Every Mother's Son by Val Wood Page A

‘You might still be here when I come home again?’
    Daniel gazed at her curiously. She seemed to be held in suspense, not full of bounce and vigour as she usually was but waiting expectantly for his answer.
    ‘Will it matter if I am or not?’ he hedged, and wondered why it should. Their lives were not intertwined; whatever one of them did would not make any difference to the other. They had been childhood friends but they were from different worlds; that much was becoming more apparent as they grew older. Sooner or later their paths would separate, and thinking of that made him feel quite melancholy.
    ‘It will matter to me,’ she said quietly. ‘But seemingly not to you.’
    It was as if she had suddenly become older than her years and he wondered why. He thought that he liked the old capricious Beatrice, the girl who was full of energy and wild foolish ideas, better than the solemn one in front of him now. Was this what happened with young girls? Would Maria and Dolly and Elizabeth change when they reached sixteen? Was this womanhood? Perhaps he should ask his mother, for surely she would know.
    ‘I don’t understand what you mean, Beatrice,’ he said, and she turned her back on him and walked away.
    Christopher Hart broke off from speaking to the young men from Charles’s school and sought out his wife, who was watching the proceedings rather pensively, he thought.
    ‘Melissa,’ he said, ‘everything seems to be going splendidly. I think you and I could slip away to my study and enjoy a quiet brandy.’
    ‘I think you have had one or two already,’ she remarked, and glanced around at the young people, who seemed to have formed themselves into groups of compatibility. The schoolboys were hovering on the edge of the young ladies’ circle, except for one who was in conversation with Daniel Tuke.
    Christopher had questioned Charles’s insistence that Daniel should be invited, pointing out that although he was an old friend he might feel out of his depth; but Beatrice had also wanted him to come and had suggested that they ask his sister so that together they’d be more comfortable. But I was wrong, he thought. He’s perfectly at ease.
    Melissa was looking about her to make sure that no one was alone or not mixing with the others, and she noticed that Maria Tuke and Stephen had disappeared once more into the supper room. She bit on her lower lip. I’m being foolish, she thought. They are still children, and Stephen will be going back to school in January. But still, there was an anxiety in her mind that she couldn’t dispel.
    Christopher poured her a brandy, adding a little soda water as she requested, and sat down in his favourite leather chair opposite her. He sighed.
    ‘I suppose this was a good idea? Mixing and getting to know the sons and daughters of families in our circle?’
    ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘It was how you met Jane, wasn’t it?’
    ‘Mm, yes, a similar way, that’s true,’ he mused, swirling his brandy in the glass. ‘Except that my parents had already earmarked several possibilities.’
    He smiled, and Melissa thought that he was still very handsome, although he’d been looking rather tired lately. She thought, rather sadly, that there was little possibility of her having any more children, and she would dearly have liked another daughter. But I’ve given him three sons, she told herself, and he’s pleased about that.
    He lifted his head and continued, laughing, ‘My father looked at their income and my mother at the suitability of the daughters.’
    ‘Well, it does work quite well, I suppose,’ Melissa agreed, ‘and although I didn’t realize it at the time, I dare say my parents arranged that I should meet Albert, even though we were very young.’ As Beatrice and Charles are now, she reflected. But Albert died of influenza before they could marry, and it was a chance meeting with Christopher several years later, after he was widowed, that drew them together, for