Henry was astonished. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘That’sexactlywhat I see when I look at Adam and the way he and Sofia live their lives. All that striving, wanting more, wanting different, and yet none of it will alter the way they’re feeling. It’s something else which is off, and until they work out what that is, nothing will fundamentally change.’
Peg tipped her head to one side. ‘So what’s the problem then?’
‘That’s just it,’ said Henry, scratching his head. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’
Henry rested his spoon in his bowl. He didn’t think he could eat another mouthful, but the chocolate pudding had looked so enticing – oozing with sauce and served with cream so thick you could stand a spoon up in it – that Henry’s willpower had entirely deserted him. And that was after he’d laid waste to a plateful of roast chicken with all the trimmings. Not quite the traditional turkey, as Peg had said on more than one occasion, but she preferred chicken and he had to say he agreed with her. The meal had been nothing less than superb.
It had also been relaxed, with conversation that flowed amid laughter and general good humour, and Henry couldn’t help but compare it to the one he would have eaten had he stayed at Adam’s house. It was the only thing which soured his stomach.
He insisted on doing the washing-up while Peg sat down, something which, much to Henry’s surprise, she agreed to, telling him to just stack the dishes on the drainer and leave them to dry. And it was nice, peaceful, pottering in her kitchen among the plants and bunches of herbs dangling from the beams. He dried everything as well – it didn’t seem right to leave it – stacking the crockery and pans on the side once he’d finished so that Peg could return them to their rightful places.
By the time he returned to the living room, the house was still, and quiet, just the ticking of a clock somewhere, but even that seemed slow and soothing. Peg had curled herself into the corner of the sofa, one arm propping up her head, with a book open on her lap.
‘Is this what you’d be doing if I wasn’t here?’ he asked.
She looked up, smiling lazily. ‘I expect so. Or perhaps doing a jigsaw. Something which wouldn’t take me too far away from the fire, in any case.’
‘I don’t blame you.’ The log burner had died down to a bed of glowing ashes, but he could still feel the heat from it, gently radiating into the room. Peg didn’t look like she was going anywhere and so he crossed to the bookcase that lined one wall.
‘May I?’ he asked.
‘Be my guest,’ replied Peg, waving a nonchalant hand. ‘They might not be your cup of tea, but see what you can find.’
There was no order to any of the books on the shelves – gardening books nestled against fiction, a first-aid manual beside a book of poetry – but he rather liked it that way. You had to really look to see what was there, and Henry smiled as some familiar titles appeared. After a few moments, he came to a series of detective novels by an author he admired, titles which he hadn’t yet got around to reading. He selected the first, drawing it from the shelf and turning it to read the information on the back.
‘Are these any good?’ he asked, holding up the book so that Peg could see the cover.
‘Wonderful,’ she replied. ‘And each one seems better than the last.’
Henry carried it to the chair and turned to the dedication. It was something he always did.For Anne McIntyre, he read, and he smiled, wondering who Anne was and what she had done to make her worthy of the dedication. Then, turning the page, he settled down to read.
He had barely finished the first chapter, however, when Peg’s cat suddenly jumped into his lap. It kneaded his legs gently, turning first one way and then the other, nuzzling its head against him before curling itself into a ball and settling down to sleep.
‘I ought to be getting back,’ he said, suddenly aware of what he was doing. ‘And let you have some of the day in peace.’
Peg smiled. ‘Perhaps…But at least let your dinner go down first.’
She didn’t seem in any hurry for him to leave, and so Henry dipped his head to the book once more. Hedidneed to return, well aware that there was still a situation to resolve, apologies to be made and conversations to be had, but he felt far more able to do so now. Perhaps thiswasall he’d needed, some time away from the situation, some distance in which to order his thoughts and gain a different perspective. His hand lowered to stroke the cat’s back, its expanse of fur soft and warm. He would go soon, maybe just another couple of chapters.
The words, however, began to dance on the page, becoming more and more jumbled as sleep began to soften the edges of his vision. His head dropped forward, and even though he jerked it up again, the same thing happened moments later. This time he let it fall. He was so cosy, so comfortable, relaxed for the first time in what felt like ages. Maybe he’d just rest his eyes for ten minutes or so…
11
CHRISTMAS DAY
Putting her book to one side, Peg got up and wandered through to the kitchen where she stood in a dither of indecision. She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted. A cup of tea? Or something to eat? But she’d not long had a couple of those especially chocolatey biscuits and there was still tea in the pot from her last cup. She glanced at her watch. Perhaps she could work on her article for an hour or so, but it was the holidays, and she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. Plus, there was plenty of time before it needed to be submitted to her editor. She eyed Rolo, who was curled up in his basket beside the range, a paw over his nose. He was there for the duration.
‘See, if you were a dog, you’d drag me out for a walk and that would be that, but…’ The cat made no movement at all. Peg sighed. Perhaps she’d read a couple more chapters of her book.
The knock on the door startled her. Odd…Judith was with her daughter and grandchildren today. Besides, it was a hurried knock, purposeful, not perfunctory like Judith’s was. And if itwasher, she’d have opened the door and come in by now. Peg frowned, slightly irritated. It was Christmas Day, for heaven’s sake, who would come calling now? It wasn’t that she guardedher solitude, Judith often came unannounced, but like a lot of people her age, Peg had become accustomed to routine and found it hard when that altered, yet…
She pulled open the door, causing the woman outside to practically fall through it.
‘Oh, thank God you’re in,’ she said. ‘I’ve had to knock on three doors before I found someone who could tell me where you lived. No one’s in, or they aren’t answering.’
‘Well, it is Christmas Day, people are busy,’ replied Peg. She stared at the woman, recognition firing as she overcame her surprise. ‘Sofia? What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I’m sorry…this is…’ Sofia stopped, her features contorting. ‘I don’t even know how I’m supposed to say this, for goodness’ sake. I mean, I’m not even sure Adam’s got it right…’
