Chapter 7 #2
He remained silent for a while and Callie sensed he was thinking of something profound in his own life, but his next words belied her guess.
‘I can’t imagine my mother doing something so heartless to her children and grandchildren.
I mean, she’s a terrific snob, likes everything done just so, has the highest of expectations, but family is at the core of everything she does. Hence the party for the christening.’
‘So why did you leave early?’
Giving her a speculative glance from his vivid grey eyes he said, ‘It pales into insignificance compared to what you’ve gone through.’
‘I’d still like to hear.’
‘Really? You would?’
She settled more comfortably into the deck chair and stole a crisp.
The sun had slid over into the west now and the garden was in shade.
It was still warm though. ‘I’m feeling incredibly lazy and have no inclination to move.
Besides, always enjoy the pastoral role I have with my pupils. I’m a good listener.’
‘You are.’ He gave her a warm smile which did something severely clinical to her insides. ‘I warn you, though, even I think I come out of this sounding pretentious and self-indulgent.’
Callie laughed. ‘Go ahead. Think I’ll cope.’
Putting his wine glass down he scrubbed a hand over his face.
‘I’m the only child who hasn’t settled down, hasn’t produced grandchildren.
In their minds all I’ve done is racket around the world writing down a few words.
I don’t think they’ve ever really understood what I did.
’ He screwed up his face. ‘At the party I was getting the third-degree interrogation about my lifestyle.’
Callie picked up on the past tense. ‘Did? Have you retired? You’re far too young.’
‘I’m forty-five. Too early to retire as you say. I’ve changed what I do. Taken a swerve. Got fed up living out of a suitcase, changing assignments every three years.’
Callie wondered if he’d expand on why he’d changed job, mention being a foreign correspondent, talk about the impact of it but he simply picked up the bowl of crisps and ate a few before handing it to her. ‘So now you’ve settled in England?’ she asked.
‘Yup. Gone freelance. Might write a book. Maybe. Something else my family doesn’t understand.
It’s not a good solid profession like accountancy or banking, you see.
’ Idly twirling his wine glass by its stem he added, ‘I’m not an expensive person, I drive a battered old Fiat, don’t need much.
I’m taking some time out to…’ he paused, ‘…regroup, I suppose.’
‘Doesn’t sound too awful.’ Callie thought it sounded like heaven. She longed for a chance to leap off the treadmill.
‘I don’t think it is but my family don’t see it like that. They worry about me. Want me to have some stability.’
‘And you’ve never felt the need?’
He shook his head, lips pursing. ‘Always liked the life. I’ve seen the world, including places many don’t have the privilege to get to, met some fascinating people, encountered some truly terrifying ones, worked with great teams.’
‘But now?’
‘Got older. Got tired.’ He blew out a breath.
‘Beginning to appreciate having my own bed, having more than a shelf of books around me.’ He drank some wine.
‘There might be a time I go back on the road again but at the moment it feels good to sit back. Chill as Jess would say. Of course, my parents can’t understand, now I’ve settled back in the UK, why I haven’t bought a house, found a wife, had a tribe of children. ’
‘That’s not on the agenda then?’
He laughed. ‘Don’t you start. Remind me never to introduce you to my aunts.’
‘You’ve lots of sisters, haven’t you? I seem to remember you saying you had, what, four, five?’
‘Four sisters. And they all have children. From seventeen down to six months.’
‘Big family then. Were they all at the party?’
‘Oh yes. All of them.’
He said it so mournfully Callie giggled. ‘Oh dear. Are they that bad?’
‘Worse,’ Johnny replied. ‘My mother’s sisters, my aunts Sybil, Rebecca and Maria, hunt as a pack of three. They pinned me down insisting on knowing why I hadn’t got a wife and thirty-two children and a mortgage on a five-bed in the suburbs.’
Callie burst out in a peal of laughter. ‘You don’t seem the sort of fit for a house in the suburbs. You seem very urban to me.’
‘Thank you!’ He clinked his glass with hers in a salute. ‘You can see that. Why can’t my family?’
‘They just want you to be happy.’
‘I am happy.’
Callie didn’t reply. Under the charming surface she sensed the opposite.
‘You’re wrong about one thing though. When I was with the BBC it made sense to live in London whenever I was in the UK and it’s true I’ve lived in some of the most major cities in the world: Cairo, Moscow, New York, Bangkok, but I’ve just moved to Stratford.
Thought I’d try a small town for a change.
And I have to confess it could be seen as suburban. ’
‘Stratford’s nice.’ Callie didn’t add she thought it a strange choice for him. ‘Not quite Bangkok though.’
‘That it isn’t but I’m a Shakespeare buff.’
‘Oh.’
‘Surprised?’
‘I am actually.’
‘Fully paid-up Silver Level Patron of the RSC.’
‘Then Stratford is the place to be.’ His choice made more sense now.
‘Think there’s something on at the castle here in Lullbury Bay.
’ Callie’s brow furrowed as she tried to remember the details, her brain fuzzy with alcohol.
‘Open air theatre? Might be Twelfth Night? Not going to compete with the Royal Shakespeare Company but might be worth seeing.’
‘Shall we go? I’d love to. Would you like to accompany a down-at-heel ex-journalist who is doing his best to flee from family life?’
He said it casually, but Callie was very aware of how their relationship had shifted. In a short space of time, over wine and Kettle chips, from strangers who happened to share a house, a friendship had developed. ‘I’d really like that.’
‘Okay. I’ll look into it.’
‘Tell you what I need to look into.’ She peered into her empty glass.
‘What’s that?’
‘Food. How about I make some pasta? Something simple but filling, and to soak up the alcohol.’
He got up effortlessly and stretched his arms above his head, easing out the kinks in his neck. ‘I was a bagful of tension when I got back here this afternoon but this – talking to you, I mean – has helped so much. And,’ he added, grinning down at her, ‘pasta sounds wonderful.’
‘That’s unless you tell me you’ve lived in Naples too?’ Callie squinted up and tried to slide out of the deck chair but couldn’t get purchase on the slippery canvas.
‘Need a hand?’
‘I do,’ she replied helplessly, beginning to giggle. He hauled her up and she wobbled against him. ‘Whoops. I told you I should have drunk more water. Drinking wine in the sunshine goes straight to my head.’
‘Then there’s only one solution.’
‘What’s that?’ She put a hand up to his chest enjoying the hard muscle and the scent of sun warmed cotton.
‘We either sober up or open another bottle. And you’re wrong. It wasn’t Naples but I did live in Rome for a short while.’
‘Oh bugger. If you’re used to Italian cooking, there’s only one thing for it then. If I’m forcing my carbonara on you one more bottle may not be enough. We might need the whole crate.’