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“It’s all right,” Esme said cheerfully, as if she’d been reading her mind. “I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been asked if Hugh is my father.”
Iris smiled. “My husband is older than me too.”
“How much older?”
“Six years.”
Esme eyes danced. “Hugh is twenty years older than me.”
A noise, which started as a low moan before developing into a shrill whistle, had Esme reaching for a fat china teapot sitting on the side.
“That’s a sound I haven’t heard for a while,” Iris remarked.
“I love it.” Esme moved the kettle slightly off the hob, reducing the noise to a whimper. “Something as good as a cup of tea should be announced properly, don’t you think?”
As if mesmerized by an ancient ritual, Iris watched as Esme heated the teapot with water from the kettle and swirled it around before emptying it into the sink. Stretching to the cupboard above her head, she retrieved an old tin and spooned some of the contents into the pot before adding the still-boiling water.
“There!” she said happily. Grabbing a tea towel, she wrapped it around the handle of the teapot and carried it over to the low table. “Come and sit down while I get some mugs.”
Iris waited until Esme had poured the tea. “How did you and Hugh meet?” she asked, unable to hide her interest.
“He lived down the road from my parents, but I only really met him when I moved back home after I split up with my partner, who I’d been living with for three years.” Esme reached for her mug and brought it to her lips, holding it there a moment, warming her mouth against the hot china. “It was a painful time for me and I wasn’t in a good place. I was thirty years old and the man I’d thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with had suddenly got cold feet, probably because I’d been banging on too much about having babies. It meant I had to give up my job because we both worked for the same company, and it was too hard seeing him every day. So, there I was at Mum and Dad’s, trying to get my life back on track, when Mum asked me if I’d help Hugh out. His wife had died a few months before and he needed someone to pick up his son from school and look after him until he came back from work, and as I didn’t have anything else to do, I agreed to step in.” Esme paused to take a sip of tea. “I’d met Hugh once before but couldn’t remember anything about him except that he was old, so I never imagined I’d fall in love with him.”
Iris smiled. “But you did.”
“Yes. It was a gradual thing. At first, as soon as he arrived home in the evenings, I’d leave him and Marcus to it. But after a while, he began asking me to stay and have dinner with them and before long I was totally in love. When he admitted that he loved me too I was over the moon, although we were a little worried about what my parents would say. Luckily, they were really happy for us, and I found myself with a ready-made son.”
“How old is Marcus?”
“Twenty-two. He lives and works in London, where we lived before moving here.” Esme lifted her legs onto the sofa and tucked a cushion under her knees. So, your turn now—how did you and your husband meet?”
“Playing squash. We were paired together in the mixed doubles. I was twenty and still at university and Gabriel was twenty-six.”
“You’ve known him a long time, then.”
“Yes.” Iris’s mind slipped back to the man she’d seen in the garden. “So, if Marcus is Hugh’s son, who’s Joseph?”
“A family friend. He’s a landscape gardener by trade, and he’s giving us a hand with our garden.”
As Iris nodded, her eye caught sight of the time on the huge clock face that adorned one of the walls in the kitchen area.
“Is that the time?” she exclaimed, struggling to get out of the sofa that had seemed to swallow her up. “I need to go. I’ve been gone nearly an hour.”
“You’re welcome to stay longer.” Esme sounded wistful. “I haven’t got anything planned for the rest of the afternoon.”
“Thank you, but I can’t. We have a friend staying with us, and I need to get back.” Sensing Esme’s disappointment, Iris hurried to explain. “She’s going through a bit of a rough time at the moment, so it wouldn’t be fair to leave her on her own for any longer.”
“Of course.” Esme heaved herself up. She looked at Iris, taking in her shorts, T-shirt and trainers. “Were you really out jogging in this heat?”
“Yes, but I’ll be walking back. It really is too hot to run.” She turned to Esme. “Thank you for the tea. It was a lovely break.”
Esme put a hand on Iris’s arm. “Come for supper,” she said impulsively. “Saturday, if you’re free. That way you can meet Hugh. Bring your friend, if she’s still here.”
“But you’ve only just moved in,” Iris protested. “Why don’t you come to us?”
“No, really, come here.”
“Are you sure?”
