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‘Er, no. I think it would be better if we drove over there now and I told her.’
She stared at Jon unable to believe her ears. Jon was terrified of her mother.
‘Jon, there’s really no need,’ she began.
‘I think there’s every need.’ The cool firmness in his voice silenced her protests and even David and Alex stopped what they were doing to look at him. Probably because they were so unused to hearing their uncle speak in such decisive tones.
‘But you don’t have time. Your flight—’
‘Is all perfectly organised, thanks to my wife. And we have plenty of time. We’ll have a quick snack lunch and leave straight away. All of us.’
And so it was that at three o’clock in the afternoon Sophy found herself drawing up outside her parents’ front door. Once she had stopped the car Jon clambered out, knocking his head as he did so. The front passenger seat of her car was far too small for him. It was easy to overlook how big a man he really was, Sophy reflected, watching him help the children out.
‘You’re going to need a larger car.’
‘Only when you’re travelling in it,’ Sophy told him wryly, leading the way through the garden to the back of her house, knowing that on such a lovely day her parents would be in the garden.
They were, but they weren’t alone and Sophy came to an abrupt halt as the ring of her high-heeled sandals on the crazy paving path caused the tall blonde man lazing in a deckchair to turn his head and look at her.
‘Sophy...good heavens.’
He hadn’t changed, Sophy thought, registering the lazy insolence in his voice, the mockery with which his glance slid over her body, as though reminding her that he knew how lacking in femininity it really was.
‘Sophy?’ Her mother suddenly appeared through the french windows, carrying a tray of tea things, her mouth rounding in astonishment. ‘You didn’t say you were coming over this afternoon.’ There was just a touch of reproof in her mother’s light voice, and Sophy suppressed a faint sigh. Her mother liked everything done by the book, arrangements properly made... She should have thought about that.
‘It’s my fault, I’m afraid, Mrs Marley.’
For the first time since seeing Chris she became conscious of Jon standing beside her.
‘Your... Oh!’ There was no mistaking the displeasure in her mother’s voice and Sophy felt her guilt turn into quiet despair.
‘Where’s Father?’ she asked, scanning the garden.
‘He’s showing Felicity, my wife, the new rose arbour he’s building,’ Chris answered easily. ‘I rather think I shall have to watch my wife, Mrs Marley,’ he added charmingly to Sophy’s mother, ‘I do believe she’s falling rather hard for your husband.’
Listening to her mother’s girlish trill of laughter, Sophy was overwhelmed by a familiar feeling of alienation. She didn’t fit in here in this neat overtidy garden...in this peaceful English family scene. Chris was more at home here than she was, she thought bitterly, and her mother more pleased by his company than she ever was by hers.
‘Nonsense, you foolish boy,’ she chided Chris. ‘Anyone can see that Felicity only has eyes for you. She’s so much in love with you.’
She could almost see Chris preening himself under her mother’s flattery and suddenly Sophy felt the most acute dislike for him. She had fallen out of love with him a long time ago but this dislike was a new and gloriously freeing thing, giving her the courage to say calmly, ‘Mother, there’s something I—’
‘I think I should be the one to break our news to your parents, Sophy.’
The deep and commanding tones of Jon’s voice broke through her own, silencing her. She blinked and turned round to study him, wondering at this sudden assumption of masculine authority, half expecting to see someone else standing behind her. But no, it was still Jon, looking thoroughly hot and uncomfortable in his baggy cords and thick woollen shirt, his glasses catching the sunlight and obscuring his eyes from her.
Their voices had obviously carried down the garden, and Sophy watched her father walking towards them accompanied by Chris’s wife. She was every bit as pretty as her mother had said but Sophy felt no envy for her, only a certain wry sympathy. Unless he had changed dramatically, Chris did not have it in him to be loyal and loving to one woman, even one as lovely as this. Her pregnancy barely showed, her light summer dress showing off her summer tan.
