The Family Game(77)
‘It’s fine. We’ll walk you out,’ I tell her.
‘Yes. Yes, please,’ she says, a sigh juddering from her. ‘I need to get back and sort Milo out.’
‘I thought Milo was staying at his dad’s until Boxing Day?’ I ask as we lead her efficiently back the way we came.
‘Yeah, it’s not going well. Milo won’t leave his room. Just screaming for me to come pick him up. They can’t do anything with him. I feel guilty but then, you know, I also don’t. The new girlfriend is a real number.’
Lila clocks my, apparently not so masked, surprise at the judgement.
‘I would never say it around Milo of course,’ she adds, horrified at the thought. ‘Anyway, they want me to come pick Milo up. Now. And they want me to arrange therapy for Milo for next year.’ She shakes her head.
‘Jesus,’ Edward intones. ‘I wish there was something we could do. Do you want to talk to Mother about it – she knows some people in the city?’
Lila looks up, suddenly a little lost. ‘Um, yeah. God maybe they’re right, maybe the whole thing hit him harder than I thought,’ she sighs.
‘I’ll get Mother to pass some names on to Stu for you,’ Edward says gently. Lila cracks a weak smile before nodding.
‘Great. Only thing is now I’ve got a five-hour drive. Stuart should definitely stay here; I do not need him meeting my ex on top of everything else. I’ll pick Milo up, stay overnight at a hotel, and we’ll make it back here for Christmas morning.’
‘I’m so sorry this is happening on Christmas Eve. That you can’t stay and relax,’ I say with sympathy to her, but the truth is I feel like I’m losing an ally here at The Hydes.
‘No, God. I’d cross the country ten times over for my child. Besides, it’ll be fun. Road trip. I just wish I didn’t have to drag him through this kind of thing every holiday. Every birthday. This back-and-forth bullshit,’ she grimaces as she turns from us to head back inside. ‘Sorry, I’m cold and cranky. Thank you for listening.’
Edward and I spend the rest of the morning exploring the grounds before feeding and grooming the horses at the stables. I make peace with not being able to ride, given the pregnancy, and offer up a few handfuls of oats to a gorgeous dun mare instead while Edward fills me in on Matilda’s teenaged equestrian glories.
The estate is a positive menagerie; we cuddle goats, feed chickens, peek into deer shelters, pass hay over paddocks to llamas and all the while I try to piece together the childhood Edward must have had.
Our tour moves on to outbuildings, the majestic glass orangery filled with thick palms and a cosy reading corner. We pass groundskeeper workshops where men who I presume work for the Holbecks potter away with wood and metal. Matilda gave the impression that only two people were working at the house over the holidays, but now I see she must have meant inside the house.
As we head into an overgrown patch of land, Edward directs my gaze into the undergrowth where I can just about make out a well. ‘The house isn’t connected to a mains water source; all our water comes from wells. That one’s ornamental, but you get the idea.’
The low stone well is a perfect circle, moss visible beneath the thin layer of snow. It’s pretty.
I peer over the edge into the dripping darkness beyond and a thought occurs to me. ‘Why wouldn’t you be connected to the mains water?’
‘The wells mean we don’t need to be. Besides, we’re too far from the nearest pipelines anyway. The water companies would need to run new lines out here to reach us,’ he explains.
‘How far are we from the nearest town?’ I ask as I watch flecks of snow sail down and disappear into the murky depths.
‘From town? Twenty minutes in the car. Ten, fifteen miles. Why?’
‘Just curious,’ I say, pulling back from the well’s edge. Ten miles is a long run – over an hour and a half without a break.
He pulls me close, oblivious to my fears, and plants a kiss on my forehead. ‘Shall we head back and get some lunch?’ he asks.
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘Can you just to show me one last thing? Is that okay?’ I ask, my voice sugar sweet. ‘Can you show me the hides?’
The nearest town is ten miles away. If worse comes to worst, I won’t be able to run; I’ll have to hide.
* * *
The structure hangs in the air above us, moss greened and hidden. Its sheer height throws my stomach through loops.
‘Is it safe?’ I ask as Edward wraps his arms tight around me and cranes his neck up, taking in its off-kilter angle.
‘Who knows now,’ he says with a grin. ‘We used to go up all the time as kids and it was fine. But that was a long time ago and we were a lot smaller.’ He gives me a squeeze, then an idea seems to excite him. ‘Why don’t I test it out?’ He takes in my concerned expression then adds, ‘Probably best you stay here.’
I watch him apply pressure to the first few rungs, then, with a hopeful glance back to me, he slowly begins to climb.
I watch, heart in throat, as he rises one moss-slimed rung after another, checking each foothold firmly before trusting it with his weight. At the top he uses a free hand to give the platform above a solid shake. Surprisingly, it doesn’t budge.
‘Seems okay,’ he calls down. He must be at least thirty feet above the forest floor. He lets out a half-laugh, half-grunt as he hauls his weight onto the platform.