‘Tea would be lovely, thanks. Hope the alpaca’s okay.’
We agreed on six o’clock so I showered and changed. As I dried my hair in the mirror, I frowned at the state of it. It needed some major care and attention. I’d call into the hairdresser in Pippinthwaite this week and make sure I wasn’t a lost cause before I booked an appointment. Running a brush through it, butterflies stirred in my stomach. Christian had invited me to his house for a meal. He’d never done that before. Was that a date? Did I want it to be? I chewed on my lip, debating my feelings. I liked Christian and I did find him attractive, but could I see us together as a couple? I wasn’t so sure. As I replayed our brief conversation, I nearly laughed out loud at my train of thought. Of course it wasn’t a date! Emma couldn’t join him and he’d prepared too much food for one – simple as that.
* * *
‘That was delicious,’ I told Christian as I placed my knife and fork down on my empty plate. ‘You’re a good cook.’
‘Thank you. I never used to be but Oliver’s mum, Kathryn, was really into cooking and she inspired me. I don’t know about you, but I find it a bit tedious cooking for one so I enjoyed experimenting when Emma was living here.’
‘I enjoy cooking but I agree with you about meals for one. I tend to batch cook and eat more ready meals than I should. Cliff used to help me.’ I laughed lightly. ‘Or rather he tried to. He usually got in the way and created way more mess than should have been humanly possible, but I enjoyed the company.’
Christian gave me a sympathetic smile. ‘I was thinking about you over New Year.’
Butterflies stirred in my stomach. ‘You were?’
‘Yes. I’m thinking it would have been five years since Cliff died.’
‘That’s right.’ I was so touched that he’d remembered that.
‘It’s been over thirty years since Kathryn died.’ Christian paused and frowned. ‘Crikey! It’ll be thirty-six years this October. I’ve no idea where that time has gone.’
‘You and Kathryn – you weren’t married, were you?’
‘No. It’s a long and complicated story.’
‘I’m happy to hear it over a cuppa. Only if you want to share.’
Christian smiled and nodded. ‘You’re on.’
He made some drinks and we settled in the lounge as he told me about meeting Kathryn as a teenager, that she’d been the love of his life and how a stupid argument had torn them apart. He’d got together with Emma’s mum, Liv, marrying her when she was pregnant and had tried his hardest to make the marriage work but Liv knew he loved her as a friend rather than romantically and they split up after eight years. He’d never expected to have a second chance with Kathryn as she was married but he kept seeing her around and it transpired that her husband, Hubert, was emotionally and physically abusive. He’d also had a string of affairs and didn’t even try to be discreet about them.
‘Hubert gave Kathryn every reason to leave him,’ Christian said, ‘but she could have lost Willowdale Hall. Her ancestors built it and she loved it so much. She couldn’t bear the thought of that man owning it.’
Although he didn’t go into much detail about his relationship with Kathryn, I could hear in his voice how uncomfortable he felt about having an affair, despite him not cheating on anyone himself and despite Kathryn’s husband being a serial adulterer. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone cheating on their partner – such a hurtful and disrespectful thing to do – but I knew from personal experience that it wasn’t always that black and white. It sounded as though Kathryn’s marriage had had its own complexities, albeit in a different way to my own. My thoughts strayed to Will – something they’d done with even greater frequency than usual since opening up to Paulette on Saturday – and the debate I’d frequently had with myself as to whether I’d really cheated on Cliff. Even though I liked Christian and I was enjoying this deeper conversation with him, I didn’t feel any desire to open up to him about my own situation.
‘When Oliver was born,’ he continued, ‘it was so hard knowing that he was my son and I couldn’t be his dad.’
‘You always knew Oliver was yours? I assumed that was a recent discovery.’
Christian shook his head. ‘Only for Oliver. He found out roughly eighteen months ago, and I told Emma shortly after. I probably shouldn’t talk about that part as it’s more about them than me.’
‘I understand. But you’re close to them both now?’
‘Really close. You know, I spent decades feeling like such a failure because I wasn’t a proper dad to either of my kids and I’m so grateful that I’ve had the chance to start over with both of them.’
We both took a sip of our tea and then he hit me with the question that I always dreaded being asked. ‘You and Cliff never had kids?’
I shook my head and reeled off the standard reply. ‘Neither of us particularly wanted them.’ Will had wanted more kids. Would that have happened? It was pointless torturing myself with another what if or maybe. I’d chosen my path and it had been a child-free one and I’d had to come to terms with that. If it hadn’t been for Cliff’s accident, it might have been different but… Feeling myself welling up, I gazed around the room seeking out a distraction and my eyes landed on a wooden bowl on the coffee table.
‘That’s beautiful,’ I said. ‘Lovely quality wood. Is it oak?’
‘It is – oak from your husband’s supply.’
I whipped my head up. ‘You made it?’
Christian smiled. ‘I did. Give me a second.’
He left the lounge, returning moments later with a similar bowl. ‘This is for you. I’ve kept meaning to bring it across.’
