“Why?” Immediately she regretted the question. Something told her this was sensitive territory. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer.”
Gabriel finished a bacon sandwich, washing it down with more tea, then lifted his eyes to Pierre. “We lost our parents when we were very young. Eve was just finishing secondary school and she looked after me, raised me, really and did her best to provide for me.”
He reached for a couple of small mushroom pies and offered one to Pierre. She thanked him with a smile.
“It was just the two of us,” he continued. “Eve worked while she studied, and even after she was married, she sent me the extra money to help with my living expenses at uni.” He took a moment to chew and swallow.
Pierre didn’t want to press him, so she focussed on her mushroom slice and let him speak if and when he felt comfortable. If he didn’t say anything by the time she finished her sandwich, she would change the subject and let him off the hook. But before she could, Gabriel continued as if trying to get that part of the story out of the way.
“Then when she was pregnant with Luke, her husband was diagnosed with a brain tumour. It all went very fast, and he passed away even before she gave birth.” He paused to take a sip of tea. He unfolded a paper napkin then refolded it into a different shape. “So,” he went on, “Eve was left with a mortgage, three small children and very little income. He’d been a driver for a special needs school in Lincoln. A great job but no pension or… you know… insurance. So…” Gabriel rested his hand on the end of table. The half-eaten mushroom pie still between his fingers.
“So, you dropped out of university to look after them,” Pierre said the words for him.
He shrugged. “I was lucky the school allowed me to take his job. I used what was left of my student loan to retrain and get the necessary registration and licences. I moved back to Lincoln to live with Eve and the boys. They’re like my own little brothers really.” The smile warmed his face and his eyes lit up. “They are adorable.”
But behind his smiles, Pierre could see that faint expression, a soft regret, a lost dream. “But you must’ve developed your skills as a photographer.”
“It’s a hobby. When I finally paid back my student loan, I started saving slowly for…” He indicated the camera bag.
“It’s good to have a hobby to keep your artistic dreams alive.” Even to her own ears, it sounded like a cliché, a weak silver lining.
His eyes met hers. “No regrets,” he said. “Eve and the boys mean the world to me. Watching them grow up has been a real joy and a privilege.”
A traitorous thought slipped into her mind. How different this young man was from Martin who, at Thirty-five, had never sacrificed any part of his career for anyone. Her boyfriend who couldn’t even commit to a relationship with her.
It was she who was committed, always available, waiting for him to set the agenda. She answered his calls as soon as he rang, responded to his text messages as soon as they landed.
Perhaps a little distance would force him to re-evaluate their relationship and decide what he wanted. Did he want a relationship or just a freelance girlfriend with extra benefits? So, she’d been here since yesterday; today was Sunday. He had until tomorrow night. When she got back to Luton, she would know if he could offer her a fabulous relationship.
“What about you?” Gabriel asked when the silence stretched.
“Me?” She almost stumbled over her answer. Had he been reading her mind? She searched for something safe to say. “I live in Luton.”
“Near the airport?”
“Everywhere in Luton is near the airport.”
He poured her another cup of tea before pouring one for himself. “That must be noisy. How do you even sleep?”
“I concentrate on the cheap rent.”
He chuckled softly as he put down the teapot and selected another sausage roll. “And when you’re not sleeping?”
“I’m a receptionist at an airport hotel and have zero job satisfaction.”
“That can’t be true.” His brows knitted. “Wouldn’t a social anthropologist see a lot of diverse human behaviour at an airport hotel?” He was returning the favour, trying to find the silver lining in her life as she had done earlier for him.
She shook her head. “I wish. Mostly it’s people irate at missing their flights and having to spend £120 on a night in the middle of nowhere. Believe me, after your twentieth disappointed traveller, it’s pretty much the same. I try my best to make them feel better by pointing out the blessings of free coffee and tea sachets in their room, the attractions of a chocolate and biscuits vending machine, and the added bonanza of a courtesy bus back to the airport.”
He chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t believe you. Someone with your lively mind wouldn’t settle for that.”
His praise warmed her a little. “I don’t know about lively mind; I’m still waiting to find my dream.”
“But in the meantime, you must have an outlet, just like I do with the photography. So go on, ’fess up. What else do you do?”
He was right. “I have a freelance job writing romantic lines into greeting cards.”
Gabriel’s eyes widened. “No way.”
