The Things I Know(68)
‘Of course! Emery’s not home yet. He had to go down to Exeter to pick up some parts, so he’s missing supper, I think. It’ll be lovely to have you at our table. It’s nice to see you, Mr Potts.’
‘Grayson,’ he offered.
‘Yes. Grayson.’
Thomasina liked the way her mum looked at him; this boded very well. ‘We’ll have a cup of tea if you’re making, Mum!’ she called as her mother made to leave the room.
‘Cheek of it!’ her mum called over her shoulder. ‘And a biscuit too?’
‘Go on then!’ Thomasina smiled and curled her feet up on to the sofa against Grayson’s thigh. The fire now raged and the warm heat filled the room, tinting everything with an attractive orange glow.
‘You’re lucky, you know.’ He watched her mum leave the room.
‘I know, but it’s not perfect living here. You heard how she was panicking just because I was out of sight for a bit. It can be suffocating sometimes.’
‘I know how that feels.’ He held her hand again. ‘We’re like two peas who have found their way back to their pod.’
She laughed, understanding exactly what he meant and liking the analogy.
‘I love you, Thomasina.’
His words were unexpected, although no less welcome for that. With a lump in her throat, she twisted to face him on the sofa. ‘You . . . you love me?’ she asked shyly.
‘I do. I really do. I have never felt it before but it’s kind of how I imagined it would feel.’
‘How does it feel?’ she whispered, barely able to suppress the whoop of joy that sat in her chest.
‘As if . . . as if I’m full up on something better than food or drink, something you could never have too much of, and as if I have nothing to feel scared of because nothing scares me if I know I can be with you. You make everything feel okay for me. It’s as if nothing else matters.’
‘I know. As though nothing else matters.’
‘You make me so happy!’ he grinned.
‘Me too.’ She could only agree. ‘You make me so very happy too.’
Thomasina exchanged a look with Grayson across the kitchen table. He looked a little grey, his top lip clammy; he was nervous. She crinkled her eyes at him and hoped he felt the support she mentally set sail across the red-and-white gingham tablecloth. His new admission of love was still fresh and bloomed like something warm and beautiful in her chest. She watched as he lifted his hand to sip at the glass of water in front of him before looking back down into his lap. She noticed for the first time the extraordinary length of his eyelashes. They were lovely. A reminder that it was early in their relationship and that she was still learning him piece by piece. His awkwardness, she knew, was partly due to the fact that this was the first time he had sat at the family table in the kitchen and not as a guest on the other side of the door. She also knew it was rare for him to sit and eat with other people, picturing the forlorn single setting at the small table behind his mother’s chair where he tucked a red linen napkin into his collar. Her own mum now carved the leg of lamb she had pulled from the oven and lay soft, juicy slices on to the warmed plates with extra-crispy roast potatoes, rosemary-roasted carrots and a whole ladleful of glossy red-wine sauce. She had obviously decided to treat them and put Thomasina’s shepherd’s pie in the freezer for another day.
‘Here you go, love.’ Her mum placed the plate in front of Grayson.
‘This looks . . . amazing! Thank you very much.’
She saw the genuine look of delight in his eyes and shuddered at the thought of his poached haddock, curling forlornly under tinfoil.
‘So, Grayson, you work in a bank then?’
‘In a way.’ He made eye contact with her dad and her heart pulsed at how badly she knew he wanted to make a good impression. ‘It’s a broker’s, really, but in banking, yes. It’s not that interesting.’ He reached for his water glass.
‘Funny, isn’t it, that no matter what your job, what someone else does always seems interesting. I mean, I can’t think anyone would be interested in taking soil samples or testing milk or mucking out, but there we go,’ her dad said with a chuckle, reaching to take his plate of food from his wife’s outstretched hands. ‘Ooh, look at that! Thank you, my darlin’. This looks wonderful.’
She saw how Grayson watched the interaction between her mum and dad with something close to fascination, and wondered if he, like her, was thinking of the times when his parents had danced in the little space in the flat, in a time when they seemed happy . . .
‘And no brothers or sisters?’ her mum asked, lifting her cutlery to signal that the feast could now begin.
Grayson shook his head. ‘Just me.’
‘You’d love our Jonathan.’ Her dad nodded in his direction as he forked a spud into his mouth. ‘He’s a lovely lad! In America, no less, working with a friend he made at college. He has a degree in agriculture and farming, our clever boy.’
Thomasina was glad they were chatting but wondered, as she sometimes did, just how different her life might have been if her parents had not decided so early on that there would be no certificate of learning for her. It was part of her awakening, her growing confidence, that, along with this consideration, came the flicker of frustration in her gut: Why not me?