‘I haven’t had cheese and beetroot in years. I might…just half, though. Are you sure you don’t mind? Isn’t this your lunch?’
‘Yes, but I’ve already eaten half a bag of sweets, I’m hardly faint with hunger.’
‘In that case, thank you. I’ll save the mince pie for dessert.’
‘So,’ she said, once they were settled and busy eating. ‘Your son and daughter-in-law. You’re staying with them for Christmas?’
‘Hmm. I do so every year. The twenty-second to the twenty-seventh. And not just my son and daughter-in-law, it’s her mother too – Blanche.’
‘So that would be your son’s mother-in-law…sounds like a winning combination for any Christmas gathering.’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘It’s not so bad…’ He broke off with a wry glance. ‘Actually, sometimes it’s awful, but I get to see my son – Adam – and that doesn’t happen all that often. And for all that I make rude noises about Sofia, she’s a good cook, and…I don’t imagine having her mum and father-in-law to stay is her favourite way of spending Christmas either. Blanche can be a little…spiky. She’s a good ally at times, when she’s in the mood. When she’s not, she hardly speaks. Sometimes I think they only invite me so that I can talk to her and they won’t have to.’
Peg studied him. ‘Do you mean that? Because if you do, that’s rather sad.’
Henry stared through the windscreen ahead. ‘Do I mean that?’ He paused. ‘No, not really. But, like a lot of things we often jest about, it has its basis in truth. My son and I have lost something along the way. We were always very close before but now we’re like strangers, well-meaning but awkward and uncomfortable in one another’s company. But I’m his dad, and it’s Christmas, so…’ He left the sentence hanging the air.
Peg understood exactly what he was getting at – duty – one of those horrible words which seemed to raise its head far more at certain times of life. These days the tables had turned – nolonger did Peg feel it towards her children, but instead they now felt it towards her. And it was a horrible reminder of age, of changing circumstances. It’s also one of the main reasons why her children had gone skiing for Christmas, because Duty went hand in hand with Burden, something she’d only recently begun to think about. She thrust her thoughts away, turning them back to what Henry had said.
‘So why the change between you and your son? You said you were closebefore. Did something happen to change that?’ She checked herself. ‘Sorry, it’s none of my business.’
Henry picked up a fallen crumb from his lap and absently ferried it to his mouth.
‘No, it’s fine, no great shakes. I got divorced. And for perhaps the first time in his life, my son was forced to look at his parents as individuals, as people rather than simply a presence in his life. There was also an element of taking sides, something his mother was keen to see happen, which, given that she now lives in Canada, is somewhat ironic. But my son looked, and I don’t think he was overly taken with what he saw.’
Peg winced at his words. ‘That sounds rather harsh.’
Henry shrugged. ‘The truth often is. Idothink he’s been listening to his mother rather more than is good for him, and before you ask, no, I’m not bitter at all…’ He broke off, giving a reticent smile. ‘But since the divorce it’s as if he goes out of his way to prove that he’s different from me, so what does that tell you? It’s as if he’s suddenly lost the ability to see me as he always has, and instead has turned me into a stereotype who bears no relation to me at all.’
‘Does that happen often?’ asked Peg, made curious by his words. ‘The stereotype thing, I mean. Do you think people treat you differently now you’re divorced?’
‘All the time,’ replied Henry, not even taking a moment to think. ‘They make assumptions, too. My friends all assumed my wife had an affair, and her friends all assumed it was me.’
‘And did you? Or she?’
‘Nope. On both counts. It might have been easier if we had. People seem to prefer it when they can pick someone to blame.’
Peg nodded. ‘It’s odd, the assumptions people make. I almost lost my best friend after my husband died. It was the strangest thing – as if I’d changed my personality overnight. I agree some thingsaredifferent – how could I not be affected by what happened? But I’m fundamentally the same. I didn’t chase after her husband when mine was alive, and I certainly didn’t want to after he’d died. That’s what she thought, though – that I’d suddenly become some kind of predatory merry widow. It really hurt when I worked out the reason why she had been keeping her distance, more so because it was then that I needed her friendship more than ever.’
‘Hmm. It’s nonsensical, but I think we’re all programmed to see stereotypes to some degree. Women think divorced men are all going through a midlife crisis, are weak, fairly pathetic, oh and chauvinistic, lazy, self-obsessed…whereas men think we’re living the good life.’
It wasn’t something Peg had given much thought to in the past, but she could see how easily she could assume such things, possibly already did. ‘And so by extension, a divorced woman is either a man-hating feminist or a poor downtrodden victim depending on your persuasion.’ She frowned. ‘That’s appalling.’
‘That’s human nature,’ Henry replied, shrugging. ‘And my son has definitely placed me firmly in the box labelled weak and fairly pathetic, and so in an attempt to ensure that he turns out nothing like me, has married a woman who expects nothing less than perfection and now lives his life in a permanently conflicted state.’ Henry’s sigh echoed around the car. ‘It’s also, I suspect,down to the fact that I don’t altogether approve of his choice of partner. Not that I say anything, of course, but I reckon he’s worked it out. He thinks I should have no opinion because my own marriage failed, so what do I know? Whereas I think I’m blessed with that awful affliction parents have and should never let their children see…’
‘Wisdom?’
‘Not sure it’s that in my case. Simply that I’ve had a lot more years on the planet than he has and time has given me a broader scope of experience. It’s also that from a distance I can see things that, up close, are hidden from my son…’
Peg made an apologetic face. ‘We’re complicated creatures, aren’t we?’
Henry smiled. ‘That we are. If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been on your own?’
‘Four years…’ She swallowed. ‘Almost to the day. My husband died on the twenty-sixth of December, Boxing Day.’
3
Henry could kick himself. What a stupid thing to have asked. What did it matter when her husband died? The fact that he had was bad enough. And now here they were, only days from the anniversary. Henry hadn’t had a hugely fun time of things when he and Linda divorced, but at least she was still alive. ‘I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have asked.’
