‘Not exactly,’ replied Adam. ‘But the human body is an incredible thing. I’m sure he’ll be back to his old self before we know it. God, I’m just so relieved…’
‘Me too.’
There was the expected clamour for information as soon as they arrived back at the house, but Peg excused herself as soon as she could, citing her desire for another cup of tea as the reason.
She stood at the sink, staring out into the garden. Only three days ago everything in her world had been perfect. She had gathered holly from the wood and was looking forward, both to Christmas, and then the expanse of time ahead. Peaceful time. Time during which she could work on her articles, losing herself in both the words and her illustrations as she looked forward to the spring. But just over four years ago she had stood in the exact same spot, knowing that her life would never be the same again. On that occasion her head had been filled with thoughts of all the things she would need to do in order to care for Julian – changes she would need to make to the way in which she did things – changes to her work – changes to the house. She hadn’t yet known whether Julian would be able to manage the stairs.Then he had died, and all those thoughts had vanished in an instant. And however much Peg didn’t want to think about them, now those same thoughts were back.
Setting the kettle to boil, she wandered through to the living room to see if anyone was ready for pudding yet. She had a sudden urge for sweetness.
There were the remains of Sofia’s pavlova, but also the yule log and the ginger and date loaf that she had brought back from Mim’s. Plus mince pies and Christmas cake. She laid them all out on the table, encouraging everyone to come and eat. The way she was feeling she wanted a helping of each, but in the end she settled for her favourite – the ginger and date loaf, with a mince pie on the side, served warm and smothered in thick cream.
Full of food and beginning to feel rather sleepy, Peg let her gaze drift idly around the table. The events of the day were beginning to catch up with her, and if the silence from the others was anything to go by, they were feeling it too. It was companionable though, the aftermath of tension released by good food.
‘I’ve got some After Eight mints if anyone has room for them,’ she said, more for the girls’ benefit than anyone else’s. She knew how much they loved them.
From beside her, Izzy laid a hand on her arm.
‘I’ll get them, Mum. You sit still.’
So Peg did as she was told, realising as the chocolates were placed on the table that rather than retake her seat, Izzy had come to stand behind her. She was talking to Mim, who had asked about their holiday, but also pulling the band from Peg’s hair at the same time. Peg leaned back, feeling her shoulders drop even further as Izzy deftly divided her hair into three and began to plait it.
Peg had often wondered whether this was the reason she still wore her hair long, simply because it was a reminder ofjust this feeling, of her daughter’s hands in her hair and the closeness of the bond between them. When they were little, she had plaited the girls’ hair straight from the bath when they were warm and cosy, tired from a busy day, and as they grew, she had continued. It was such a simple thing, but they had always found it a soothing balm in times of stress, and so had she. Such was the automatic nature of it now that Peg didn’t even think Izzy realised she was doing it. Carrying on with her conversation as she passed each section of hair, one over the other, scarcely looking at her hands.
Idly, Peg smiled at Sofia who was sitting opposite her, and the look on her face was so unexpected that it stopped Peg’s reverie in its tracks. At first she thought that Sofia was looking at her, but then she realised that her eyeline was higher. She was looking at Izzy and her expression was…hollow. She seemed transfixed by Izzy’s actions.
A moment later, Sofia’s chair scraped across the floor as she pushed it backwards, getting up rather awkwardly. ‘Excuse me, I just need to pop to the loo.’
No one else seemed to have noticed anything amiss, but Peg narrowed her eyes, thinking. Sofia’s expression had been in such contrast to her cheerful mood during dessert, that Peg couldn’t help but wonder what had caused such a change. Waiting a few more minutes until Izzy had finished plaiting, she got to her feet, giving her daughter a tight hug before slipping into the living room.
‘I’ll just check the fire,’ she murmured, although no one else seemed bothered by her leaving. They were all in the same soporific state that she had been.
She met Sofia making her way back down the stairs.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked. ‘You looked a little lost in there.’
Sofia flushed, embarrassed at having been caught out. ‘Yes, fine, I…’ She was flustered now too, and struggling to find a reply. Her gaze dropped to the floor and, if she could see them, Peg wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see tears in her eyes. She’d obviously misjudged quite how badly Henry’s accident had affected Sofia.
‘I’m sorry. I’m worn out, I think. That must be what it is and…’ Her voice caught in her throat. ‘I have really bad cramps.’ She smiled weakly. ‘Horrible timing.’
It might be a good excuse, if it were true, because Peg was certain that’s what it was. There was far more to the look on Sofia’s face than just discomfort caused by period pains. It was the way she was looking at Izzy, as if…
Peg would give her the benefit of the doubt, but there was an inkling of something beginning to form in her mind. And she wondered whether Blanche had ever noticed it, or Henry…
She gave Sofia a sympathetic smile. ‘I’ve some paracetamol if that would help,’ she said.
‘Thank you. But I’ve already taken a couple I had in my bag. I’m sure they’ll kick in soon.’
‘I think you’re also far more stressed than you realise. Apart from what’s happened since yesterday, I would imagine you’ve been busy for weeks, organising everything for Christmas. Henry mentioned before how much you like to entertain. And that’s without factoring in your day job. It’s a lot to take on, and I know what that pressure can do to you.’
Sofia nodded. ‘I know it can’t be helped, but all that preparation and planning has been for nothing now. And I hate letting everyone down.’
It might have been the effect of eating pudding in the warm kitchen which had caused Sofia’s cheeks to flush, but Peg wasn’t convinced that was the real reason. Not at all.
17
27 DECEMBER
‘Earth to Mum,’ said Phoebe, waving a hand across Peg’s face. ‘Is everything all right? You’re staring into space.’
