‘Yes, but what about Blanche?’ said Adam, huffing down the phone. ‘You know we probably won’t be back for a while yet.’
‘I’m not sure why that makes a difference.’
‘Because who’s going to—’ Adam broke off, but it was just as Henry had suspected.
‘Who’s going to talk to her? Look after her? Is that it? You know I’ve often wondered why you invite me for Christmas every year, because it certainly doesn’t seem as if it’s because you enjoy my company. And now I know. It might be a bold statement, but you could try talking to Blanche yourself, you and Sofia. Try talking to her as you would any other adult, instead of assuming she’s someone who needs a carer. In fact, even if she did need a carer, wouldn’t that be Sofia’s responsibility? Or is it more that Blanche is in the way, just like I am? You and Sofia will be fine without me, as will Blanche, and I’ll be back in time for all the Christmas festivities anyway. What does it matter?’
‘For God’s sake, Dad, I should have thought it was obvious. Do you know how much trouble Sofia has gone to to make everything perfect for us? How much time that takes, not to mention the expense?’ Henry could almost hear his son wince at the other end of the line, but it was too late; the words were out and Henry knew that Adam’s mistake would very quickly be turned around into a problem of Henry’s making.
‘That’s hardly the point though,’ continued Adam. ‘What Sofia finds so hard, and I admit I understand where she’s coming from, is that it often appears as if all her efforts are being thrown back in her face…You never seem to enjoy the food, or any of our other hospitality. You don’t like coming out with us, you don’t seem to like our friends…’
Henry closed his eyes for a second.Hospitality?What was he, a guest at a hotel? And a needy and irritating one at that? It troubled him just how far apart he and Adam had become. He swallowed and inhaled deeply, hoping it would calm him.
‘Maybe I don’t, Adam. But have you considered that they’re not the kind of people I would choose to spend my time with?’
‘And what does that mean?’
‘Simply that they’re your friends, not mine. We don’t have a lot in common, that’s all.’
‘You say that, but perhaps if you gave them a chance instead of dismissing what they have to say out of hand, you might find it broadens your mind.’
‘Adam, I’m thirty years older than you. It might be a hard concept to understand, but my mind might even be broader than yours. And, over time, I’ve learned what makes me happy. I’ve nothing against your friends, but their views are not mine, which is fine, it happens.However, I’m polite to them. I don’t argue or take exception to the things they say which aren’t to my liking because that would be rude. I also don’t want to upset you because Idounderstand the trouble you and Sofia go to.’He paused. ‘Look, I don’t want to get into an argument about this, and it’s not about being ungrateful for all that you do, or throwing it back in your face, but instead, suggesting that maybe you don’t need to try sohard. I come to seeyou. You and Sofia. I don’t care if I’m eating Marks and Spencer’s finest or that my napkins match the colours on the Christmas tree. That’s not what it’s about.’
There was an ominous silence, and Henry could imagine all too well the expression on his son’s face.
‘Fine. So you’re going then, are you?’ he said after a moment. ‘Driving halfway across the country on a whim.’
‘I’d like to, yes,’ replied Henry, ignoring his last comment. It was perilously close to what the little voice in his head was saying. ‘My friend is all on her own. One of her only relatives, an elderly aunt who she cares about deeply, has just been taken to hospital and this is already a really bad time for her. If I can help in any way, then I’d like to. It’s as simple as that.’
‘Then I’ll tell Sofia she needn’t cater for you this evening.’
Henry gritted his teeth. As if one less would make any difference at all, given the feast that she would no doubt be preparing.
‘Enjoy the rest of your lunch,’ he said. ‘I’ll phone to let you know when I’m on my way back.’
He paused in case Adam might want to tell him to drive safely or hope that his friend’s aunt would be okay, but he wasn’t surprised when neither of those things happened. ‘See you later,’ he added and disconnected the call.
Henry wasn’t all that familiar with the hospital, thankfully only having been there once or twice, but it was like many others of its kind – enormous, impersonal, and with a car park that in no way catered for the number of people who wished to use it. Inside themain foyer was a dazzling array of information, all imparted on a number of huge boards inside a concourse made of shiny tiles and glass and steel. There were coffee shops and a newsagent, seating areas and desks, and a row of lifts each with a number above them corresponding to colour-coded areas of the hospital. It made him dizzy just looking at it all.
A quick scout about revealed no one who looked remotely like Peg, and so Henry made his way to the main information board. It listed all the hospital departments, and readily showed him that Peg might, in fact, be anywhere. He knew that her aunt had a suspected broken wrist, but that could place her in any one of several areas – X-ray? Orthopaedics? Henry had no way of knowing. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he tried to think logically. If Mim had been brought to the hospital with a suspected break, she’d be in an ambulance, which meant that she would have been taken to A&E – perhaps that was the most obvious place for her, and by extension, Peg, to be. Checking the directions on the board, Henry spun around and retraced his steps.
Sadly, even this close to Christmas, the A&E department was full of people. Anxious or pain-filled expressions met his searching looks and Henry dropped his head, embarrassed to be intruding on their space. It only took a matter of seconds to see that Peg wasn’t there, and even less to realise that he should never have come. What on earth would he say to Peg if he found her? Meeting up on the motorway had been a happy coincidence that was easy to accept, but seeing one another again here would be a step too far. Tutting to himself, he turned to leave. He’d pay a quick visit to the bathroom, grab something to eat from a vending machine, and be on his way before he made things any worse.
The gents had run out of paper towels and he was still attempting to remove some of the water from his hands byswiping them down his trousers, when he passed a tiny relatives’ room opposite the intensive care department. He knew he shouldn’t, but it was almost a reflex action to glance through the window in the door as he passed. And there she was – Peg, head bent, with her plaits touching her knees and one hand holding up a tissue to her face. Her handbag was on the chair beside her, clearly dropped there by someone who didn’t care where it landed. It gaped open, its contents almost spilling on the floor. It was a picture of such abject grief that Henry felt his breath catch in his throat. He’d been lucky in his life so far; death had stayed away. Both his parents were still alive, siblings too, and close friends. But clearly Peg had not been shown the same consideration, and he had no idea what to do.
All his instincts were to provide comfort, but he hardly knew her, and given how distressed she was, would she welcome that comfort from a virtual stranger? If he were in her position he would probably question Henry’s motives, and the thought brought him up short.Washe there to simply offer kindness, or was it something else? The difficulty was that even interrogating his brain didn’t reveal the answer. Henry simply didn’t know. He was a fool, though, that much was evident.
He crept away, furious with himself, and filled with an emotion he was struggling to put a name to. He was back in his car before he understood what it was. It was pain, but not the physical sort which came from an injury or an upset, but the very particular kind which came from being utterly helpless in the face of someone else’s.
Pulling out of the car park, he began the weary drive home. No, not home; to his son’s house. He’d give anything to be at home right now.
8
CHRISTMAS EVE
Peg sat down, leaning her back against the solid oak of the pew she was sitting on and willed it to imbue her with its strength. Stone arched high above her, to where, only moments before, their voices had soared, filling the space with joy. She clung onto the thought that, even during times of grief, there were moments of vibrant life to be found. She had discovered this in the years after Julian had died, and it was just as true now.
There was something about this building which always made her feel humble, grateful for all the things she had in her life, even the things she had lost. At this time of year, when the season was all about wanting, it was enormously hard to remember. Maybe that’s why she liked coming here on this particular day – as a reminder to herself.
