Peg shook her head. ‘Only another hour or so. Straight down the M5 and then turn off towards Stow-on-the-Wold.’
‘Yeah, me too. Although I turn off a bit sooner, towards Evesham. Where are you headed?’
‘Lower Steeping. Do you know it?’
Henry stared at her in surprise. ‘I used to go to school there. So your little church where you sing carols now is where I used to sing them in my youth. My family left the village before I started secondary school and moved up north to Stoke. It’s where I still live now. But my son lives in Bishop’s Coombe.’
Now it was Peg’s turn to look astonished. ‘That’s only about fifteen minutes away from me. What are the chances?’
‘I’d say about the same as bumping into someone at a petrol station and then meeting them again seventy miles further on down the road.’
Peg shook her head. ‘I don’t believe it. But then again, it is Christmas…If this were a film, one of us would be saying something about a Christmas miracle.’
Henry laughed. ‘Christmas coincidence doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, does it?’ He was about to add that he wasn’t a ruggedly handsome hero either, when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He peered through the windscreen. ‘Hang on…isn’t that…?’
Peg leaned forward too. ‘What did you see?’
‘A light, I think. Way off, but…’
‘It is! It’s a brake light. Does that mean…?’ She smiled into his face. ‘I think we might be moving.’ But then her mouth opened into a round ‘O’ of surprise. ‘I’d better get back to my car or I’ll be in trouble.’
He began to help her, putting the lid back on the tin of mince pies, and gathering up a fallen glove while still keeping a watch on the traffic in front. The cars directly ahead were all starting their engines now, and Peg gave him a panicked look, then laughed.
‘Shit, I’m all of a dither now…Listen, have a safe journey and a good Christmas and…’ She rolled up the top of the bag of crisps and shoved them under her arm, then handed them back to Henry. ‘You have them…I’ll only drop them.’ She clambered from the car, pulling her car keys from her pocket. ‘It’s been lovely meeting you!’
‘Yes, you too, Peg. And thank you, for the food, the chat, for everything…’ He was gabbling. There was so much he wanted to say. ‘And have a lovely Christmas!’
Her face was split by a wide smile as she ducked back down to look at him again. ‘Yes, you too. Oh, I hope so and…just…look, if it all gets too much?—’
‘Yes?’
Peg was backing away. ‘My house is the one at the far end of the green and?—’
Henry leaned sideways, craning his neck to see her as she began to run back along the line of cars.
‘Just c—’ Her voice was snatched away by the sound of engines roaring into life.
‘What?’ he shouted. ‘Justwhat?’
But Peg was gone.
4
Henry glanced at his watch again. He was five minutes away from Adam’s house and just in time for dinner. Maybe things would be okay. Maybe they would…He was about to tell himself that things would be different this year, but they wouldn’t be. The more pressing problem was that somethinghadchanged, though. Somewhere along the M5, and he couldn’t say exactly where, something had changed, withinhim. And he needed to think. He needed some space to work out what it was, and what he was feeling, because the minute his son opened the door, any time and space he had available to him would disappear, swept up in a flurry of greetings and arrangements and…
He’d spent the last leg of his journey going back over his conversation with Peg. Thinking about all the things she’d said, and all the things he’d said. Realising that, as he drove, he was smiling. That he could still see her face, and hear her voice. That her black hair, shot through with silver, was in plaits, for goodness’ sake, and he’d meant to say how much they suited her. How her mince pies were the best he’d ever eaten…But most of all he’d thought about what she’d said as she was leaving. What he couldn’t be sure about, but what he hoped might have beensome sort of an invitation. She’d told him where her house was, but what was the rest of it?Just c—was all he’d heard. Was she telling him to come over? And if it wasn’t that, what else could it have been?
He swiped a hand over his face and slowed the car, wondering whether he should pull over for a moment, but the clock was ticking. And the one thing he absolutely could not be, was late. And so Henry drove the last couple of miles trying to thrust thoughts of Peg from his head and turn them instead to the days ahead of him. To all the things he should say, and do, to ensure that everything would go according to plan. To ensure that his son wouldn’t think any less of him, and that another invitation to visit might be forthcoming. Christmas might be something of a trial, but the alternative – not seeing his son at all – would be infinitely worse.
The front door opened before Henry had even finished getting out of the car, and any hopes he had that Adam had rushed out to greet his father out of pure affection were dashed the moment Henry received his perfunctory hug.
‘Great, you made good time in the end then?’ Adam didn’t wait for a reply. ‘Let me grab your bag. Is it in the boot? Dinner’s just about to be served.’
Henry nodded, unmoving, and feeling a little dazed. Even without the milieu of thoughts about Peg swirling around his head, he was still tired from his journey – a journey which had gone from two and a half hours to just over five, and all of them cooped up in the car. He couldn’t work out if his legs felt leaden or like jelly. He fetched his coat from the back seat, locked the car and slowly followed Adam up the path.
‘Let me take your jacket, Dad,’ said Adam once they were inside. ‘You know where we are, just through here.’ He pointed towards the vast kitchen which led into the dining room.
Henry licked his lips. The heat was stifling. ‘I could do with a quick pit stop, if that’s okay? Long drive…I’m desperate for the loo.’
