didn’t move.
‘Milk and sugar, Nat?’ Jen asked her.
Natalie passed her hand over her eyes. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘But just a quick one. Andrew and I need to get going.’
‘Nat,’ Jen pleaded. ‘Please stay.’
‘No, Jen. Not under these circumstances. Don’t you see that’s it’s completely unfair, what you did, bringing us here under false pretences…’
‘That’s a bit strong,’ Andrew said, and almost instantly regretted it. Natalie turned to him and threw her hands up, shaking her head.
‘What a surprise. You’re taking her side.’
‘There aren’t any sides, Nat. I just think that now we’re here…’
‘We can enjoy the reunion? No. I don’t want a reunion. I don’t want a walk down memory lane. I came here for you, Andrew, because you wanted to come, but to come here and find we’ve been lied to…’
Jen walked over to her and took Natalie’s hands in her own. Nat tried for a moment to pull away, but gave up.
‘I’m sorry, Nat. I was wrong. I actually can’t quite believe I did that. After I did, I kept trying to think of ways to tell you that Lilah would be here too without you cancelling. I chickened out. I thought that once you got here, and you saw everyone, once you were here at the house…’
‘That we’d forgive you. Well, you were half right.’
‘Stay for lunch. You have to stay for lunch.’
‘We don’t
have
to…’
‘No, you really do. Have you looked outside?’ As one, they turned and looked out of the window, where virgin snow lay inches thick on the window sills and the lawn outside. ‘We must have had a foot of snow last night. You’re not going anywhere for a good few hours. There is a snow plough in the village, it usually does this road, but it might not be until this afternoon. You’re stuck here, for the moment. Sorry.’
Natalie cleared her throat. She sighed. ‘Can I use your landline then?’ Her voice was tight, as though something was pressing against her throat. ‘Or the internet? Do you have internet access? I can’t get a signal and I want to contact my daughters.’
‘Of course you can. The phone’s upstairs, or there’s a laptop in my room.’ As Natalie turned to walk upstairs, Jen shot Andrew an anxious glance, gave him a guilty little shrug, a half-smile.
He let it go. He knew what Jen was thinking. Had Nat always been so tightly wound? Did she always have such a bad temper? Well, no, she didn’t. And it wasn’t temper now. It was a lot more complicated than that. The thing was, with Nat, that you had to learn to read the signs. Anyone else looking at her, the stiffness of her movements, the way she stood with her arms folded across her body, hands on opposite elbows, would think that she was tense, defensive, closed off. They would listen to her voice and hear that strained tone and imagine that she was about to throw a tantrum.
But Andrew didn’t hear plaintive, he heard exhausted. And he could see, from the way she turned to speak to him – the way she turned her whole body, not just her head – that her back was bothering her, more than usual. She held her arms like that to remind herself to stand straight, which eased the strain on her spine and helped, in a small way, to alleviate her pain. The thing you had to realise with Natalie was that she lived with pain. Some days were worse than others. But what other people didn’t realise about Natalie was that she was the bravest person Andrew knew.
So when Natalie talked about ‘her daughters’, he let it slide. When she turned on her heel and stomped off upstairs to try to call them, he smiled at Jen and said, ‘It’ll be all right. Once she’s spoken to the girls and had something to eat, she’ll start to feel better. Her back, you know.’
‘I know. Some days are worse than others.’
So he’d said it to her before. He must have said it in letters, he couldn’t remember saying it to her face. There were, after all, only a handful of occasions on
‘Milk and sugar, Nat?’ Jen asked her.
Natalie passed her hand over her eyes. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘But just a quick one. Andrew and I need to get going.’
‘Nat,’ Jen pleaded. ‘Please stay.’
‘No, Jen. Not under these circumstances. Don’t you see that’s it’s completely unfair, what you did, bringing us here under false pretences…’
‘That’s a bit strong,’ Andrew said, and almost instantly regretted it. Natalie turned to him and threw her hands up, shaking her head.
‘What a surprise. You’re taking her side.’
‘There aren’t any sides, Nat. I just think that now we’re here…’
‘We can enjoy the reunion? No. I don’t want a reunion. I don’t want a walk down memory lane. I came here for you, Andrew, because you wanted to come, but to come here and find we’ve been lied to…’
Jen walked over to her and took Natalie’s hands in her own. Nat tried for a moment to pull away, but gave up.
‘I’m sorry, Nat. I was wrong. I actually can’t quite believe I did that. After I did, I kept trying to think of ways to tell you that Lilah would be here too without you cancelling. I chickened out. I thought that once you got here, and you saw everyone, once you were here at the house…’
‘That we’d forgive you. Well, you were half right.’
‘Stay for lunch. You have to stay for lunch.’
‘We don’t
have
to…’
‘No, you really do. Have you looked outside?’ As one, they turned and looked out of the window, where virgin snow lay inches thick on the window sills and the lawn outside. ‘We must have had a foot of snow last night. You’re not going anywhere for a good few hours. There is a snow plough in the village, it usually does this road, but it might not be until this afternoon. You’re stuck here, for the moment. Sorry.’
Natalie cleared her throat. She sighed. ‘Can I use your landline then?’ Her voice was tight, as though something was pressing against her throat. ‘Or the internet? Do you have internet access? I can’t get a signal and I want to contact my daughters.’
‘Of course you can. The phone’s upstairs, or there’s a laptop in my room.’ As Natalie turned to walk upstairs, Jen shot Andrew an anxious glance, gave him a guilty little shrug, a half-smile.
He let it go. He knew what Jen was thinking. Had Nat always been so tightly wound? Did she always have such a bad temper? Well, no, she didn’t. And it wasn’t temper now. It was a lot more complicated than that. The thing was, with Nat, that you had to learn to read the signs. Anyone else looking at her, the stiffness of her movements, the way she stood with her arms folded across her body, hands on opposite elbows, would think that she was tense, defensive, closed off. They would listen to her voice and hear that strained tone and imagine that she was about to throw a tantrum.
But Andrew didn’t hear plaintive, he heard exhausted. And he could see, from the way she turned to speak to him – the way she turned her whole body, not just her head – that her back was bothering her, more than usual. She held her arms like that to remind herself to stand straight, which eased the strain on her spine and helped, in a small way, to alleviate her pain. The thing you had to realise with Natalie was that she lived with pain. Some days were worse than others. But what other people didn’t realise about Natalie was that she was the bravest person Andrew knew.
So when Natalie talked about ‘her daughters’, he let it slide. When she turned on her heel and stomped off upstairs to try to call them, he smiled at Jen and said, ‘It’ll be all right. Once she’s spoken to the girls and had something to eat, she’ll start to feel better. Her back, you know.’
‘I know. Some days are worse than others.’
So he’d said it to her before. He must have said it in letters, he couldn’t remember saying it to her face. There were, after all, only a handful of occasions on
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