Graham passed by with kettle in hand. June shifted to one side to accommodate him as he filled it with water.
Nathan couldn't believe what he'd done to these people.
He followed June to the conservatory. They sat round a coffee table, upon which was spread the previous week's Sunday Telegraph. Nathan hitched his trousers as he sat, as if June were about to interview him.
A fragile rattling behind them was Graham, following them through with a pot of tea on a tray. He laid it out on the coffee table, with cups and saucers and spoons, a bowl for sugar and a little jug for the milk.
Graham too hitched his trousers as he sat. Then he leaned forward, took the lid from the teapot, gave it a stir.
'Let's give it five minutes.'
June offered Nathan a plate on which were arranged some shortcake fingers. Nathan took one, unhungry but glad of the distraction.
He used a cupped hand for a plate until June passed him a saucer.
June said, 'She shouldn't be long. She's getting Hetty seen to.'
'Hetty?'
'Our daughter's cat.'
He knew which daughter they meant.
Not Holly.
He said, 'Oh.'
Sorrow descended on them like weather. Then Graham made a visible effort to brighten. Nathan wondered how many times a day such an effort was necessary.
'So,' said Graham, 'how do you know Holly?'
'Well.' Nathan's salesman's smile felt stretched and taut, insincere as an evangelist. 'I suppose you could say we met at work.'
June raised an enquiring eyebrow.
'I was looking to buy a house. We met that way.'
'Ah.'
Another silence fell; it was not strained but there was sadness in it.
Nathan felt trapped by the weight of it.
He said, 'We went for a drink, a couple of weeks back.'
June raised that eyebrow again. Graham poured tea into a china cup, then added a dash of milk.
'It didn't go so well,' said Nathan. 'To tell you the absolute truth.'
'The thing is,' said Graham, 'I'm afraid that Holly's had rather a difficult time of it, lately.'
Nathan looked at his lap, brushing at a pollen stain, saying, 'I know. Well, I know something about it. I mean, Holly mentioned it.'
'I see.
They sipped tea.
Nathan said, 'I'm afraid I don't know what to say.'
'That's very kind. But you're really not expected to say anything.'
Nathan nodded. He could feel Elise in the room with them.
Staring at him. Dirt in her hair and nostrils.
A gust of wind blew through the small orchard that backed on to the garden.
Nathan said, 'You have a lovely place.'
'It belonged to my father,' said Graham.
June said, 'We didn't want to bring the girls up in the city.'
Nathan nodded.
June said, 'Holly has taken on a great deal over the last few years.
But we don't want her to be scared of life.' She glanced meaningfully at the flowers, glorious in a crystal vase.
Nathan nodded that he understood. He drained his cup.
Immediately, as in a Japanese tea ceremony, Graham refilled it.
'So we're glad you came,' said June. 'Because we think she deserves a little happiness. A little bit of fun.'
Later, he assumed the old, stone walls must have muffled the sound of the car in the drive - because when Holly's key went in the lock he was taken by surprise. In his shock, he went automatically to stand and nearly spilled the fresh cup of tea. Mortified, he looked to June. But June was waving him towards the flowers, hurrying him along.
From the hallway, Holly called out: 'Whose car's that at the end of the drive?'
Graham made a happy, complicit face and called out: 'Tea, darling?'
'Gasping.'
Nathan
heard a rigmarole-as she set something down, then removed and hung up her coat.
He stood there with the dripping wet flowers in his fist.
Holly walked into the kitchen. She wore no make-up and had pulled her hair into a hasty ponytail. She was flushed with cold. She wore a cable-knit sweater, old blue jeans and big, grey hiking socks.
In her hand she carried a cat box.
She looked at Nathan as if unable, for the moment, to place him.
Then she said, 'Oh.'
Nathan smiled and handed her the flowers.
'To say sorry.'
She was still holding the cat box.
'Sorry for what?'
'Making a mess of things.'
'You didn't.'
'Okay. Then I'm sorry it didn't work out the way I'd hoped.'
'That's not your fault either.'
'It doesn't stop me being sorry.'
'How did you find out where I live?'
Nathan had made no provision for this.
'No, really,' she said, 'how did you find out where I live?'
'I looked you up. In the phone book.'
'We're not in the phone book.'
'An old one. I've got all these old phone books. Well, they're not mine. They're in the flat. In a cupboard. With the meters.'
'And how did you know which village to look for?'
'You mentioned.'
'I don't remember that. Usually I make a point of not mentioning.'
He
shrugged, as if he was sorry. 'You mentioned.'
Her look of flinty wariness softened. She glanced over his shoulder, at her parents who stood there bursting with hope. She put her weight on one hip.
'Whatever. It was pretty resourceful.'
'What can I say?'
'Not to mention determined.'
June stepped between Nathan and Holly, taking the flowers from him and saying, 'Holly, why don't you show Nathan the garden?'
Holly regarded him with an equivocal expression.
'Wait there.'
He did. She came back wearing a pair of green Wellington boots and carrying a second pair, which she
