Now, though, it was New Year’s Day, a day which came with a weight all of its own – the weight of tradition. New starts, and changes and plans, and all the things which Peg, when newly widowed, couldn’t bear to think about. Back then it had seemed the cruellest of days, and even now there was a poignancy to it which was hard to evade. Even Mim seemed unusually quiet this morning.
And to make matters worse, Peg had snapped at Henry when he’d risen from the table to wash up the breakfast things, telling him she would sort them herself. Not surprisingly, he had slunk from the room, and moments later, Mim followed him, leaving Peg staring out of the window, disgusted with herself.
She was still sitting at the table some fifteen minutes later when Henry poked his head back around the door. He waved his phone tentatively, almost as if it was a peace offering.
‘That was Adam,’ he said, still standing on the threshold. ‘He just called to wish us a Happy New Year. All of us, that is.’
Peg nodded, noting theall of us, as opposed to the simpleus, which would clearly have meant just her and Henry.
‘How are they?’ she asked. ‘I hope they found a little time to talk things through. Or were they out partying last night?’
‘That’s just it,’ said Henry, finally coming into the room. ‘On every other New Year’s Eve that would have been the case, but they stayed at home last night. And they’ve asked if we’d like to have lunch with them. Nothing fancy, Adam was keen to stress that.’
Henry was making light of it, but Peg could see how happy he was with the suggestion. It was the type of spur-of-the-moment arrangement he’d been hoping for for years.
‘Are there still matching bows on the backs of the chairs?’ she asked, but then she checked herself. ‘Sorry, that was rude.’ She could still remember the shake of Sofia’s shoulders as she held her.
‘I said I’d ring Adam back to let him know,’ added Henry. ‘Because I wasn’t sure if you had anything planned for today.’
Peg smiled. ‘No, nothing planned.’ In fact, she had no idea what she was going to do with the expanse of time in front of her; her head was all over the place. She felt as if she was fighting an unseen opponent – one whose intentions were not yet clear. And the thought of being alone with Henry had gone fromsomething she scarcely noticed, like wearing her softest jumper, to something which felt horribly scratchy.
‘Tell him that would be lovely,’ she said. Because what else could she do?
Given all that Adam and Sofia were going through, it would be churlish to refuse. No, worse than churlish – it would be a rejection of the very thing which Peg had offered in advice. She’d never turned her back on anyone who’d needed help in the past, and she wasn’t about to start now just because of her own stupid emotions.
Henry’s face lit up at her reply and her traitorous heart swelled at the sight of it. Clearly it wasn’t done making its point.
The drive to Adam’s house was virtually silent, and Peg had no idea what was running through Henry’s head. He was worried, though. Throughout the journey his hands lay in his lap, twisting around themselves repeatedly. It was something he often did, probably without even being aware of it. And she had to admit, she was more than a little apprehensive herself. Adam and Sofia had obviously found some time to talk, but Sofia had still been angry with her husband for keeping things from her, and Peg had no idea what the repercussions of that might be.
She was struck by how different Adam looked as soon as he opened the door, finally able to see the resemblance between father and son. Gone was the Adam in charge, the confident achiever, and in his place was someone a little more humble and uncertain. But he was also smiling.
‘Happy New Year! Dad…Peg, come on in.’ He pulled the door wider, urging them over the threshold so he could give Henry a quick hug. ‘Go on through, Sofia’s in the living room.’
The last time she had seen this room had been on Christmas Day when it was festooned with decorations, but now it was totally devoid of its seasonal dressing. All Peg could see were acres of pale paint, glossy surfaces and curated uniformity. Shesupposed some people would find this kind of style calming, but it made her feel awkward. Just like Sofia had remarked, Peg fitted into her cottage at home, whereas here she felt out of place – too colourful, too unpolished and too lumpy. Sofia, on the other hand, with her slender figure, wearing beautifully tailored light trousers and a white linen shirt, could stand against a wall and look like an elegant decoration herself. Not today, though. Today Sofia was wearing jeans and an old, worn sweatshirt, and was curled into the corner of a sofa with a book in her hand.Shelooked out of place now – relaxed, but no longer a part of her surroundings. And itwasjust as Sofia had said – the woman she wanted to be would look far more at home in Peg’s cosy cottage.
Sofia immediately uncurled her legs and got to her feet, crossing the room to meet Peg’s hug – a warm and heartfelt hug. Peg could see now that the shallow, materialistic woman Peg thought she knew had never really existed. She was no more than a painted shield, behind which the real Sofia had been hiding. And Peg was suddenly very aware how many shields were worn during the course of an average lifetime. How many shieldsshe’dworn. Perhaps it was time to lower hers, too.
Sofia held onto Peg’s hands as they pulled apart, her eyes bright with excitement. ‘Will you come upstairs? I’ve got something I want to show you.’
Unsure of what to do, Peg swung around to look at Henry and Adam, who were still standing behind her. Adam waved a hand. ‘You go,’ he said. ‘Dad, you can give me a hand with lunch, if that’s all right?’ Henry didn’t reply, but then he didn’t need to; his face revealed that he was more than happy with the suggestion.
Peg had no idea what Sofia wanted to show her, but it soon became evident that whatever it was lay in a room which had at some point been her workroom. Now it wasn’t sure what it was. What must have originally looked like the foyerof a plush hotel, with its coffee-coloured tub chairs and fitted shelves and cupboards in complementary shades, now looked like somewhere a tornado had blown through. The doors to the cupboards had been flung wide and the drawers pulled open, their contents disgorged onto the floor, the table – in fact, anywhere they landed. Papers, sample books, fabric, paint charts – all of it lay abandoned.
‘I’m having a bit of a sort-out,’ said Sofia.
‘So I see…’ replied Peg, her eyebrows raised in amusement. ‘Are you sure you aren’t just making a mess?’
Sofia looked around the room, the smile on her face growing wider. ‘I can’t remember the last time I made a mess. I’m really enjoying myself.’ She bent down to pick up a sample book which lay on top of one of the stacks, very much like the ones she had brought to Peg’s house. ‘Some of the wallpapers in this book are over two hundred pounds a roll, can you believe it?’
Peg could, and she smiled. ‘Do your customers really buy that kind of thing?’
Sofia tossed the book back on the pile. ‘No,’ she said. ‘That’s exactly the point. They don’t, and I can’t believe I ever thought they would.’
‘So, what…? You’re getting rid of them?’ asked Peg.
‘Yep…’ Sofia grinned. ‘The customers I make curtains for aren’t ever going to be interested in what’s in those books, so I’m just going to keep the ones which are for normal people.’ She rolled her eyes as if she couldn’t believe how ridiculous a notion it had been doing otherwise.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t want you to redesign my house,’ said Peg, staring at the chaos around her.
