Mats found himself volunteering again. ‘If you show me the spreadsheets, I can do those.’ When she looked taken aback and her mouth opened as if to refuse, he added, ‘I’m a finance officer. I can take a few hours of work off your desk.’
‘Good boy,’ said Erik, as if Mats was five years old.
Grete awarded him her twinkliest smile.
In the face of their approbation, Ezz capitulated. ‘That would be a great help. Thank you.’
Ten minutes later, he was in her office while she whizzed through the relevant spreadsheets, showing him where to pick up the data, and what to cross-reference. There was not even the slightest acknowledgement that he wasanything more to her than her bosses’ son. He made notes on her pad. ‘What else can I do?’
She hesitated, then seemed to give a mental shrug, as if she might as well make use of him. ‘The employment records need checking. We do it once to December 31st for the year end and again in April for the tax year. The staff records are in a password-protected area.’ She took the pad from him and wrote the access details he’d need. ‘If you take the assistant manager’s office, the computer there has the accounting software.’ She added the computer password to his notes.
He let his body angle towards hers, enjoying the citrus scent of her skin, wondering whether it was soap or body lotion. Despite her so obviously being in work mode, he dropped his voice, so she had to lean in to hear him. ‘Did I cause real trouble between you and Valentina?’ His arms itched to close around her and hold her as he had on Saturday, feeling her beautiful body melt into him like butter on hot toast.
She put up a hand, as if she anticipated the embrace he was itching to bestow … and didn’t want it. ‘I’m afraid Valentina’s hurt and upset. We’re very close, you see …’ The words caught in her throat.
His heart gave a great, wretched heave. ‘I’m so sorry.’ When she didn’t answer he rose, deflated. ‘I’ll make a start while Josefin has the children out at the playground.’ He returned his chair to its spot on the other side of the desk, and then sought out the tiny assistant manager’s office, furious with himself that impetuosity had once again got him in trouble and no matter how profuse his apologies, Ezz was the one suffering for him speaking before he thought.
His first night with Ezz might have been his last.
* * *
Mats’ family gathered in the kitchen for lunch, everyone grabbing things from cupboards or the fridge and adding them to the table to share, like a chaoticsmörgåsbord. Astrid and Alvin had been racing around outside, and Alvin was almost asleep in his bread and cheese, a sausage clutched in one small hand. Although he considered himself too old for daytime naps, he did occasionally grab one.
Astrid licked her fingers, having just consumed a tomato from her hand as if it were an apple. ‘Daddy, can we talk to Mummy?’
He nodded. ‘Let me text her to set up a time.’ Video calls with Inger were fine with him, but he first intended to make it clear that, in the children’s hearing, it would not be appropriate to repeat her request that he whisk them to North Tunisia for Christmas. They’d start running around whooping about visiting Mummy on a yacht with zero understanding of what that would entail and no care for existing plans for a Skye Christmas. He slipped Alvin onto his lap to snooze. The little boy smelled of sausage and the outdoors. Mats dropped a kiss on the baby-soft hair as he texted Inger:The kids would like to FaceTime you. When is convenient?He added his request for circumspection regarding impossible Christmas plans.
Erik switched to his native Swedish. ‘It’s good Alvin gets some sleep before his cousins arrive. Especially Walter. I’ve never known a seven-year-old who can keep going from dawn till dusk like he can.’
Grete laughed, giving Erik a little push with her fingertips. ‘He’s as mischievous as his grandfather.’ It was good to see them interacting with some of their old closeness.
Josefin took Astrid up to the playroom so she wouldn’t disturb Alvin’s nap, and Grete went to talk to Gwen,probably armed with yet another shopping list as she thought of treats that might be desired by members of the family arriving on Sunday.
Mats crossed an ankle over the other knee to support the arm cradling Alvin. Erik made coffee and then returned to the table. ‘We should talk about work.’ He smiled at Alvin, pink-cheeked in sleep.
Mats stifled a sigh. He’d been enjoying not even thinking about work – apart from the small tasks he’d taken on to please Ezz. ‘I need to be more available to my children,’ he said bluntly. ‘If I have to keep working such long hours, then you’d better replace me.’ It felt less aggressive than saying:I’ll leave.
But Erik only nodded. ‘You must get your priorities right.’
Mats felt as if the whole of Rothach Hall held its breath in shock. He stared at his father, who was still gazing down at Alvin. He’d expected an explosion, or at least a warning rumble. Agreement threw him. Cautiously, he tried to be clearer, in case Erik hadn’t properly understood. ‘I want to be home to put my children to bed regularly, and even early enough to build a snowman or watch a swimming lesson.’
‘Your little ones are important.’ Erik sipped his coffee, and the rich aroma wafted to Mats. Then, with an air of self-consciousness, Erik added, ‘I am to cut my hours too.’
Mats’ heart flipped right over at this welcome news. ‘Seriously? To be with Mum?’
‘Well, I don’t like being without her.’ Erik sipped more coffee and then smacked his lips. ‘She said I made work everything. If that were true, I wouldn’t have missed her so much. And I missed hersomuch.’
Mats reached out and clasped Erik’s shoulder, still firmand strong even at Erik’s age of seventy-one. His father was one of the most vital men Mats knew, yet apparently a lesser person without his soulmate beside him. ‘That’s great, Dad. Mum’s been low without you.’
Erik looked gratified. ‘That’s something.’
Then Mats’ phone beeped, and Alvin woke up, twisted in Mats’ arms and blinked at his father and grandfather. ‘Text,’ he announced accurately, slipping instantly from sleep to waking, despite rumpled hair and heavy eyes.
‘Clever boy.’ Mats read the text. ‘Mummy’s ready to FaceTime. Shall we find Astrid?’
‘Yeah!’ Alvin wriggled from Mats’ lap. They left Erik to join Grete in the lounge before the cosy fire and the shimmering Christmas tree, while they climbed the stairs together. Soon, they’d collected Astrid from the playroom and were snuggled together on Astrid’s bed, Mats’ iPad propped up by a cushion on his legs.
When Inger appeared on the screen, the sky was blue behind her head and her bare shoulders looked tanned above a yellow top. She cooed, ‘Oh, darlings, how lovely to see you.’ The children instantly fell back into Swedish, and Mats listened to them outdo each other with stories of the woods, ponies, sausages and all the joys that floated to the tops of their young minds.
