‘Yeah, it made you happy, Dad, but it didn’t make Mum happy. Some might call what you did selfish.’
‘They might. But it’s also about being true to yourself. Knowing who you are, and what brings you alive and celebrates your strengths. It’s also about knowing what erodes your ability to accept your faults with good grace.
‘Your mother no longer liked what she saw when she looked at me, and I can’t help that. And I certainly wasn’t about to jump through all the hoops she wanted me to in order for hertolike me. That isn’t what love is about. If the only way you can love someone is to change them, then something’s not right.’ Henry glared at his son, but his expression was inscrutable and it annoyed him more than ever. ‘Your problem, Adam, is that you’ve never worked out what makes you happy. Or rather, you’ve never given anything a chance to settle for long enough to see if it does. You don’t go hunting for happiness, Adam – if you do it will always be out of reach. Happiness comes to you. It comes when you are living in the present, when you are content, when you fully appreciate everything you have and know that it’s enough. You’re a good teacher. I see a lot of me in you, and you might think that’s a bad thing, but I will never see it that way. I learned early on what made me happy and, believe it or not, that’s all I ever wanted for you. But you need to stop searching for it, Adam, or you’ll never find it.’
Behind him came a furious wail. Sofia flung open the oven door so hard it bounced on its hinges. She dragged a tray from it and practically threw it on top of the hob, where the rows of croissants it contained slid onto its shiny surface leaving a greasy trail behind them.
‘For God’s sake, Henry, now look what you’ve made me do! Everything is burned to hell.’
10
Henry was furious. He was furious for being made to feel like an idiot who knew nothing whatsoever about anything. Furious that it was Christmas Day and yet his son and daughter-in-law seemed to have no concept of the joys of the season, and furious that he had let his son’s remarks get to him and had bitten back with all the thoughts he’d been harbouring for the last few years. Thoughts which had no place being aired when both parties were angry, and particularly not on a day such as this. If he thought last Christmas was difficult, then this one was turning out to hold all the trump cards, but at least he hadn’t stormed out of the house the year before.
He didn’t even know where he was going as he gunned the engine before shooting off the drive, but when he reached the end of the road where his son lived, he realised there was only one place he could go. Only one place hewantedto go. Even though it might turn out to be an even bigger mistake than the one he’d just made. He turned towards Lower Steeping.
As he might have expected, the roads were quiet and Henry hardly saw another car. Not that he would have paid them much attention if he had; his mind was churning with everything thathad just been said. In fact, he was so preoccupied, he scarcely remembered the journey. One minute he was driving and the next he was climbing from his car outside Peg’s cottage.
His heart was in his mouth as he knocked on the bright green front door.
‘Henry! How lovely to see you.’
He so desperately wanted it to be true, and he was relieved to see that Pegdidseem to mean what she’d said. Her smile was just as sunny as he remembered.
‘Sorry, I…’ He felt distinctly uncomfortable. ‘I’ve just had a row with my son and, much to my regret, flounced from the house like a sulky teenager. Trouble was, once I’d closed the door behind me, I wasn’t sure where to go. I didn’t feel like creeping back in and having to make grovelling apologies, so…’
‘You came tomydoor?’
‘Which sounds bad, I know. Quite offensive, actually.’ He pulled a face. ‘Sorry,’ he said again.
But to his surprise, Peg simply smiled. ‘I shall take it as a compliment. Come in, and I’ll make you a coffee. You look as if you could do with one.’ She pulled the door open, stepping back from the threshold.
Henry stood on the doormat for a moment, not quite believing his luck as he looked around him much as a child might gaze at sweets in a shop. ‘This is lovely,’ he said, eyes wide as he took in the details of the cluttered kitchen. It was exactly as he had pictured.
A scrubbed wooden table stood in the middle of the space, above which dangled an array of greenery from a low ceiling criss-crossed with beams. Whitewashed stone walls were either hung with pictures, or filled with an array of shelves housing an assortment of crockery, and flowered curtains hung at the window. A shelf had been fixed across it in order to display a selection of coloured glass, and the whole room glowed withiridescent light. And in one corner stood a dark blue Aga, in front of which a cat was curled into its basket. He could feel his blood pressure lowering by the minute.
‘Thank you,’ said Peg. ‘I like it too. And we don’t fuss about the outside coming in,’ she added, seeing he was about to remove his shoes. ‘Mud is a bit of an occupational hazard living where I do. We don’t stand on ceremony either. You can pop your coat on there.’ She pointed to a row of hooks on the wall by the door which already held an assortment of jackets, hats and scarves.
Waiting until he had unburdened himself, she led him into her sitting room. ‘Have a seat…although in case it bothers you I should warn you that the one by the window will be covered in cat hair.’ She smiled. ‘Now, coffee, is it, or would you prefer tea?’
Henry sank into one of the two chairs either side of the fireplace, where a log burner danced with flame. The heat was soothing.
‘Coffee would be lovely, thank you. Just milk, please.’
With Peg busy in the kitchen, he took the opportunity to study more of his surroundings. Peg’s sitting room looked out on to the road with a clear view of the village green and its collection of ducks. They were the only things moving, though – swimming slowly around the pond – the rest of the village was still and silent. All he could hear was the faint ticking of a clock.
He pressed his back further into the chair and took a deep, calming breath. The chair opposite was different from the one he was sitting in, as was the broad sofa, which all but filled the space against one wall. A large bookcase stood against another, a little too small for all the titles which were crammed onto it, so that piles also rested on the floor – a floor which was partially covered in an enormous faded rug. Nothing in this room matched, but Henry didn’t think he’d been anywhere so perfect.
Moments later, Peg reappeared with a fully laden tray which she placed on a wide footstool doing service as her coffee table. ‘Look what I found…’ she said, lifting a tin from it. The same tin which held the mince pies they’d shared while sitting in the traffic jam. Was that really only three days ago?
Henry shook his head in amusement. ‘Sofia doesn’t make hers, she gets them from a local bakery.’ He took one of the proffered treats. ‘It’s award-winning, apparently.’ He took a bite, nonchalantly transferring fallen flakes of pastry from his lap to his mouth.
‘I’m sorry you’ve had such an awful visit,’ said Peg.
Henry chewed for a moment. ‘It’s not been all bad, it’s…’ He trailed off, frowning. He’d been about to fill in some of the details from the last couple of days, but it was as if his brain had stuck fast. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. ‘I guess this morning’s argument has just eclipsed everything.’
‘What happened?’ asked Peg gently.
Henry sighed. ‘Sofia and Adam were arguing about the size of their dining room when I came down to breakfast this morning, which, by the way, is plenty big enough. Something just snapped, and I’m afraid I rather said some things I shouldn’t.’
