His eyes were sparkling, his lashes clogged, and he went over to the arrangement and breathed deeply. ‘It’s got those wonderful roses in it—the ones with the French name—and the gladioli, and the—oh, all sorts!’ He turned to her, laughing. ‘You took me round the garden and pumped me about these,’ he accused, pointing a finger at her chest. ‘You crafty little minx.’
‘Of course. Women are devious,’ she said, thinking of his mother and the surprise party waiting for him. Perhaps she’d better change the subject! She held out the bottle. ‘This is from my parents. They said happy birthday.’
He took it and looked at her. ‘I’ll put it in the fridge, and we can have it later. Just now I want to thank you properly.’
They picked Harry up from her parents at eleven o’clock, and Max thanked them for the wine and for donating the flowers. Her mother had a big kiss, which
‘Have a nice day,’ they said warmly, and Anna strapped Harry into his booster seat in her car and they set off. They were taking her car so that Max could drink, as it was his birthday celebration, and Anna had a feeling the family intended him to celebrate it whether he wanted to or not! It took just over an hour, and by the time they arrived Harry was beginning to fidget.
They turned onto the drive and Max heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God for that. I did wonder if the whole darned clan would be here—my mother’s not beyond that.’
Anna said nothing. She was too busy biting her lip. She parked the car on the drive, beside one other, and wondered where the other cars were hidden. In the garage, perhaps? It looked big enough, and the car on the drive wasn’t arousing his suspicions.
‘Whose is that?’ she asked, indicating it.
‘Oh, Mother’s. She always leaves it out. Too lazy to put it away. Come on, let’s go and find them. Out you get, Harry.’
He was heading for the side of the house when the front door opened and his father appeared. ‘Hello, Max. Happy birthday, son. Anna, Harry, hello. Come on in. You’ve made good time.’
‘Anna’s driving. You can blame her if we’re early,’ he said with a smile, and hugged his father. ‘Good to see you again. You look well.’
‘You look pretty good yourself. Come on in, let’s find your mother.’
She followed them through the door, and Max’s father
He held back, and Max opened the door, to find streamers and balloons and all sorts dangling round the room. ‘Mother?’ he said, bemused, and then people jumped up from behind the furniture. He stood there, totally astonished, a stunned expression on his face.
‘Happy birthday!’ they all chorused, and he laughed and hugged them all, one by one. ‘Mother, I’ll get you,’ he threatened, but he didn’t sound cross at all.
He turned to Anna. ‘Did you know about this?’ he asked, and all eyes swivelled to her.
‘I confess,’ she said with a smile.
He shook his head despairingly, and then he caught sight of Harry and froze.
‘By the way, everyone, let me introduce you,’ Clare was saying. ‘Anna, this is Joel, and his wife Patty, and their children Thomas and Daisy, and this is our daughter Frankie, and her husband Rick, and their children Emily and Stephen—oh, I don’t know where they are. Under the table, I think. And this is Andrew, and Julia, and little Sophie. Everybody, this is Anna, a colleague of Max’s, and her son, Harry.’ She peered round. ‘Where is Harry, by the way?’
‘Here,’ he said, coming out from behind Anna and peering at something in his hand. ‘I found a spider. It’s dead.’ Then he looked up and smiled, totally unaware of the impact he was having, and said, ‘Hello.’
There was a collective intake of breath, and all eyes were glued to him. All adult eyes, anyway. The children were too busy playing tag. After a stunned second they pulled themselves together and started talking all at once.
‘Do they know?’ he asked in an undertone.
‘Yes—the adults.’
‘I’ll kill you if this goes wrong,’ he threatened.
‘Nothing’s going to go wrong,’ she promised. ‘It’s a little party. Just enjoy it.’
Lunch was a splendid affair, a huge sit-down meal for all sixteen of them at a great refectory table which had been somehow carried out to the garden and placed in the shade of a lovely tree. Admittedly they were a bit squashed up, but nobody seemed to mind, and the children were all muddled up amongst them and helped and corrected and encouraged by all the adults regardless.
Harry joined in without hesitation, wedged between Frankie and Joel, and he seemed to be having a wonderful time.
Wine flowed, because nobody was driving for ages. Anna was cautious and restricted herself to one glass of champagne, just in case Max decided they needed to leave suddenly if things got out of hand.
After the meal everyone retired, groaning, to the garden chairs dotted around in the shade, or sat on the grass under the trees on rugs. Some carried on drinking wine, others had tea or coffee. Having made sure Max and Harry were happily engaged, Anna went into the house to see if she could help with the clearing up.
Predictably, the women were in the kitchen, and as she walked in they fell silent. Not surprising, Anna thought. She and Harry were bound to have been the topic of conversation.
‘Can I help?’ she asked.
Patty was up to her elbows in suds, and smiled at Anna as she picked up the first glass. ‘Nice to meet you, by the way. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at lunch, we were too far apart. You’re very brave, agreeing to do this, you know. Clare can be a bit of a bully.’
Clare laughed. ‘You exaggerate. I didn’t have to bully at all, did I?’
‘How can she say yes, Mother?’ Frankie said with a smile.
‘Actually, she didn’t have to bully me,’ Anna admitted. ‘I wanted to meet you all. I’ve been telling Max how unfair it is to keep Harry from his family, but he’s—’
‘Stubborn?’ Julia offered. ‘Runs in the family, like wooden legs,’ she said drily. ‘The whole lot of them are tarred with the same brush. Stunning blue eyes and utterly intractable. Talk about mules being difficult.’
‘We’re wonderful!’ Frankie protested, and Patty and Julia laughed.
‘In your dreams,’ Patty said fondly. ‘He’s gorgeous, by the way. He’s a credit to you.’
Anna followed the direction of her gaze through the kitchen window, and saw Harry playing with the others. It was some kind of organised game, and he was joining in with the others as if he’d always been there. She felt her eyes prickling, and blinked hard.
‘Thank you,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I’ve always wondered if he had any cousins. I’m an only child, so Max’s family were his only hope. I’m so glad he’s getting on well with them.’
Anna couldn’t help the tears. They welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them away and turned into Clare’s arms, hugging her hard. ‘Thank you,’ she said unsteadily. ‘Thank you so much.’
‘Oh, Lord, you’re going to start us all off,’ Frankie said, sniffing. ‘Come on, they’ll be in here in a minute, demanding tea, and the place is still in chaos.’
Clare released her and went back to sorting her salads and leftovers, Patty handed her another glass, Julia started wiping down the worktops and Frankie, redundant at that moment, went outside and started gathering up abandoned wineglasses.
The chatter became more general, and they included Anna whenever possible, telling her stories about the family, asking her about her life and Harry’s childhood and her own parents, until she felt she’d known them all for years.
And she knew that no matter what happened to Max, they’d be there for her, like a loving safety net, supporting and sustaining each other through whatever was to come.
She felt the tension ease out of her, the tightened coil of fear inside shift and relax—not much, but just a little. Enough. All they had to do was get through the next few days until Max got his results, and somehow even that seemed less terrifying now than it had.
A problem shared, and all that.
* * *
Clare had said it would be, and she’d been right, of course. It went without a hitch.
Well, almost. There was the spellbinding moment just after the huge birthday cake had been brought out, blazing. Max had blown out the candles quickly before the tree caught fire, and they’d all sung ‘Happy Birthday’, and then, in a clear, piping voice, one of the children called Harry Thomas, and everyone froze.
Then Daisy started laughing.’ emily called Harry Thomas,’ she crowed. ‘Isn’t that funny?’
‘But he looks like Thomas,’ Emily said petulantly.
There was another pregnant silence, then Frankie said lightly, ‘When I was at school there was a girl who looked just like me. We were always getting into trouble for each other’s scrapes. I never worked out if we got into half or twice as much trouble. I suspect twice.’
And the conversation picked up seamlessly, and Max started to breathe again. ‘That was close,’ he said to Anna under his breath. ‘I think we need to get out of here before anything else happens.’
She nodded. ‘I agree. The kids are all as sharp as tacks. It won’t take them five minutes to work it out if Harry tells them his father went away.’
Frankie appeared at Anna’s side and hugged her. ‘Incidentally, I think you’re just the woman for my brother. He looks happier than he’s looked for years. Keep up the good work,’ she whispered.
‘What are you plotting?’ Max asked suspiciously.
‘She said I’m wearing you out,’ Anna lied with a wink. ‘Come on, we need to go. We’ve got a drive and Harry’s tired.’
‘Thank you so much for today,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going to go and enjoy my flowers.’ He kissed her again. Turning in the seat, he pressed a kiss to his fingers and laid them gently on Harry’s brow. ‘Goodnight, little one,’ he murmured.
Then he was out of the car, closing the door softly behind him and pushing it till it clicked. Anna drove up to her cottage, took Harry up to bed via the bathroom and slipped him under the covers without really waking him.
She phoned her mother to ask after the cat, curled up in a chair with a cup of tea and reflected on the events of the day. It had been a good day—a wonderful day—and she felt surrounded by the love and acceptance of the entire Carter clan.
That they all adored Max was obvious. What was equally obvious was that they were desperate for an opportunity to love Harry in the same way, and she vowed that, whatever Max decided to do, she would keep in touch with his family.
The flowers made the whole house smell wonderful. Max poured himself a glass of juice, put on a CD of choral music and lay back in his chair, feet up, and relaxed.
He missed Annie, but he felt she was here with him, with the flowers she’d chosen and arranged for him. He breathed deeply, inhaled the delicate, intoxicating fragrance and sighed contentedly.
Harry had had fun, he thought with a smile, remembering
It was a sobering thought. Perhaps Annie was right, he admitted reluctantly. Perhaps it was wrong to deny Harry and the rest of them access to each other.
Still, the results would be revealed in a day or two, and he would have a better idea of what to do. If he was still in remission, then perhaps it was time to tell Harry that he was his father. If not…
If not didn’t bear thinking about. He’d have to go through another programme of treatment, another gruelling period of waiting to hear, of further tests, of more treatment, more tests…
He’d worry about it if it happened. For now, he’d listen to the music, enjoy the beauty of the flowers and relax…
‘You will come back? No matter what they say, you will come back and tell me, won’t you?’
Max hugged Annie gently. ‘I will come back,’ he said, fear coiling in him. He was lying. If his results were bad, he’d decided not to come back. He’d check into a hotel, then find somewhere else to live. He’d never see her again.
He kissed her hungrily, and she hugged him hard, hanging on till the last moment. ‘Annie, I have to go,’ he said gruffly, and she released him reluctantly.
He slid behind the wheel and shut the car door, his eyes locked with hers. She knows, he realised. She knows I won’t come back if it’s bad.
He swallowed, gunned the engine and shot off down the road, blinking hard. Dammit, he wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t look back. He wouldn’t…
Not ever. He couldn’t do it to his parents, even if there were times when the thought had been more than welcome.
He couldn’t do it to Anna, or Harry. There was a picture in his wallet of Harry, laughing, in the garden at the cottage. He was beautiful, mischievous and bright-eyed, and the camera had caught his expression exactly.
At the thought of his son, a huge lump blocked his throat and he swallowed hard. ‘Stop thinking about him,’ he ordered himself, and turned the radio on to a news programme. Maybe it would take his mind off it.
The train journey was as awful as ever, and he crossed London on the tube and arrived with only five minutes to spare. Nevertheless, he had to wait, and every minute was agony. The hands on the clock seemed to crawl, and he was so tense, so overwound, that when the nurse called his name he felt his heart lurch with fear.
Not for himself, but for all he would lose if this went wrong.
Gathering the last shreds of his self-control, he stood up and walked towards his destiny.
It was the longest day of Anna’s life. She’d spent the night with Max, making love tenderly until they were too tired to move, and then sleeping, wrapped in each other’s arms. He’d taken the early train, and she’d cleared up the house,
Harry was almost a permanent resident now, she thought wearily, and decided that, no matter what today revealed, Harry would know that Max was his father, and she would stay with him and marry him if she had to handcuff him to get him to the altar!
They belonged together, no matter what Max said. ‘For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till…’
She stopped there. No. She’d be positive. He was all right. He was going to be all right.
He had to be all right.
She ran upstairs and found her mother coming out of the bathroom.
‘Has he gone?’ she asked softly, and Anna nodded.
‘Yes. He’s getting the early train. Is Harry awake yet?’
‘No. Why don’t you go and have a cuddle with him?’
She did, sliding under the covers in her clothes and snuggling him up against her. He was small and sleepy and warm, and she tucked her nose into the side of his neck and sniffed. He smelt wonderful, her very own little horror, and she loved him more than she could have believed possible.
‘Hello, Mummy,’ he mumbled, and turned in her arms, cuddling up against her and jabbing his knees in her stomach. She kissed his nose.
‘Time to get up, sleepyhead,’ she said affectionately. ‘What do you want for breakfast?’
‘We’ve got gooses’ eggs, Grannie said,’ he told her. ‘We’re going to have them scrambled on toast.’
She threw back the cover and scooped him out, and he sat on her knee and hugged her and gave her a wet but very welcome kiss.
Dear Lord, he had his father’s eyes.
Suppressing another pang of fear, Anna trundled him along to the bathroom, hustled him through the teeth and facewash and loo routine, and then chivvied him into his clothes and downstairs.
‘Ah, you’re just in time,’ Sarah said with a smile. ‘Have you had breakfast, darling?’
‘Not yet.’ She felt warmth creep up her throat. They’d forgone breakfast for another chance to hold each other, and now she was torn between hunger and the sickness of anticipation.
‘You need to eat,’ her mother tutted. ‘Sit. Drink this tea, and I’ll do you scrambled eggs on toast with us. Want some bacon?’
‘Go on, then,’ Anna said, giving in gratefully. She needed to be mothered toda
y, and she was going to let her mother do it. She sensed they all needed it in a way. Closing ranks, she thought, keeping fear at bay.
Thank goodness she had a busy day at work ahead of her.
‘Oh, Fred, not again,’ she sighed.
He staggered into her room, a blood-soaked rag pressed to his head. “S that kerb—gets me every time,’ he muttered. ‘I swear they come along and raise it when I’m not lookin’. Turned my ankle and all. Blimmin’ nuisance.’
‘Let’s have you lying down, then,’ Anna said patiently,
‘You need some new socks,’ she told him, trying not to gag. She covered his feet to trap the smell, and took the soggy rag out of his hand. ‘Let’s have a look at your face.’
He’d opened up the same cut, of course, barely healed and not yet strong enough for another encounter with the pavement, and she washed it and infiltrated it with anaesthetic.
He was sober this time, but he still protested and complained.
‘Right, while that’s going numb, let’s have a look at your ankle, shall we?’ she suggested, and peeled back the blanket. The smell assailed her again, and she eyed his socks with concern. They were soaked, dripping with sweat, probably due in no small part to the rubber boots he always wore.
She peeled them off with her gloved hands, and then blinked in surprise. The heels and soles of both feet were covered in thick, yellowed skin, with cracks and fissures all over the soggy and clearly infected areas.
He had a condition called hyperkeratosis plantaris—roughly translated, too much skin on the soles of the feet—and because they were permanently lying in water in his rubber boots and thin socks, they never dried out and had become infected.
‘You need to see a doctor,’ she told him. ‘Stay here, I’ll see if anyone can take a look at you.’
‘What ‘bout that nice young doc—Carter, innit?’ he said.
Her heart lurched. She’d managed to forget, for a moment.
‘He’s away today,’ she said calmly. ‘I’ll see if Dr Fellows can pop in and have a look at you.’
‘You’ll need a prescription for that, something to rub on twice a day, and you’ll have to get some better shoes. These rubber boots are all very well in wet weather, but you can’t wear them all the time, Fred.’
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