‘This is where we started,’ I said, crouching down and shining my phone’s torch into the space. ‘At least he has a nice sense of how to bookend a story. I think I can get in – can you hold my phone?’
Once again, I got down on all fours and crawled into the bush behind Steve, who greeted me with the relief and ecstasy of someone who has been trapped for months, rather than seconds.
‘Come on, you,’ I said and, grabbing his collar, I guided him in the right direction. Soon we were all back on terra firma, as it were, and Nick was clipping Steve’s lead firmly back on.
‘At least we’re getting in practice for kids,’ said Nick, as we started walking again. ‘Surely a toddler can’t be this much trouble?’
I didn’t reply, but the feeling of blissful warmth that suffused me was more than enough to chase away the coldest of evenings.
When we arrived back at Lyonscroft, we found a group of people at the foot of the driveway by the wall. I stopped the car and Nick wound down his window.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘That’s my house up there, can I help you?’
A young woman smiled at him and said, ‘Yes, we were wondering whether it would be okay to go up?’ She shook a collecting tin. ‘We’re singing carols for charity.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Nick. ‘Do come on up. I know my grandmother would love to hear you.’
As we parked, I couldn’t help grinning.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked Nick.
‘Just thinking back to a few short weeks ago when I fear those poor carol singers would have been given short shrift,’ I said.
‘And all the years that my father would have done the same,’ said Nick grimly. ‘Looks like I was more like him than I realised.’
‘But you shut Christmas out for very different reasons from your father,’ I said. ‘Didn’t you? I mean, you were trying to grit your teeth and get through things. Whydidhe hate it so much?’
Nick shrugged.
‘I’ve thought about it over the years. When I was a child, I was too scared of him to question anything, even to myself, and when I asked Astrid, she said that we’re all different andwouldn’t be drawn any further. I haven’t thought about it for years, to be honest, but this year…’
He broke off, staring out of the windscreen and biting his lip. I reached across and laid my hand over his.
‘This year?’
‘This year, when I went away for a few days, I decided to try and think about it all. It’s hard… it’s hard for me to feel any forgiveness or understanding for my father, as if by doing that I’m somehow condoning the way he behaved. But I think – maybe you will understand this better than I can – I think that his grief over losing my mother must have been so agonising that he shut down. Shut down all his feelings of misery but also of joy, as if feeling anything at all was too painful. And he made sure that everyone else did the same.’
I glanced over to the front door, which was now open, and heard the strains of ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ from the carol singers.
‘I do understand that,’ I said. ‘I did the same thing myself. It seemed easier.’
‘But you coped by caring for others,’ said Nick. ‘My father coped by becoming cruel. He treated me with disdain and sent me away, making it clear that my only usefulness was as his heir. He blew hot and cold with Victoria, showering her with presents one moment and telling her she was a nuisance the next. No wonder she can’t bond with her own child. And as for poor Astrid, he never should have married her at all, but then he refused her a baby.’ He turned to me, his face bleak in the darkness. ‘I had forgotten or ignored so much, but I did some real soul searching. She was a great mother to Victoria and me, but she so wanted a baby of her own. Thank God that the minute the old bugger died, she met Art and got pregnant.’
‘Shame it didn’t work out with India’s dad.’
‘A huge shame. He was great.’ Nick sighed. ‘Ah well, plenty of water under every bridge. Shall we go inside?’
I nodded. It had got very cold in the car and the carol singers had moved into a four-part harmony of ‘O Come, All Ye Faithful’, which I wanted to hear. With Steve on a short lead, we slipped around the side of them to stand in the doorway with the rest of the family and applauded vigorously when the final strains of the music finished.
‘Do come inside,’ said Astrid. ‘It’s so cold out here, which isn’t good at all for your lovely voices, and you can warm up before you go on to your next house.’
They nodded eagerly and were ushered into the sitting room by Nick, while Angela helped Marilise and wondered aloud what drinks everyone would like. There was one singer, though, who held back, a tall man in a woolly hat. I was shutting the door as Astrid hurried off to the kitchen.
‘Do come in,’ I said. ‘No need to take off your shoes.’
‘It’s not that,’ he said, then surprised me by suddenly calling, ‘Astrid!’
She turned around and saw the man, who had been standing quietly at the back of the group. All the colour drained from her face, and she clutched at the wall as if to stop herself falling.
