CHAPTER 58
Nicholas
London
While he was in London, Nicholas met up with Celie for lunch at a Greek restaurant in Muswell Hill. She’d sounded pleased to hear from him.
‘Do you want me and Tom, or just me?’ she’d asked him on the phone when they arranged the date. ‘Either’s cool.’
‘I’m happy either way,’ he told her, which wasn’t quite true, but . . .
‘I’ll come on my own then – Tom’s got things to do.’
‘Great.’ Nicholas grinned. Father and daughter alone time was always special.
He made it in an hour and found the place easily. The decor was cream and terracotta and Celie had said the food was simple and good. Nicholas was relieved – he was a hungry man.
‘Dad! Sorry, sorry.’ She flung her arms around his neck when she arrived. She was fifteen minutes late, but he didn’t mind. He’d wait for hours if he had to.
‘Hi, darling.’ Reluctantly, he disentangled himself from her embrace. She smelt of orange blossom. ‘How are you?’
‘Good, thanks.’
And she looked it. She was wearing jeans – presumably with a stretchy waistline – brown boots and a baggy red sweater. Her dark brown hair was tied into a ponytail with a red ribbon – she didn’t look old enough to get married, let alone to be a mother.
Now they were at arm’s length she was eyeing him critically. ‘But you haven’t just got back from Italy.’ She frowned. ‘Where were you? I called your mobile. I even tried calling you at home.’
‘Prague.’ He felt guilty now for switching his mobile off.
He hadn’t wanted to be bothered by Giuseppe asking him about business or Rachel talking about weddings.
After what he saw on the Charles Bridge in Prague, he’d wanted to take a bit of time out.
He had a decision to make. He hadn’t thought that Celie might worry.
‘Prague? Was it a work thing?’ She settled herself in the chair opposite him.
‘No.’ He wasn’t sure he’d be able to explain exactly what sort of a ‘thing’ it was.
‘Why did you go there then?’ Celie was good at cross-examination – she must have inherited the genes from her mother, he thought.
‘There were some things I had to check out.’ Nicholas decided to keep it vague for now. ‘And Prague’s too interesting to be rushed. The architecture, the history, the Charles Bridge . . .’
‘Hmm.’ Celie was half listening, half perusing the menu. Which was fine.
Nicholas picked up his own menu. He decided not to tell her about Joanna Shepherd – not yet, anyway. And he decided not to tell her about what – or who – he’d seen on the bridge either; she’d think he was cracking up. And perhaps he was . . .
On the flight back from Prague he’d thought about Joanna, and about the woman he’d seen on the bridge.
There was bound to be a simple explanation – there always was.
And the mind could play tricks – especially if you were tired or run-down.
Was he tired or run-down? He hadn’t thought so.
But he had been dashing around here, there and everywhere lately.
He had been feeling . . . well, not right.
And that’s why he’d made the decision he had.
He wanted to do something different for a while.
And no one else could change your life – not really. Only you.
They chatted about Celie’s work and Tom and compared notes about the trip to Rome. Nicholas felt himself slowly relax, his shoulders drop, his guard fall. Relaxation – how the hell had it got to be so difficult? But he had plans now. Plans that could change all that.
They ordered their food. Celie looked flushed and happy and he was glad. But as they waited for it to arrive, she touched his hand across the table. ‘I’m sorry now,’ she said, ‘that I let Mum railroad me into this silly, double wedding idea.’
‘Having second thoughts?’
The waitress brought his beer and Celie’s mineral water.
‘Not about the wedding.’ Briefly, she touched her belly, as if protecting her unborn child from the very thought. ‘But about us doing the double act. I mean, it kind of dilutes everything, doesn’t it?’
‘Hmm.’ Too bloody right, he thought. Rachel hadn’t exactly been putting her daughter first when she suggested it.
‘And what about you?’
‘Me?’
‘I don’t want to upset you, Dad,’ she said. ‘Obviously.’
‘So, you don’t want to do it because of me?
’ Nicholas wasn’t sure how honest to be with her.
The last thing he wanted to do was spoil her plans, but on the other hand he really wasn’t sure he could do it – stand there and watch another man marry his ex-wife.
He was no longer tied to Rachel. But it still seemed wrong somehow.
Celie giggled. ‘We’re talking about eloping,’ she said. ‘And besides, what’s the point of going to Italy to get married? What’s wrong with doing it in a register office here in the UK? Lots of people do.’
Nicholas traced a pattern in the condensation on his glass. He liked this kind of beer when it was very, very cold. ‘I expect your mother would tell you what’s wrong with it,’ he observed. If Celie dared tell her.
Celie nodded glumly. ‘She already has. She says it’d be a hole in the corner affair rather than a celebration. She says we’d always regret it and our memories would be tainted.’
Nicholas sighed. Typical Rachel. She’d always had a way with words.
And why put a spanner in the works when a JCB digger would do?
‘Honey.’ He squeezed Celie’s hand. ‘You and Tom should do it how you want to do it. Never mind what your mother wants. Never mind what I want. I just want you to be happy.’
She smiled at him gratefully. Why did parents put so much pressure on their kids? he wondered. Why did they need them to fulfil all their own dreams? He hoped he hadn’t done that with Celie.
The waiter brought their food. It looked good. The salad was crisp and green and the olives plump and black. Celie’s halloumi was lightly grilled and the hummus was creamy, drizzled with olive oil and accompanied by whole chickpeas, roasted red peppers and pitta bread.
‘Then we’ll get married here in London.’ Celie was decisive. ‘But it will be a celebration. That’s what we both want. We’ll invite all our friends and have a big party.’
‘Sounds great.’ Nicholas tucked in. As Celie had promised, it was good. ‘Let me know when it’s to be and I’ll come back for it.’
‘Back for it?’ Celie looked up sharply. ‘You will be here to give me away?’
‘Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ Give her away? In reality, she’d already gone. And he hadn’t so much given her away as stood still and watched her fly. Still, he was glad that his being there mattered so much to her.
‘Good. Because it won’t be a double wedding – that wouldn’t be right and it wouldn’t be fair. And Tom agrees with me.’ Celie cut a slice of her halloumi and scooped up some shredded lettuce with her fork.
Good for Tom. Nicholas was hugely relieved. ‘Thanks, love,’ he said.
Celie put her head to one side and regarded him quizzically. ‘Where are you going then, Dad? Where will you be coming back from this time?’
The million-dollar question. Because Nicholas planned to take a sabbatical – he was going to phone Giuseppe about it later, but to tell the truth, he’d already decided, and nothing his business partner could say would make him change his mind.
He needed this. He planned to take an extended trip, find some new horizons.
He wanted to get away – to continue his journey and find that elusive sense of self he’d let go while he was with Rachel.
Rediscovering his joy of surfing had been an important first step.
Now he wanted to take some time out. The place had always been special to him – it still was.
‘I was thinking of spending a few months in Fuerteventura,’ he said.
‘You could visit me.’ Celie, after all, had loved it when she was a child.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘A holiday?’
‘A bit more than that.’ He’d worked hard. He no longer had a mortgage or any dependents. He could afford it.
Celie was still watching him. ‘Not much to do in Fuerteventura, is there, Dad? Won’t you be bored?’
Nicholas thought of the deserted beaches along the west coast that he planned to discover and explore, the fishing that he used to do with his father.
He thought of surfing. Of sunshine and tranquillity, of rest and recuperation and how long it might take him to decide what to do with the remainder of his life.
He might get lonely without a companion to share the experience with, but he wouldn’t get bored.
‘No, Celie,’ he said. ‘I really don’t think I will. ’