‘I don’t think Lily wants to complicate either of your lives,’ I said carefully. ‘But I do think she has a right to know her own grandfather.’
‘Of course,’ she said smoothly, that automatic smile in place. I realized, in that instant, that I had failed some internal test, and also that I didn’t care. And then, with a final murmured check of the tray, Della picked it up and, accepting my offer to bring the cake and the teapot, carried it through to the drawing room.
‘And how are you, Louisa?’
Mr Traynor leaned back in his easy chair, a broad smile breaking his saggy features. He had talked to Lily almost constantly throughout tea, asking questions about her mother, where she lived, what she was studying (she didn’t tell him about the problems at school), whether she preferred fruit cake or chocolate (‘Chocolate? Me too!’) or ginger (no), and cricket (not really – ‘Well, we’ll have to do something about that!’). He seemed reassured by her, by her likeness to his son. At that point, he probably wouldn’t have cared if she had announced that her mother was a Brazilian lap-dancer.
I watched him sneaking looks at Lily, when she was talking, studying her in profile, as if perhaps he could see Will there too. Other times I caught a flicker of melancholy in his expression. I suspected that he was thinking what I had thought: this new grief that his son would never know her. Then he would almost visibly pull himself together, forcing himself a little more upright, a ready smile back upon his face.
He had walked her around the grounds for half an hour, exclaiming when they returned that Lily had found her way out of the maze ‘on your first go! It must be a genetic thing.’ Lily had smiled as broadly if she had won a prize.
‘And, Louisa? What is happening in your life?’
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
‘Are you still working as a … carer?’
‘No. I – I went travelling for a bit, and now I’m working at an airport.’
‘Oh! Good! British Airways, I hope?’
I felt my cheeks colour.
‘Management, is it?’
‘I work in a bar. At the airport.’
He hesitated, just a fraction of a second, and nodded firmly. ‘People always need bars. Especially at airports. I always have a double whisky before I get on a plane, don’t I, darling?’
‘Yes, you do,’ replied Della.
‘And I suppose it must be rather interesting watching everyone fly off every day. Exciting.’
‘I have other things in the pipeline.’
‘Of course you do. Good. Good …’
There was a short silence.
‘When is the baby due?’ I said, to shift everybody’s attention away from me.
‘Next month,’ said Della, her hands resting on the swell of her belly. ‘It’s a girl.’
‘How lovely. What are you going to call her?’
They exchanged the glances that parents-to-be do when they have chosen a name but don’t want to tell anyone.
‘Oh … we don’t know.’
‘Feels most odd. To be a father again, at my age. Can’t quite imagine it. You know, changing nappies, that sort of thing.’ He glanced at Della, then added reassuringly, ‘It’s marvellous, though. I’m a very lucky man. We’re both very lucky, aren’t we, Della?’
She smiled at him.
‘I’m sure,’ I said. ‘How’s Georgina?’
Perhaps only I would have noticed how Mr Traynor’s expression changed, just a degree. ‘Oh, she’s fine. Still in Australia, you know.’
‘Right.’
‘She did come over a few months ago … but she spent most of her time with her mother. She was very busy.’
‘Of course.’
‘I think she’s got a boyfriend. I’m sure someone told me she had a boyfriend. So that’s … that’s nice.’
Della’s hand reached across and touched his.
‘Who’s Georgina?’ Lily was eating a biscuit.
‘Will’s younger sister,’ said Mr Traynor, turning to her. ‘Your aunt! Yes! In fact, she looked a little like you when she was your age.’
‘Can I see a picture?’
‘I’ll find you one.’ Mr Traynor rubbed the side of his face. ‘I’m trying to remember where we put that graduation photo.’
‘Your study,’ said Della. ‘Stay there, darling. I’ll get it. Good for me to keep moving.’ She levered herself out of the sofa and walked heavily out of the room. Lily insisted on going with her. ‘I want to see the rest of the photographs. I want to see who I look like.’
Mr Traynor watched them go, still smiling. We sat and sipped our tea in silence. He turned to me. ‘Have you spoken to her yet? … Camilla?’
‘I don’t know where she lives. I was going to ask you for her details. I know Lily wants to meet her, too.’
‘She’s had a difficult time of it. George says so, anyway. We haven’t really spoken. It’s all a bit complicated because of …’ He nodded towards the door and let out an almost imperceptible sigh.
‘Would you like to tell her? About Lily?’
‘Oh, no. Oh … No. I – I’m not sure she’d really want …’ He ran a hand over his brow. ‘Probably better if you do it.’
He copied out the address and phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to me. ‘It’s some distance away,’ he noted, and smiled apologetically. ‘Think she wanted a fresh start. Give her my best, won’t you? It’s odd … to finally have a grandchild, in these circumstances.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Funnily enough, Camilla is the only person who could really understand how I’m feeling right now.’
If he had been anybody else I might have hugged him just then, but we were English and he had once been my boss of sorts, so we simply smiled awkwardly at each other. And possibly wished we were somewhere else.
Mr Traynor straightened in his chair. ‘Still. I’m a lucky man. A new start, at my age. Not sure I really deserve it.’
‘I’m not sure happiness is a matter of what you deserve.’
‘And you? I know you were very fond of Will …’
‘He’s a hard act to follow.’ I was conscious of a lump in my throat. When it cleared, Mr Traynor was still looking at me.
‘My son was all about living, Louisa. I don’t need to tell you that.’
‘That’s the thing, though, isn’t it?’
He waited.
‘He was just better at it than the rest of us.’
‘You’ll get there, Louisa. We all get there. In our ways.’ He touched my elbow, his expression soft.
Della, arriving back in the room, began to load the tray, stacking the cups so ostentatiously that it could only have been a signal.
‘We’d better get going,’ I said to Lily, standing as she came in, holding out the framed photograph.
‘She does look like me, doesn’t she? Do you think our eyes are a bit the same? Do you think she’d want to speak to me? Is she on email?’
‘I’m sure she will,’ said Mr Traynor. ‘But if you don’t mind, Lily, I’ll speak to her myself first. It’s quite big news for us all to digest. Best give her a few days to get used to it.’
‘Of course,’ she said smoothly, that automatic smile in place. I realized, in that instant, that I had failed some internal test, and also that I didn’t care. And then, with a final murmured check of the tray, Della picked it up and, accepting my offer to bring the cake and the teapot, carried it through to the drawing room.
‘And how are you, Louisa?’
Mr Traynor leaned back in his easy chair, a broad smile breaking his saggy features. He had talked to Lily almost constantly throughout tea, asking questions about her mother, where she lived, what she was studying (she didn’t tell him about the problems at school), whether she preferred fruit cake or chocolate (‘Chocolate? Me too!’) or ginger (no), and cricket (not really – ‘Well, we’ll have to do something about that!’). He seemed reassured by her, by her likeness to his son. At that point, he probably wouldn’t have cared if she had announced that her mother was a Brazilian lap-dancer.
I watched him sneaking looks at Lily, when she was talking, studying her in profile, as if perhaps he could see Will there too. Other times I caught a flicker of melancholy in his expression. I suspected that he was thinking what I had thought: this new grief that his son would never know her. Then he would almost visibly pull himself together, forcing himself a little more upright, a ready smile back upon his face.
He had walked her around the grounds for half an hour, exclaiming when they returned that Lily had found her way out of the maze ‘on your first go! It must be a genetic thing.’ Lily had smiled as broadly if she had won a prize.
‘And, Louisa? What is happening in your life?’
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
‘Are you still working as a … carer?’
‘No. I – I went travelling for a bit, and now I’m working at an airport.’
‘Oh! Good! British Airways, I hope?’
I felt my cheeks colour.
‘Management, is it?’
‘I work in a bar. At the airport.’
He hesitated, just a fraction of a second, and nodded firmly. ‘People always need bars. Especially at airports. I always have a double whisky before I get on a plane, don’t I, darling?’
‘Yes, you do,’ replied Della.
‘And I suppose it must be rather interesting watching everyone fly off every day. Exciting.’
‘I have other things in the pipeline.’
‘Of course you do. Good. Good …’
There was a short silence.
‘When is the baby due?’ I said, to shift everybody’s attention away from me.
‘Next month,’ said Della, her hands resting on the swell of her belly. ‘It’s a girl.’
‘How lovely. What are you going to call her?’
They exchanged the glances that parents-to-be do when they have chosen a name but don’t want to tell anyone.
‘Oh … we don’t know.’
‘Feels most odd. To be a father again, at my age. Can’t quite imagine it. You know, changing nappies, that sort of thing.’ He glanced at Della, then added reassuringly, ‘It’s marvellous, though. I’m a very lucky man. We’re both very lucky, aren’t we, Della?’
She smiled at him.
‘I’m sure,’ I said. ‘How’s Georgina?’
Perhaps only I would have noticed how Mr Traynor’s expression changed, just a degree. ‘Oh, she’s fine. Still in Australia, you know.’
‘Right.’
‘She did come over a few months ago … but she spent most of her time with her mother. She was very busy.’
‘Of course.’
‘I think she’s got a boyfriend. I’m sure someone told me she had a boyfriend. So that’s … that’s nice.’
Della’s hand reached across and touched his.
‘Who’s Georgina?’ Lily was eating a biscuit.
‘Will’s younger sister,’ said Mr Traynor, turning to her. ‘Your aunt! Yes! In fact, she looked a little like you when she was your age.’
‘Can I see a picture?’
‘I’ll find you one.’ Mr Traynor rubbed the side of his face. ‘I’m trying to remember where we put that graduation photo.’
‘Your study,’ said Della. ‘Stay there, darling. I’ll get it. Good for me to keep moving.’ She levered herself out of the sofa and walked heavily out of the room. Lily insisted on going with her. ‘I want to see the rest of the photographs. I want to see who I look like.’
Mr Traynor watched them go, still smiling. We sat and sipped our tea in silence. He turned to me. ‘Have you spoken to her yet? … Camilla?’
‘I don’t know where she lives. I was going to ask you for her details. I know Lily wants to meet her, too.’
‘She’s had a difficult time of it. George says so, anyway. We haven’t really spoken. It’s all a bit complicated because of …’ He nodded towards the door and let out an almost imperceptible sigh.
‘Would you like to tell her? About Lily?’
‘Oh, no. Oh … No. I – I’m not sure she’d really want …’ He ran a hand over his brow. ‘Probably better if you do it.’
He copied out the address and phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to me. ‘It’s some distance away,’ he noted, and smiled apologetically. ‘Think she wanted a fresh start. Give her my best, won’t you? It’s odd … to finally have a grandchild, in these circumstances.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Funnily enough, Camilla is the only person who could really understand how I’m feeling right now.’
If he had been anybody else I might have hugged him just then, but we were English and he had once been my boss of sorts, so we simply smiled awkwardly at each other. And possibly wished we were somewhere else.
Mr Traynor straightened in his chair. ‘Still. I’m a lucky man. A new start, at my age. Not sure I really deserve it.’
‘I’m not sure happiness is a matter of what you deserve.’
‘And you? I know you were very fond of Will …’
‘He’s a hard act to follow.’ I was conscious of a lump in my throat. When it cleared, Mr Traynor was still looking at me.
‘My son was all about living, Louisa. I don’t need to tell you that.’
‘That’s the thing, though, isn’t it?’
He waited.
‘He was just better at it than the rest of us.’
‘You’ll get there, Louisa. We all get there. In our ways.’ He touched my elbow, his expression soft.
Della, arriving back in the room, began to load the tray, stacking the cups so ostentatiously that it could only have been a signal.
‘We’d better get going,’ I said to Lily, standing as she came in, holding out the framed photograph.
‘She does look like me, doesn’t she? Do you think our eyes are a bit the same? Do you think she’d want to speak to me? Is she on email?’
‘I’m sure she will,’ said Mr Traynor. ‘But if you don’t mind, Lily, I’ll speak to her myself first. It’s quite big news for us all to digest. Best give her a few days to get used to it.’
