Putting his wine glass down he scrubbed a hand over his face. ‘I’m the only child who hasn’t settled down, hasn’t produced grandchildren. In their minds all I’ve done is racket around the world writing down a few words. I don’t think they’ve ever really understood what I did.’ He screwed up his face. ‘At the party I was getting the third-degree interrogation about my lifestyle.’
Callie picked up on the past tense. ‘Did? Have you retired? You’re far too young.’
‘I’m forty-five. Too early to retire as you say. I’ve changed what I do. Taken a swerve. Got fed up living out of a suitcase, changing assignments every three years.’
Callie wondered if he’d expand on why he’d changed job, mention being a foreign correspondent, talk about the impact of it but he simply picked up the bowl of crisps and ate a few before handing it to her. ‘So now you’ve settled in England?’ she asked.
‘Yup. Gone freelance. Might write a book. Maybe. Something else my family doesn’t understand. It’s not a good solid profession like accountancy or banking, you see.’ Idly twirling his wine glass by its stem he added, ‘I’m not an expensiveperson, I drive a battered old Fiat, don’t need much. I’m taking some time out to…’ he paused, ‘…regroup, I suppose.’
‘Doesn’t sound too awful.’ Callie thought it sounded like heaven. She longed for a chance to leap off the treadmill.
‘I don’t think it is but my family don’t see it like that. They worry about me. Want me to have some stability.’
‘And you’ve never felt the need?’
He shook his head, lips pursing. ‘Always liked the life. I’ve seen the world, including places many don’t have the privilege to get to, met some fascinating people, encountered some truly terrifying ones, worked with great teams.’
‘But now?’
‘Got older. Got tired.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Beginning to appreciate having my own bed, having more than a shelf of books around me.’ He drank some wine. ‘There might be a time I go back on the road again but at the moment it feels good to sit back. Chill as Jess would say. Of course, my parents can’t understand, now I’ve settled back in the UK, why I haven’t bought a house, found a wife, had a tribe of children.’
‘That’s not on the agenda then?’
He laughed. ‘Don’t you start. Remind me never to introduce you to my aunts.’
‘You’ve lots of sisters, haven’t you? I seem to remember you saying you had, what, four, five?’
‘Four sisters. And they all have children. From seventeen down to six months.’
‘Big family then. Were they all at the party?’
‘Oh yes. All of them.’
He said it so mournfully Callie giggled. ‘Oh dear. Are they that bad?’
‘Worse,’ Johnny replied. ‘My mother’s sisters, my aunts Sybil, Rebecca and Maria, hunt as a pack of three. They pinnedme down insisting on knowing why I hadn’t got a wife and thirty-two children and a mortgage on a five-bed in the suburbs.’
Callie burst out in a peal of laughter. ‘You don’t seem the sort of fit for a house in the suburbs. You seem very urban to me.’
‘Thank you!’ He clinked his glass with hers in a salute. ‘You can see that. Why can’t my family?’
‘They just want you to be happy.’
‘I am happy.’
Callie didn’t reply. Under the charming surface she sensed the opposite.
‘You’re wrong about one thing though. When I was with the BBC it made sense to live in London whenever I was in the UK and it’s true I’ve lived in some of the most major cities in the world: Cairo, Moscow, New York, Bangkok, but I’ve just moved to Stratford. Thought I’d try a small town for a change. And I have to confess it could be seen as suburban.’
‘Stratford’s nice.’ Callie didn’t add she thought it a strange choice for him. ‘Not quite Bangkok though.’
‘That it isn’t but I’m a Shakespeare buff.’
‘Oh.’
‘Surprised?’
‘I am actually.’
