He shook his head. ‘Not yet.’
‘But you will, won’t you?’ His mother tied the knot, squeezing his finger free from underneath with a gentle pull on the ribbon. He sat back on his heels to watch her craft a bow. ‘It is only five miles away,’ she said, securing it with another knot. ‘It won’t take you long now you have a car.’
‘Which father did not have to buy me.’
‘He hoped it would tempt you to come home sooner.’
‘Which it did not.’
His mother admired her handiwork. ‘So what did tempt you to finally come home?’ She looked up at him with a raised enquiring eyebrow. ‘It wasn’t your inheritance or you would have returned home before now. Although, Carrack House and Estate will not manage itself. You will have to make a decision about it soon.’
‘I know. I will pay father back for the car. It was an expensive purchase.’
‘And one we can both afford. He does not want your money. He just wants you to be happy.’ She slid the parcel aside and set about wrapping a pair of cufflinks. ‘So why did you come back now?’
‘I was on leave.’
‘You have had leave before, while your grandfather was ill, and did not return then.’
‘He would have wished to see me and I did not want to see him.’
‘So you stayed away.’
Nicholas remained silent. Hearing it out loud made him feel unsympathetic, which was far from the truth.
‘So why now, when you are not ready to make a decision about Carrack House and the land which goes with it?’ In truth he wasn’t sure. Yes, he had promised Sam to give Rose the Christmas she had always wanted, but he hadn’t needed to take extended leave to do it. He could have just visited, dropped off a few presents and a Christmas cake and been on his merry way. He had no obligation to spend too much time over the promise. He thought of Rose, her pencil and notebook poised, with a soft blush forming on her cheeks.
‘What are you smiling at?’ asked his mother.
He gave himself a mental shake. ‘Was I? I wasn’t aware.’ He began to fold a spare sheet of wrapping paper, matching each corner meticulously before running his finger along the crease. He glanced up to find his mother still watching him. He might as well tell her the truth. ‘I promised Sam I would visit his fiancée at Christmas time.’
‘Why?’
‘He wanted her to have a happy Christmas and thought I could provide it in his place. I know, it sounds silly.’
‘No it doesn’t.’
Nicholas felt encouraged to explain further. ‘He felt guilty that they had never spent a Christmas together. Her parents didn’t encourage visitors so they spent their first Christmas apart. By the time it was their second Christmas, Sam had already been called up and was posted away. The following Christmas . . . he was . . . already dead.’
His mother touched his knee to comfort him. ‘Oh Nicholas, I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ He moved his knee away. He didn’t deserve her sympathy. ‘Feel sorry for Rose. She was the one who had to hear the news.’
‘And I suppose this is the first Christmas you have been able to visit her.’
‘Yes. I didn’t get demobbed until earlier this year.’ He moved across the carpet and relaxed against the seat of a chair. He rested his forearms on his bent legs and gazed into the blazing fire. ‘I always wondered how she coped and what had happened to her. I was the one who reported Sam was killed and I knew, as I was doing it, that she would be devastated when she received the news. I have felt guilty ever since.’
‘It must have been awful to see your friend die.’
Nicholas frowned as he remembered the events of the day.
‘We do understand, Nicholas. You can talk to us,’ said his mother.
He shook his head. ‘No one can begin to understand unless they were there. I would rather not talk about Sam.’ He rubbed his forehead to wipe away the memory.
‘The war has broken a lot of hearts, Nicholas.’
He delved into his pocket and brought out Rose’s picture and poem. ‘This is Sam’s girl,’ he said, passing it to his mother. ‘And this is the poem she wrote about Christmas.’
