“About what?”
“Job. I have to do some work with the primary care team next year.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to Dad when I’m finished here.”
Only if Martin deigned to make an appearance.
Jamie slapped Declan on the shoulder. “We’ve earned ourselves a drink. What’s for lunch, Mum?”
“There’s soup on the stove, a fresh loaf and stack of sandwiches in the fridge, courtesy of your grandmother, who has been buttering bread all morning. Help yourselves.” She refrained from pointing out it wasn’t that long since breakfast. It was always the same at Christmas and if she was honest, she enjoyed it. Not only because it felt delightfully normal and like the old days when she could never keep her fridge full, but also because it made her feel needed.
She went back indoors and hunted for her father. She found him in Martin’s study, listening to music through headphones. There was no sign of Martin.
He pulled off the headphones when he saw her. “Palestrina motets. Always puts me in a festive mood. Remember that concert we went to in Durham Cathedral?”
She felt a rush of love for him. “I do. It was wonderful, although I seem to remember having freezing hands. Have you seen Martin? I thought you might be working on the book.”
“No, but don’t tell your mother that or I’ll never hear the last of it.” He shook his head. “Martin said he had to do somejobs this morning, but suggested we take an afternoon walk and discuss some ideas then.”
“Right.”
“Are you still worrying about him?” He reached out and gave her arm an awkward pat, and she felt a ridiculous urge to put her head on his shoulder and let him solve her problems as she had when she was little. She was sixty and today she wanted to be a child again, letting older and wiser heads fix the things that needed fixing.
“I’m too busy with Christmas and tonight’s party to worry about Martin,” she lied. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
Her father gave her a keen look. “It’s a life change. Give him time. He’ll adjust.”
“Of course he will. Absolutely.”But how much time?She had things of her own to adjust to. Like the fact that her son had married without telling them, and there was a new family member standing in her kitchen who was clearly struggling. It was Jenny’s responsibility to make her feel welcome and comfortable within the family. Also, there was the niggling feeling that something wasn’t right with Rosie. She needed Martin’s support, not his absence. “I love you, Dad.” It suddenly seemed important to her that she say the words.
She saw her father’s gaze soften.
“I love you too. And I’m going to talk to Martin, so don’t you worry.”
“That would be good. But do it discreetly. I’m trying to hide it from the kids. I don’t want them to worry. I’ll let you get back to your Palestrina.” She kissed him on the cheek, eased the headphones back onto his ears and headed upstairs.
It was all very well her father promising that he’d talk to Martin, but first someone had to find him. And then he had to be prepared to listen.
Frustration shifted to concern.
She checked their bedroom, but it was empty. She glanced through the window to the beach but saw no one.
Her anxiety deepened. He wouldn’t have left the house without telling her, would he? Where could he possibly be?
She pulled out her phone. She felt faintly ridiculous calling him when they were all at home together, but it was worth a try. A moment later heard the sound of his phone ringing. She followed the sound to Becky’s room, pushed open the door and there was Martin. He was fully clothed and lying on top of the bed with his eyes closed.
“Martin?”
He opened his eyes. “Why are you phoning me when I’m in the house? Is this a new thing?”
“No, it’s what I do when I can’t find you. What are you doing in here?”
“It seemed like somewhere no one would look.” He sat up and ran his hand over his face. “Seems I was wrong. What’s up?”
What’s up? Seriously?
“It’s Christmas, and everyone is downstairs working hard. Why are you hiding?”
“I’m not hiding. I was listening to a podcast.” He pressed something on his phone to pause it. “I’m taking some personal time. That’s allowed at Christmas when you have a house full. Everyone needs space occasionally.”
She didn’t point out that their house had been full for less than twenty-four hours and Christmas hadn’t even started yet so he couldn’t possibly be in need of quiet time.
