It was obvious from the outset that his father was the one in charge of the household and that, most importantly, he didn’t approve of the way Adam was living his life.
‘I understand you’re at school with Adam?’ his father had said as we ‘took tea’ in the drawing room.
‘Yes.’ My voice was small. I hated myself for feeling inferior in front of these people, but there was something about Adam’s father that just made you feel that way. I suspected I wasn’t the only one who’d been cowed before him.
He’d given a curt nod at my response. ‘Well, I don’t imagine he’ll come out of that place with any qualifications worth having but at least it’s better than nothing.’ He’d spat the words ‘that place’, as though they were poison and, despite an overwhelming compulsion to defend my school and myself, I bit my tongue. What would it achieve, to retort, apart from hurting Adam?
Later, his father had made sure he told me all about the trouble Adam had got into at the public school he was thrown out of, and how he didn’t approve of the choices his only son had made in life. It was also made perfectly clear that included me.
I couldn’t wait to get out of there and, as we’d driven back up the drive afterwards in my mum’s car, I’d wanted to scream. Adam had been silent beside me, as though all his spark had been extinguished by this man who called himself his father.
‘I’m sorry I put you through that,’ he said, his voice subdued.
‘I’m sorry you have a father like that.’ My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.
‘It’s not just him though, is it? My mother’s just as bad. She might not say much but the contempt for me is there in her eyes. Anyway, if she cared, she’d stick up for me, but she’d never do that.’
I turned to look at him but he stared out of the side window away from me. We approached the black gates and while we waited for them to open I reached out for his hands.
‘Don’t ever let them make you think you’re not good enough,’ I said, struggling to keep the anger out of my voice. ‘You’re the best person I know. They’re the ones who should be sorry, not you.’
‘But they’re right though, aren’t they? I have wasted my life.’
‘No!’ Fury raged in my chest. ‘You’re funny and kind and forgiving. You don’t belong in an awful stuck-up school like that anyway. Your parents are just…’ I’d struggled to find a word to express how angry I was. ‘They’re horrible, Adam. I’m sorry, but they are.’
The gates had swung open in front of us and I inched forward onto the road and drove back into town. I’d never been so grateful to be heading back to my own house. My father might not be the warmest, most demonstrative person, but I knew he loved me and he would never treat me the way Adam’s parents treated him. No wonder Adam rebelled against them. Nothing he did would ever please them anyway.
A tapping at my window made me jump and I looked round to see Adam’s face peering in at me. My stomach flipped and I wound the window down.
‘Are you coming in then?’
I’d reached the house and must have been sitting here for a while, lost in thought. ‘Yes, sorry,’ I said, grabbing my bag and climbing out of the car. I stood in front of Adam for a moment, trying to still the thumping in my chest. I wasn’t sure whether it was his presence or the fact that I was about to see his parents again, but I swallowed down my nerves and tried to remind myself that I was a grown woman now, not a shy seventeen-year-old girl. I could more than stand my own ground with these people.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Adam said. ‘I didn’t expect you to come on Christmas Eve.’
‘It’s fine,’ I replied. ‘We weren’t doing anything special today.’
Adam couldn’t remember what his parents had been like before – how they’d treated him or me – so I said nothing. But as I followed him towards the house a feeling of dread settled in me, mixed with the guilt I already felt at being here in the first place.
I’ve been thinking about what you said. I wondered if we could talk about it after Christmas? Adam x
Adam had sent me this text at ten o’clock that morning. I’d been nursing a hangover from the night before and Greg had been making us bacon sandwiches to ease the nausea we were both feeling. For the first time in weeks I’d felt as though Greg and I had got back some of our closeness again: we weren’t treading on eggshells around each other as though one false move could crush everything. I’d felt a sense of peace that had been missing from our marriage for a while.
Then Adam’s text had arrived, and I’d known instantly I was going to see him today.
Are you free today?
I’d replied while Greg had his back turned.
If you’re sure, that would be perfect. Can you come to my house about lunchtime?
Although my heart had sunk a little at the thought of going back to his parents’ house all these years later, and I knew I should be spending the day with my husband, I also knew I wasn’t going to say no.
‘I’ve got to pop out later,’ I’d said as Greg slid my bacon sandwich in front of me. I took a huge bite and wiped ketchup from my chin.
‘I thought we were spending the day together?’ A small frown creased his forehead.
‘I know, sorry, but I’ve realised I’ve still got a few last-minute bits and pieces to get for tomorrow.’
