‘There’s a nor’-easter forecast for this afternoon. Might shut the whole damn place down. Thought I’d be in early and see what I can get done before the chaos starts.’
‘But it’s meant to be spring!’
‘I know. Late. Happens, though … They’re predicting up to a foot of snow.’
‘I thought New Yorkers took that in their stride.’
‘They do, more or less. I mean, I fly home in three days and I’m not worried about the flight. They’ll have cleared it all up by then. It’s just today …’
Weather talk. Along with cricket, rugby and football, the safest territory known to Englishmen.
Scott cleared his throat. He needed to get on. ‘So, Dad. We got your invitation.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Charlie was holding his breath.
‘And we’d love to come. It’s really very generous of you.’
Always that slightly formal tone. It made Charlie sad. He ignored it and injected as much bonhomie as he could into his response. ‘Oh, I am glad. All of you? Heather, Hayley, Meredith?’
‘Yes, all of us.’
‘I was worried you might have made bookings already.’
‘No. You caught us in time. We will have a holiday, the four of us, and no doubt Heather will bring the girls over here to catch up with family at some point. She couldn’t do Easter, with Hayley’s exams, but those ten days work for us. We’ll be there.’
‘That’s brilliant.’
‘Have you heard from Laura and Nick?’
‘No. You’re the first.’
That wasn’t quite true. Laura had sent him an email, asking to meet him for lunch. They were seeing each other the next day. She hadn’t said, in the two lines, whether she, Alex and Ethan would come.
‘Well, I so hope they can make it too.’
That wasn’t quite true, either, Scott thought. But it was the right thing to say.
Charlie arrived first, and took an empty table in the café. He saw Laura coming from about a hundred yards away, before she’d put on her game face. He was shocked at her appearance. She’d lost a load of weight in the long gap since the last time they’d met, and she was pale and drawn, beneath slightly too much makeup, which wasn’t her style. She was a handsome woman, his only daughter: she looked like her mum, and she didn’t usually fuss much with makeup. Her colouring – dark hair, almost olive skin, doe eyes with long dark lashes – didn’t require it, any more than her natural curls needed to be artfully arranged. Today, though, she was wearing blusher, and reminded him of Aunt Susan from Worzel Gummidge. She looked anxious and exhausted. As she got to the café door, she stood up straighter, tucked her hair behind her ears, and rearranged her features into a smile, and that shocked him too: she was preparing to put on an act for him. But no amount of acting could disguise the dark circles under her eyes or the way her cardigan hung from her shoulders.
‘Hi, Dad.’ He hugged her, feeling her ribs. She’d never been one for physical affection, even when she was tiny. Nick would lie on your lap all day, and even Scott didn’t mind a bit of a hug, but Laura would squirm and wriggle out of an embrace. Today, though, she practically collapsed in his arms, became almost heavier, so he held her, gently patting her bony shoulder, and wondered what the hell was wrong.
After a long moment, she pulled away, and sank into the chair opposite him. When he took his seat, and looked at her, wondering how much small-talk lay between now and when he might find out what was going on, her eyes filled with tears.
‘Oh, Dad.’
He laid his hand across hers on the table. A smiley waitress approached with her pad and pencil. He raised a hand, surreptitiously, and she backed away, nodding understanding.
‘Darling. What is it?’
He never needed Daphne more than at moments like this. Laura needed her mum. As she had for every scraped knee and wounded heart of her childhood and adolescence. And he needed her to tell him what to do.
For a few minutes, Laura patently couldn’t speak. She was trying to control sobs. Charlie went to the counter, and ordered two English Breakfast teas and a large slice of carrot cake with two forks. Cake seemed a good idea, in the absence of any better ones. Daphne always fed sad people. Or happy ones. Or worried ones. He grabbed a fistful of paper napkins from the stack by the till, and when he got back to the table, he pressed them into Laura’s hand. Then he sat, and waited for her to calm down, blow her nose and be able to speak. While Laura got herself together, the smiley waitress, no longer quite as smiley but empathetic and kind, came with their order, leaving it silently and swiftly, studiously avoiding eye contact with Laura. He would tip her well.
‘Alex has left me. Left us.’
Charlie inhaled sharply, then exhaled slowly through blown-out cheeks. Experienced a sheer rush of relief that she wasn’t ill. That Ethan wasn’t ill. Because nothing could be as bad as that. He realized that, after all, he wasn’t surprised. Buying time. He could hear Daphne, knew exactly what she’d say. Not to Laura, of course – but afterwards, to him.
To Laura, he was infinitely gentle. ‘Oh, my poor love. When?’
‘Christmas.’
A stab. Months ago. She hadn’t said. Maybe he hadn’t given her the opportunity. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I haven’t really told anybody.’
‘But why not?’
‘Humiliation, pride, hurt … and anger. I’m so bloody angry, Dad.’
‘Is there …?’ Charlie didn’t know how to phrase the obvious question. Thankfully, Laura didn’t need him to.
Her tone was bitter. ‘Someone else? Of course there sodding is. Isn’t there always? He’s such a fucking cliché.’
He always fucking was, Charlie wanted to say, but he didn’t. He didn’t swear like that, although if any situation might make him this would be it. He poured tea from the pot into the two mugs, then refilled the pot with the hot water the waitress had brought. And stirred sugar into both mugs, even though neither of them took it normally.
‘A younger woman, who works with him. I mean, for God’s sake. Genevieve.’ She said the name slowly and deliberately.
‘Has he moved out?’
She nodded. ‘To some swanky new flat he’s renting, for now.’
‘But you and Ethan are still – I mean you’ll still be able –’
‘To stay in the house? No. He’s way ahead of the game. Been to see solicitors. Got it all sorted. Wants to be divorced as soon as possible. Sell the house.’
‘Can he do that?’
‘Course he can. Fifty/fifty, everything we have. The house is a huge share of that.’
‘Plus maintenance for Ethan, surely?’
‘Yeah. He’ll have to pay maintenance until Ethan’s eighteen, then education, all of that. But he wants a completely clean break from me.’
‘So you’ll have to put the house on the market?’
‘He wants that done in time for the spring market. That’s now, more or less.’
‘Can he make you do that?’
She nodded despondently. ‘I think so.’
‘Bastard.’ Charlie spoke under his breath, but he wanted her to hear him.