herself and rushed to reassure her. ‘I would give up everything else I own before I let this place go,’ he said, wrapping her up in his arms. ‘And I know that doesn’t amount to much yet, but I’m doing my best. I’m trying every day, for us and for our future.’
‘I know you are.’
She kissed him properly then, tugging at his hair, tasting him, needing him. Henry swam a few glorious lengths in pure sensation, then slowly he pulled away from her.
Violet, breathless, blinked at him. ‘Where are you going?’
Henry grinned as he clambered up on to the mattress. ‘Not far,’ he said, leaping naked to the floor. He had plans to build an en suite next to their bedroom, but for now they had to make do with the main bathroom a few doors down. It took him less than a minute to run there and get what he needed, but as he turned to go back, an idea came to him.
Smiling broadly, his precious cargo clasped tightly in one hand, Henry made his way along the landing to the room at the far end and flicked on the light.
The little bed was empty.
‘Luke?’ he called, venturing further inside. He checked behind the curtains, under the bed, inside the wardrobe; he wrenched open drawers and threw aside toys. Running out into the hallway, he crashed into Violet, who was clad in just a towel.
‘Where’s Luke?’ he said, stepping around her and shouting his son’s name over and over. Violet joined in, her voice lilting and sweet at first, then louder and more frantic. The turret was unfinished, the door always locked, but Henry fetched the key and checked inside regardless, swearing in earnest as a splinter of wood went into his toe.
‘I can’t find him anywhere!’ Violet’s shrill cry filtered up from the ground floor.
‘Check the garden,’ Henry shouted back, limping back into their bedroom where he pulled on his boxers. There was no time to worry about shoes. Taking the stairs two at a time, Henry reached the front door as Violet clattered through from the kitchen, her face as white as the towel she was still clutching around herself.
‘I don’t understand,’ she sobbed. ‘Oh, Henry – what if someone’s taken him?’
‘No!’ he yelled, with such ferocity that she quailed. ‘Sorry, sorry!’ He rushed across, held her for the briefest moment, felt the rush of her heart against his chest.
‘I’ll find him,’ he promised, trying to break free, but Violet clung to him.
‘You’re not going anywhere without me.’
The haze of the morning had yet to clear outside, and the sky was muted by cloud. Henry did not feel the stones underfoot, nor the scrape of the latch as he pushed through the gate. Instinct told him right, but Violet ran left, and after a moment’s hesitation, he went after her, hearing her cry as she reached the road.
‘What is it?’ he called, terror making him lightheaded so that he half staggered around the corner. Violet was there, kneeling on the asphalt, a small dark-haired boy wrapped tightly in her arms.
‘Oh thank god.’ Henry gave in to tears as he knelt down, enveloping them both in a bone-crushing hug.
Luke squirmed. ‘Get off, Daddy. You’re hurting me.’
‘Sorry.’ Henry forced himself to let go, blinking away yet more tears as Violet set about examining every inch of their son, his boy, his baby.
‘I think he’s OK,’ she said, her well-practised ‘Mum’ voice noticeably shaky. ‘I can’t see any marks on him.’
Luke was clad only in a nappy, his pale body so small and vulnerable.
‘What were you thinking, little man?’ Henry asked, ushering the two of them back to the side of the road. The truth sat loud but unspoken between him and Violet, how close they had come to never getting Luke back, to life as they knew it being over.
‘You mustn’t run off like that,’ Violet chided gently, crouching so she could look Luke in the eye. ‘Mummy and Daddy were scared when they couldn’t find you.’
‘Cat,’ he said, and Violet glanced up at Henry.
‘That bloody stray,’ she muttered. ‘He must have followed it.’
‘How did he even get out through the door?’ said Henry, who could remember turning the key in the lock himself the previous night. ‘Did you know he could let himself out?’
Violet bristled. ‘Of course Mummy didn’t know,’ she said, addressing Luke rather than him. ‘Silly Daddy, asking such a silly question.’
‘What’s that?’ Luke was pointing at the small velvet box in Henry’s hand, the one he had fished out of his washbag before discovering that his son was missing. Henry was momentarily confused to see it there, and then he smiled.
‘Now that,’ he said, getting down on one knee, ‘is a very good question indeed.’
Violet’s eyes were wide as she realised what was happening, then she raised a hand to her mouth, almost losing her towel in the process.
‘I was trying to create a perfect moment,’ he said, giving in to a laugh. ‘But I guess this will have to do.’
‘Why has Mummy gone all pink?’ asked Luke.
‘I don’t have much to offer you,’ Henry went on. ‘Nothing except a crumbling house, a better locking system for all the doors, which I’ll get cracking on with today, and, oh yeah, my total and absolute devotion.’
She reached for his hand.
‘I know we’re young, and broke, and still trying to work out who we are, and that there’s so much about life that I don’t know yet, so many lessons I have still to learn, but there is one thing I am sure about, Violet Lupton, and that is my love for you. You’re my best friend, an amazing mother to our three-going-on-thirteen-year-old son, and you inspire me every day. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and I know that will never change. You’re all the clichés, every single one of them. You complete me, you make me a better man, you make me feel whole – all of them, all the cheese, every corny line from a romance novel, every searing note of a love song, all the poems and teddies clutching hearts and funny feelings in your pants.’
Violet had begun to laugh through her tears. ‘At least you’re wearing pants,’ she said.
Henry looked down at himself, then back towards her, crouched there in her towel, their beautiful baby boy pulled close in beside her.
‘This is me,’ he said simply. ‘Laid almost literally bare, all the pieces of me asking all the pieces of you to be each other’s forever.
When he opened the box, the ring inside it glistened.
‘It’s not a real diamond,’ he said. ‘But I figured you more than make up for that.’
‘I love it, it’s perfect. And I don’t need a precious stone,’ she told him. ‘All I need is you two, and our summers here together. That’s all I want forever – our life and us, exactly as we are right now.’
As if on cue, Luke put his head on one side and said, very clearly and without preamble, ‘I did a poo.’
‘Exactly as we are right now?’ repeated Henry, as the two of them lapsed into laughter. ‘Are you sure about that?’
Violet took the ring from its box and slid it on to the third finger of her left hand.
‘I’m sure,’ she said, leaning over to kiss him. ‘It’s all shits and giggles with us, isn’t it? And what could be better than that?’