The Family Game(43)
I feel a pressure drop within me, my anxiety shifting into a higher gear, as I reluctantly follow in Fiona’s wake, leaving Lila and the safety of the kitchen behind.
‘Are Eleanor and Robert here yet?’ I ask as we go.
Fiona nods with a smile, her eyes playing over me with interest. ‘They are,’ she says, then, seeming to sense something off, she stops, pulling me into a hallway recess beside the sitting room door.
‘How many weeks along are you?’ she whispers conspiratorially.
‘You know?’ I ask, my voice breathier than I expect it to be. ‘Did someone tell you?’
Her eyes hold mine. It’s clear she’s off the family script; she’s the only one who knows. ‘No. I have three children, Harry. The signs kind of burn into your brain,’ she says quietly, her eyes checking the door beyond my shoulder. ‘How far?’ she asks again.
‘Early. Eleven weeks,’ I answer simply. There seems like little reason to deny it.
‘Still too early to tell anyone then,’ she says, before clarifying, ‘No one else in the family knows?’
‘Just me and Edward.’
She looks surprised. ‘Edward knows! And he was okay with you coming tonight?’
I frown. ‘Of course he knows. And why wouldn’t he be okay with me coming to a party?’
Fiona pauses, then gently shakes her head. ‘Oh, no reason, I guess. If he’s okay with it then it’s fine. Just be careful tonight, please. I know it’s just a children’s game, but people can get carried away, you know, in the heat of the moment.’
It’s unclear if she is deliberately trying to scare me or annoy me. The idea that I might somehow get so caught up in a child’s game that I would actually hurt myself is frankly insulting.
I bite back the desire to follow that line of response. She’s just trying to be nice, I assure myself, to offer pregnancy advice, even though with three kids of her own she should know how badly that tends to come across.
‘Noted,’ I say with a smile. ‘I’ll take it easy. What gave me away?’ I add. I should probably stop doing whatever that is if I want to keep this pregnancy quiet for now.
‘Not drinking, of course. But mainly, when you took your shoes off earlier. Edward put his hand on your lower back, to steady you.’ She absentmindedly looks down at the ring on her finger. ‘Oliver does that – did that – during my pregnancies. He’d steady me. It’s an unconscious thing, a protective instinct. Maybe it’s a Holbeck thing or a man thing. But it’s impossible to miss if you know what to look for.’ She shrugs off the thought. ‘Anyway, my lips are sealed. Your secret’s safe with me.’ She gestures towards the sitting room. ‘Shall we?’
* * *
Fiona’s sitting room is filled with people, warmth emanating from a large fireplace that laps and crackles beside two large sofas. Through the milling guests I make out an enormous Christmas tree positioned between the two large sash windows, at its tip a glittering golden star almost skims the paintwork of the brownstone’s high ceiling, its thick branches festooned with red and gold ribbons, twinkling baubles and softly glowing lights.
The gentle babble of polite conversation and unseen music steadies my nerves as my eyes rove the faces for one in particular. It’s only the first week of December but in this room, with its soft flickering candles and heady aroma of fresh spruce, one might imagine that it could be Christmas forever.
My eyes find Edward first, by the fire in conversation with Oliver. They seem intent on something – not a disagreement so much as a debriefing of sorts. I make a mental note to ask Edward about what later. He catches me watching, his serious expression lightening as he raises his glass in my direction.
‘I can introduce you to everybody, if you like?’ Fiona says. I had almost forgotten her beside me. ‘There’s family here you haven’t met yet. Robert’s cousins, their children; the extended family.’ I still can’t see him in the crowd but I can feel he is here. Fiona points out an elderly couple milling by the piano in conversation with the only bi-racial couple present. ‘That’s my side of the family. My parents. And my brother and his wife. Their daughter, Olivia, my niece, is here too somewhere with the boys—’ She breaks off suddenly as a waiter beckons her from across the room. ‘I’ll be right back. Will you be okay alone for a moment?’ I go to speak but she is already gone.
The room is filled with faces I do not recognize and between them waiters weave with food and drink. I pluck a few things as they glide by and as the crowd shifts, I spot him sitting beside Matilda on one of the low chintz sofas, my chest constricting slightly as I prepare for his gaze. I take him in before he notices me; his tall, powerful physicality at odds with the soft domestic setting. I watch Matilda talk to him, their expressions serious, and I can’t help but wonder if there is a problem. If something I do not know about is happening in the Holbecks’ world, if there is an issue with the company, or worse.
Robert must feel eyes on him. He looks up, his gaze magnetically finding mine.
A shiver runs through me as his words from the tape come back to me. Visceral apprehension, and a desperate curiosity to know why he is doing what he is doing to me, fizzling through every fibre of my being.
He looks younger than I recall, from Thanksgiving – stronger, smarter, even more of a credible threat. He tips his head in acknowledgement of my presence and taps Matilda deftly on knee. She stops talking, her eyes following his to me, her energy changing seamlessly, like Edward’s and Oliver’s – a lightness seeming to click on inside her, her features blossoming into a smile. ‘Harry!’ she calls across the room. ‘There you are.’