Chapter Forty
Flynn unloaded the presents from the bike’s top box and stood on the pathway outside Molly and Brenda’s house. He’d found it so hard to ride away from Lara; he’d felt he’d abandoned her on a special day and now he was so nervous that he’d almost ridden straight back.
Darkness had all but fallen by the time he reached the house. The cul-de-sac was crowded with cars and vans, and there were lights in almost every window. Everyone was home for Christmas and probably passed out in a post-turkey haze.
The curtains were drawn at Molly’s but he could imagine the scene inside.
Brenda flopped on the sofa with her feet up, a glass of port in her hand.
Molly on the floor, surrounded by a sea of wrapping paper, boxes, furry toys and upturned crates of Duplo.
Esme bashing Penguin with a hammer or trying to crawl off.
He still couldn’t imagine himself in that scene and yet he had to insert himself into it.
He took a deep breath, walked up the path, and rang the bell. There was the usual kerfuffle when guests arrived at doors: voices, the TV, squeals from Esme, and the door opened.
Yet it was neither Molly nor Brenda who answered the door but a tall, tanned woman his own age. Flynn froze on the threshold.
The woman’s jaw fell open in shock. ‘Flynn?’
‘Imogen.’
Even now, after twenty years, even without the benefit of having seen her profile picture on Facebook, he’d have recognised her instantly. The pretty girl by the lake; the mother of his child.
‘What the hell?’ Imogen murmured.
Flynn was spared from speaking by Molly appearing behind her mother. ‘Oh my God! I meant to answer the door. Don’t be angry. I didn’t know she was coming. I tried to warn you both. Oh, shit.’
Flynn was still paralysed with shock, his arms full of presents. ‘Imogen, I’d n-no idea you’d be here.’
‘Same here,’ Imogen said, staring at him. ‘No bloody idea at all.’
‘For the love of God, will someone let the man in?’ Brenda materialised behind Molly with Esme in her arms. ‘I knew this would happen! I’m taking Esme upstairs to put her pyjamas on. She doesn’t need to hear this. Molly, love, don’t get upset. It can’t be helped now.’
Imogen opened the door as Molly shrunk back into the hallway. ‘I suppose you’d better come in.’
‘Are you sure? This doesn’t seem the best time …’
‘You were obviously expected.’
While Flynn hadn’t quite known what kind of welcome to expect, he had hoped that the afternoon could be a chance to build more bonds with Molly and some bridges with Brenda.
That had gone out of the window, because never in a million years had he expected Imogen to be there.
She looked as shocked – and dismayed – as he was.
‘Come in,’ Molly said, not adding ‘Dad’, which Flynn thought was wise considering the thunderous expression on her mother’s face.
Imogen walked into the sitting room and sat down heavily on a chair with Molly standing in front of her.
‘Mum, if we’d known you were going to rock up out of the blue, we’d have told Flynn not to come.’
Flynn glanced back at the doorway, wondering if he still had time to bolt. He felt ridiculous with his bags of gifts. ‘Maybe I should come back another time.’
‘No,’ Imogen finally spoke again. ‘This was obviously all planned. And no one knew I was coming until I turned up after lunch.’
‘We thought she was in Tenerife,’ Molly said, hugging herself.
‘Well, I wasn’t going to miss my granddaughter’s first Christmas and I wanted to see you and Mum,’ Imogen snapped. ‘I managed to get the time off and wanted to surprise you.’
‘That was—’ Flynn was going to say ‘nice of you’, but he decided it was better if settled for ‘I’m glad you could get here.’
‘Yeah – but – why are you here? It looks like you’ve been hanging around a while.’
‘I wouldn’t describe it as hanging around,’ Flynn said, feeling annoyed.
He was aware that Imogen had zero insight into the events of the past few weeks and he didn’t want to inflame the situation, for Molly’s sake, but he had a bunch of questions of his own for Imogen.
In this highly charged atmosphere, though, now was not the moment.
Molly finally found her voice. ‘I am so sorry, Mum. I swear I was going to tell you tomorrow – over FaceTime.’
‘FaceTime?’ Imogen echoed. ‘I suppose it would have been better than nothing.’
‘And Flynn. I tried to message you as soon as I could after Mum arrived.’
‘I didn’t look at my phone. I was at the castle at the staff Christmas lunch. I didn’t even think to check my phone because I was late and rushing over here.’
‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant to turn out like this.’
‘It’s OK,’ he soothed his daughter. ‘But I can see it’s a shock for your mum.’
Imogen stared at him. She was still very like the girl he’d lain with by that lakeside fire, albeit her hair was even darker than it had been then, almost black.
She was very tanned, as you’d expect from someone who worked in the sun a lot, and there was something harder-edged about her features than he remembered.
Maybe twenty years of working to support a child on her own would have done that, he thought bitterly.
He wanted to ask her why she’d felt the need but he stopped himself. All in good time. God knows what he looked like to her.
He dragged his eyes away and smiled at Molly. ‘This is pretty awkward, isn’t it?’
‘You can say that again,’ Imogen said. ‘Molly, any chance of a large glass of that pink gin I brought?’
Molly scurried off to the kitchen and seemed to take a long time making a G&T and finding a zero beer for Flynn.
In an ideal world, he would have had several shots of Harvey’s decent whisky to cope with the drama.
However, he was stuck here now and there was no escape.
He wouldn’t have left anyway, though, because Molly and Esme needed him.
‘It’s unfortunate Molly didn’t alert either of us, but it means I have no idea why and how you’re here.’
‘I work at Ravendale Castle. Molly heard my name mentioned around and kind of tracked me down. I think that’s something you need to talk to her about, though,’ Flynn replied.
Brenda came back into the lounge with Esme in her arms. ‘My, she is getting so heavy. Do I need to referee?’
Flynn almost managed a smile. ‘Not yet, Brenda.’
Imogen’s eyes flicked from her mother to Flynn, perhaps sensing the glimmer of an in-joke between the two of them. ‘How long has this been going on?’
Molly re-entered the room, a tissue in her hand.
‘Only a few weeks. Well, Flynn’s only known about us for a few weeks. I was kind of stalking him online for a while before that. So were you, Mum, so don’t deny it.’ Molly handed her a gin and tonic.
‘Stalking? If you mean I was interested in what the father of my child was doing, then, yes, but I had no intention of contacting him. Jeez, Mum, why didn’t you both tell me before?’
‘We didn’t have time. And I wanted to, Immy, I wanted to, but Molly was – Molly was worried and scared.’
Molly took Esme from Brenda. ‘I was going to tell you tomorrow, Mum. I swear.’
‘Hold on. I am here,’ Flynn said. ‘May I suggest we have this conversation when Esme is in bed?’
‘I think that’s a very good idea,’ Brenda said, placing Esme on the carpet, where she started to crawl towards the cat, who shot out of the door before its tail was grabbed.
‘I can see some presents,’ Molly said, with a forced cheerfulness.
‘Yes. Why don’t you open them now?’ Flynn said, wondering what Imogen would make of it all.
‘So many presents … You really have got your feet under the table while I’ve been away,’ Imogen said, chilling the mood like a squall of winter sleet. But even though the temperature had nosedived, Flynn was determined to stay as civil as he could.
At least, he thought, he could leave at the end of the evening. He would not have wanted to be a fly on the wall after he’d gone.
‘I’m making up for lost time,’ Flynn shot back.
‘It’s a lovely thought,’ Brenda said, with a glare for Imogen.
‘I’m going into the kitchen,’ Imogen declared, and didn’t even bother giving a reason. Flynn guessed that she was surprised that her mother had come to his rescue.
‘Come on, let’s open them,’ Molly said, ‘before Esme is too tired and decides to get aggy.’
Flynn decided that the only person in the room who had seemed ‘aggy’ was Imogen and he was relieved she had decided to let them open the gifts in peace, obviously not wanting to be part of the proceedings
Molly’s eyes widened in surprise when she opened her gift.
‘This is beautiful,’ she said, lifting the lid on the luxurious hamper before giving him a shrewd look. ‘Did someone help you choose this?’
He silently thanked Lara for suggesting he pay the extra to have it gift-wrapped in the shop. Even though he didn’t want to drag her into his dramas, he half-wished she were here now with her calming presence. She seemed to understand him so well, even after such a short time.
‘Erm …’
Flynn was saved from completing the sentence by Esme, who had stuffed the wrapping paper from her new wooden blocks in her mouth. The next ten minutes were taken up by Molly helping Esme open her presents and admiring the Peter Rabbit outfits.
Brenda opened the chocolates and shared them round, thanking Flynn and telling him that Friars was her favourite shop. ‘They’re lovely. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I got you something,’ Molly said. ‘Actually, Esme made it at nursery.’
Flynn was taken aback. He had completely overlooked the fact that he might receive a present too.
Molly handed over a card with a foot-shaped paint splodge that had been turned into a creature Flynn recognised as a reindeer.
‘That’s Esme’s footprint,’ she said.
Flynn opened the card and sucked in a breath. It read:
to Grandad Flynn, love from Esme xxx
To see his name written like that: Grandad Flynn. It sounded ancient, and a few weeks ago, he’d have been frankly horrified at the very thought, and yet … he was the opposite of horrified. He felt privileged.