The Family Game(72)

I can’t help the ghost of a smirk flicker across my features. ‘Only two? Wow,’ I say innocently as we turn another corridor. ‘Uh-huh, so I always end up doing more than my fair share of the grunt work over the holidays. Point is, I was holding everyone off for you love birds. I sent tea back to keep it warm. I’ve told them to bring up some more, fresh, now.’ She suddenly stops dead in her tracks in front of a door and I narrowly avoid bumping straight into her.

‘They’re in here,’ she sighs, clearly already too full of Christmas spirit. The dread I’d been managing to push down until now crests inside me at the thought of them all in there. ‘Tea in the sunroom,’ she trills, as she swings the door open.

Walking into the light of the sunroom after the dimness of the halls is blinding as warm winter sun floods through the vast orangery windows. The room is high-ceilinged and airy, giving an immense sense of space. My eyes struggle to adjust as I try to make out their faces in the blazing light, one face in particular more important that the rest. In front of the massive glare of the windows a table is laid with a brilliant white tablecloth, silverware flaring in the light, glasses refracting, the shape and blur of stacked tiers of cakes, savoury fare, petits fours.

‘Welcome to The Hydes,’ Matilda adds with self-aware grandiosity.

The figures at the table rise, in silhouette, as we enter, their shapes beginning to make sense. ‘Harriet, Edward,’ comes a voice I recognize as Eleanor’s. I shield my eyes and she comes into focus. ‘We thought you’d slipped off the face of the earth,’ she quips with a light shake of her chic grey bob. ‘We were expecting you this morning.’

‘We had a little appointment this morning,’ Edward answers, just holding back, and I realize we have to tell them imminently.

Over Eleanor’s shoulder, I notice the view beyond the colossal sunroom windows and it snatches my breath clean away. Beyond the twinkling glass, the full panorama of the Holbecks’ palatial gardens stretches out in all directions, the epic sprawl of it, a god’s-eye view. The ornamental gardens spill with bright bursts of colour set against tight evergreen borders, winter blooms in full flower pouring over crisp paths. Out towards the splashing fountain, a long shallow pool of rippling water carries on past it deep into the lawns. The fountain itself is an elaborate sculpture, water pouring from mouths, claws, eyes and hands, creatures twisting as the sunlight catches and refracts in water.

Past it, the green carpet of lawn rolls out to the edge of the dark forest.

Eleanor follows my gaze. ‘Ah, the grounds. Yes, they’re quite lovely this time of year, aren’t they?’ she says with a modest smile. ‘Tea?’

Edward pulls out my chair and I sit, letting out an audible sigh when I realize Robert is not here.

‘Yes, I’d love some,’ I say, the dread inside me loosened. I watch the rest of the family as they slip back into conversation. Two uniformed maids enter, unacknowledged, with steaming tea in silver pots.

I take in everything, this family in its natural environment, the warm scent of lemon cake, buttery scones, the bubble of conversation, dust particles sparkling in the air and the delicate roll of heat off the top of teacups.

I let my eyes flicker over the Holbecks: Matilda and Eleanor, Stuart and Lila, Oliver and Fiona, Edward and I.

The children aren’t present, and neither is Nunu. Which brings me back full circle to Robert.

‘Is, ah—’ I begin, but my voice catches as eyes find me. I clear my throat. ‘Is Robert joining us?’

I feel Edward’s gaze on me now too, surprised by the question.

Eleanor dabs her mouth with a napkin. ‘Mm, sorry, yes, I should have said. Robert is just tying up a few loose ends,’ she answers, then chuckles, giving her children a solicitous look. ‘Though Robert missing our pre-holiday tea is as much an annual tradition as the tea itself.’

A surge of relief buffets through me. He’s not coming. I might not see him until tonight. Which means I will have time to listen to the rest of the tape.

Edward’s hand slips onto my thigh, making me jolt slightly. His look is enquiring: Why am I asking about his father? Is everything okay?

I shake my head lightly, chasing his question away with a quick smile. But he holds my gaze and I suddenly realize I have misunderstood him. He thinks I want Robert here, so that we can tell everyone about the pregnancy together.

He’s asking if I want to tell them now.

‘Oh, okay,’ I say, hearing the surprise in my own voice.

He gives a decisive nod then takes my hand in his and places both down on the white linen tablecloth pointedly.

Eleanor raises an eyebrow at our clasped hands. ‘I have a feeling something’s coming, Ed,’ she says softly. ‘What’s coming?’

Silence descends around the table, teacups caught halfway to mouths, chewing paused.

I flush as Edward speaks beside me, his words somehow muffled as I feel a flutter in my chest. Palpitations. The obstetrician told me the hormones might do this. No stress, he warned me – no stress and plenty of fluids. I down the cool glass of water in front of me.

Smiling eyes flit between Edward and me.

‘… And this morning we found out that we are having a girl,’ Edward finishes, beaming.

Eleanor’s hand flies to her mouth. ‘Oh, Edward, a little girl,’ she gasps with genuine joy.