passed to Nathan, saying, 'It's pretty wet out there.'
So he found himself sitting on the floor of the Foxs' kitchen, shoeless, tugging on a pair of Wellingtons that were half a size too small.
He stood, and Holly passed his coat.
He followed her into the garden. June made herself busy at the sink. Periodically, he could feel her eyes sweep across them like the beam of a lighthouse.
Holly wore a Barbour jacket, Graham's he supposed, and a scarf that looked wiry and uncomfortable. She dug her hands deep into its pockets. It was bright and wet: the sun low on the horizon. He could hear their footfalls and their breath. Long grass, heavy with water, brushed at his legs. He heard distant cows, the harsh barking of crows.
They stopped at the teetering, half-rotten picket fence at the edge of the orchard. Holly sat down on a stile, knees pressed together, elbows on knees, chin cupped in her hands. She stared without seeing in the direction of the house. Nathan stared into the scratchy, leafless complexity of the orchard.
She said, 'I can't believe you did that.'
'Did what?'
'Came to meet my parents'
'They're lovely. They made me tea.'
She removed the band from her ponytail. Her hair fell around her face. She twisted the band round her wrist. Strands of red hair were caught in it, picking up the sunlight.
'Don't be completely fooled. Dad can be fearsome, when he wants to be. He used to be in the navy.'
'He didn't seem all that fearsome to me.'
'He must have liked the look of you.'
Nathan turned away to lean on the fence.
Holly was still looking at the house, quizzically, like someone trying to remember a dream.
She said, 'It was a lovely thing to do. In a slightly scary way.'
There was a bird in the tree. He didn't know what kind. A starling perhaps. It watched him with a still, reptilian eye.
'I don't know about that,' he said.
'Liar,' she said.
Later, they wandered back to the house. They kept their hands firmly in their pockets and their heads down. They hadn't spoken much.
In the kitchen, they kicked off their boots, left them on the mat, then removed their jackets and, in wet socks and muddy trousers, tramped down the hallway to hang them up.
They sat down to lunch with Graham and June: parsnip soup, then cold ham and oven chips with salad. Holly's parents asked a number of questions, mostly about Nathan's career. Nathan wanted Graham and June to like him, and he wanted Holly to see them liking him. So he found himself emphasizing his achievements including those achievements which, even to his ears, sounded faintly absurd.
During lunch, Holly said little. But she looked at him sometimes.
Later, while she read the newspaper, Nathan helped June rinse the plates and load the dishwasher.
With the business section of the paper folded under his arm, Graham excused himself and went upstairs for his weekend nap. On his way, he once again offered Nathan his hand.
'Very nice to meet you.'
'And you.'
When the dishwasher was loaded and in its cycle, Nathan checked his watch and said he must be leaving. He retrieved his shoes and jacket.
Saying goodbye, June offered her cheek. When he kissed her, she squeezed his hand once.
It was left to Holly to see him off. Still in her hiking socks, arms crossed over her breasts, head down, she accompanied him down the hallway and on to the drive. As he looked for his keys, she rocked back and forth on her heels.
'I don't even know you.'
He leaned on the low roof of his car. 'This is weird for me too. Do you think I do this kind of thing all the time?'
'I don't know.'
'Well, I don't. Trust me.'
She met his eyes. Something bright and angry in her gaze.
'We'll see.'
He laughed, although she was not joking, and he got into his clean car and started the engine and pulled away, leaving her standing there, diminishing, her arms crossed and her thick, grey socks soaked by the wet grass.
He took the long way home, circumventing the forest.
When he got home, he realized what had bothered him about the house. On the wall were hung several paintings: reproductions, some watercolours. On the bookshelves were arranged brass and china knick-knacks.
But there were no photographs.
19
He lay his forehead on the desk. He was smiling. He too went to pieces when leaving personal messages on answer machines.
Then he strutted through to Justin's office.
He said, 'It turns out, I'm not as busy as I thought. I'll look after the report. We should talk about it down the pub.'
Justin almost burst with happiness.
When Nathan got back from lunch on Thursday, Justin was dallying in the corner of his office, a draft report concertinaed in his fist.
Probably, it was something important and overdue -- something that Nathan would be required to take immediate and urgent care of, because Justin had filed it in the boot of his Mercedes for the last three months.
It took twenty minutes to convince Justin it wasn't necessary to discuss this emergency down the pub.
When, finally, Justin had stomped away, Nathan retrieved his voicemail. The first two calls were from irate customers chasing delivery of orders agreed at terms two months ago. The third was from Holly. Gently, Nathan closed the office door and listened to the message three times, looking for hidden significance.
Hi. It's me. I hate these things. Anyway, I was wondering -- are you still there? - if you'd like to come for lunch on Sunday. And then.
I don't know. Go out or something. Am I rambling? I'm no good at these things. Anyway. Give me a bell. Right. Bye. It's me, by the way. Did I say that? Bye.
On Sunday, Nathan took the long route to Sutton Down.
Graham had cooked the Sunday roast. When Nathan had finished clearing the table and loading the dishwasher and leaving the roasting tin to soak, Holly slipped her arm through his.
There was the shock of first physical contact.
She said, 'Come on.'
'Where are we going?'
'Drink?'
Nathan looked at June as if to say What can I do ? as he and Holly got their coats.
A morning fog had not quite cleared. The village was quiet.
They walked along the banks of the river. He tried to think only good thoughts.
She said, 'We're doing this backwards.'
'What do you mean?'
'My parents know you as well as I do.'
'I don't mind that.'
They walked for a minute.
