‘I get that.’
‘She’s really young. Like I don’t even know if she’s thirty. It’s a ridiculous age gap. He’s such a fucking cliché. It’s embarrassing.’ He didn’t say that she was attractive. And sexy. And that that confused him even more. He didn’t want Hayley to think he was a pervert.
‘So I don’t go that often. And he doesn’t invite me, anyway. He says to think of it like it’s my home, but I don’t.’
‘That’s tough. I’m sorry.’ He looked at her for the first time. She smiled. ‘We’re cousins now, kind of, right?’
‘I guess.’
‘So we could hang out, you know, after this holiday. If you like.’
He smiled back. It was the first genuine, unguarded smile she had seen him give. ‘I would. Thanks.’
Hayley nodded, as though a deal had been brokered. She made a fist and gently punched his leg, then stood up. ‘Wanna hit balls on the tennis court? You can use Scott’s racquet.’
‘I have to warn you, I’m pretty rubbish.’
‘That’s fine. I’m a really good coach.’
Ethan laughed, which made Hayley glad, and stood up. ‘You’re on.’
51
Nick and Charlie sat with the sun on their backs, and their feet dangling in the pool. Nick was in shorts, but Charlie had had to roll up his chinos and take off his socks, and Nick had had to put his arm out to help his father sit on the edge. Nick’s legs were tanned and muscular, while Charlie’s had a bluish-white hue, and gnarled varicose veins. His father’s legs made him sad, marking his age and his increasing frailty more clearly than his animated, familiar face ever did. But it was what Charlie had wanted, to sit, dangle his feet and be near his grandchildren. Meredith was in the pool with Bea and Delilah. Arthur was napping inside, Heather listening for him. She said she was happy pottering in the kitchen. The small girls were deliriously happy in the company of their new cousin, splashing and giggling, climbing out of the pool to walk round (they preferred to run, but Nick kept admonishing them – ‘Slow down, slow down’), jump in, and repeat, over and over again.
‘God, what I wouldn’t give for a fraction of their energy!’
‘You and me both, Dad. They’re the proverbial Duracell bunnies.’
‘They’re amazing.’ Charlie shook his head in fond wonderment.
‘They’ll be spark out by seven thirty. Sleep for twelve hours.’
‘Lucky devils. All so simple, isn’t it, when you’re that age? Eat, sleep, play. Eat, sleep, play.’
‘I’m so glad we came. Thanks, Dad, for all of this. They’re clearly loving having all the family around.’
Charlie touched Nick’s arm. ‘I’m so glad.’
‘It’s a year tomorrow.’
One date Charlie hadn’t forgotten. He hadn’t needed Daphne to fix that one in his mind. He would remember the phone call, and Nick’s voice at the other end of the line, for as long as he lived. It was the worst call he had ever taken, in a long life with a fair share of horridness, and the very worst news he’d ever had. The very worst.
A lot of that was shock. You didn’t expect it. It came from so far out of left field, and it hit you so hard, news like that. His beloved son had lost his wife. His young, lovely, loving wife. His adored grandchildren had lost their mother. In an instant. On an ordinary day.
He’d stood alone in the hallway, staring at a photograph of Daphne, sinking onto the stairs, because he’d felt his legs start to give way beneath him, trying desperately to think of the right thing to say, realizing there was absolutely nothing, that letting Nick cry, and listen to him crying, was all he could do. The time for rallying would come, but for that moment, it was all. It had been 364 days ago, but it might have been yesterday.
‘They’re good, right?’ Nick’s voice broke. Charlie knew what he was asking.
‘They’re very good. They seem very good indeed. You’re doing wonderfully.’
Nick exhaled at the reassurance.
‘And how are you, my boy?’
Nick smiled at his father. ‘Ah. More of a work in progress.’
‘Understandable. A year is nothing. Nothing at all.’
‘Thank you for saying that. Sometimes people give me the impression that a year is long enough for me to have got myself together, sorted.’
‘People who haven’t lost what you’ve lost. Only those people could even think that, let alone say it.’
‘Exactly.’
‘I’ve been a work in progress since the day your mother died. I think I’ve progressed as far as I’m ever going to, to be honest. I miss her every day. Sometimes every hour of every day.’
Nick almost laughed. ‘A guy in the pub – a mate, or a sort of mate – a few weeks, maybe couple of months ago, he said I should get back on the horse. Back on the damn horse – get back out there. Can you believe it? He’d been drinking. He was all arm around the shoulders, home-truths time. He said I needed to “get back out there, find a new mother”, find myself a new wife. That I shouldn’t wallow.’
Charlie blew out his cheeks. ‘Wow.’
‘Wow indeed.’ Nick shook his head.
‘And did this sensitive soul have a suggestion as to how you might do that?’
‘Online. Tinder. Or Bumble. Or something …’
‘Oh, yes. Of course.’ Charlie was incredulous. ‘Why didn’t I think of that? I could have replaced your mother.’ He clicked his fingers, like an impatient customer summoning a waiter. ‘Do they have a site for silver surfers?’
Nick smirked. ‘I’m sure they do.’
‘Bumbling?’
Nick laughed. ‘I’ll write a profile today. “Charlie. Compos mentis. Own teeth, if you don’t count crowns. Still vaguely continent. Seeks …”’
‘Replacement wife.’
‘Replacement wife.’
Charlie nodded slowly, and the levity passed.
‘Can I ask you something, Dad?’
‘Anything, son.’
‘Do you suppose that if you’d lost Mum sooner, much sooner I mean, you’d have married again? Wanted to, even?’
Charlie thought about it. ‘I know what your mother would have said. If you lot had been small, I mean. She’d have said I should.’
‘Is that what you think?’
Again, Charlie was slow to answer, trying to get it right. ‘If you force yourself into something, it won’t be right. You have to give yourself time. I don’t think you can do it for the children. They’re okay. They have all the love you give them, all the love all of us, their other grandparents, the friends the two of you had, can give them, and that’s enough for now.’
Nick nodded vigorously as though his father had said exactly what he had wanted to hear.
‘But …’
Nick turned to him.
‘… but I don’t think you should close yourself off to the idea completely. You shouldn’t want to spend the rest of your life alone, Nick. She wouldn’t have wanted that for you because she loved you, and I don’t want that for you because I love you too.’