John raised his eyebrows.
‘I don’t know,’ said Imogen doubtfully.
‘Been there, done that, got the T-shirt,’ said Henry.
‘We could ask Faye,’ Cynthia said eagerly.
‘Well …’
‘I don’t think so,’ said John, feeling for once that he should intervene.
‘What harm can it do?’ said Cynthia.
‘Maybe Dad’s right,’ said Imogen, her lips quivering. ‘I don’t want to raise bad spirits or anything.’
‘Quite right,’ agreed John. ‘Best not to meddle with things you don’t understand.’
‘I’ll speak to Faye,’ said Cynthia. ‘She understands.’
Imogen’s hands shook as she pulled on her gloves.
‘I’m meeting a friend for lunch,’ she said.
‘We’ll give you a lift,’ said John, clearly relieved to be leaving. He doesn’t fancy staying here, thought Henry. Not if I’m mooching around.
Cynthia looked behind her. She seemed to sense Henry’s presence. If only she could hear him.
‘I’ll talk to Faye as soon as I get home,’ she assured Imogen.
Henry wondered who Faye was and then figured he would find out soon enough.
Chapter Thirty
Henry sat on a bench that was dedicated to Maurice Shirl ‘because he loved this view so much’ and watched the ducks swimming among the reeds. He could understand why Maurice had liked it so much and couldn’t help wondering how Maurice had died. Funny, thought Henry. Dying is a bit like buying a new car. Suddenly everywhere you look there’s the same car as your new one and yet you could have sworn never to have seen many before. It’s like being dead. You become more aware of all the others that have gone before you. People who’d had busy lives, jobs in offices, sheds nurturing seeds ready to be planted and a house overflowing with family on a Sunday. Then, suddenly gone, just like Henry, with no warning and no time to prepare. Sheds left, seeds uncared for, family in tatters and an empty office desk. It shouldn’t be allowed, thought Henry. This dying business is a tragedy all round. No one wins.
Tied up boats swayed in the breeze and Henry sniffed at the air, the peaty smell of algae reaching his nostrils. He looked at the boats and found himself transported back to several years earlier, when he and Imogen had gone boating with Jack and his girlfriend. He closed his eyes and remembered a time when his wife hadn’t been a liar and an adulterer.
It had been a hot day. Henry recalled worrying about the sun burning his scalp. He’d just begun to lose his hair and had been aware of a tiny bald patch. He was always meaning to get a hat. One of those weaved ambassador hats that Jack wore. They’d look like the characters fromBrideshead Revisited. He remembered spending most of that day trying to protect his scalp. He hadn’t wanted a sunburnt bald patch by the time the day was over. That would be cancer-inducing for sure. Jack had walked ahead with Jenny, one arm around her shoulders and the other swinging a picnic basket. Henry carried the blanket, and Imogen their tennis racquets. He’d felt happy, he remembered that.
*
‘Ooh,’ squealed Jenny, ‘can we take a boat out?’
‘Sure,’ laughed Jack, his arm lazily drifting from Jenny’s shoulder to her breast. Henry had looked away, embarrassed.
Henry felt he ought to show some affection to Imogen too. Public affection wasn’t something Henry really approved of. Other people didn’t want to see you kissing and cuddling. It was embarrassing. He held his hand out to Imogen and she slipped hers easily into it.
‘Do you think we’ll get a court?’ Jack said, hopefully.
They found a quiet spot and Henry spread out the blanket. He decided to sit under a tree so his scalp wouldn’t get burnt. Jenny opened the picnic basket and gleefully removed a bottle of rosé wine. Henry studied the label critically.
‘It’s not a fancy bottle like you would get,’ said Jack with a chuckle. ‘But it will do the trick.’
‘We’ve got beers, too,’ said Jenny.
‘Not too much booze before a match,’ laughed Jack. ‘We won’t be able to see the ball.’
It was the perfect day for a picnic. There was just a faint breeze. The air buzzed with the drone of bees and Imogen lifted her face to the sun and sighed. Jenny and Jack laid out sandwiches, cheese, bread, cold meats, chocolate, and cake.
