Coming Home by Fern Britton

Author:Fern Britton [Fern Britton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-01-03T05:00:00+00:00

22

It was the cramp in Henry’s calf that woke him. His face was squashed up against the arm of Granny’s old sofa and he was dribbling on one of Ella’s hand-embroidered cushions. His unsquashed eye felt sore and he rubbed a hand over it. It was gritty with the dried salt of last night’s tears.

It all came back to him. His awful behaviour at the vicarage. Drowning his sorrows. He had cried. He was an idiot.

He tried to stand on his cramped leg and limped painfully to the kitchen. He needed some paracetamol.

He poured a glass of water, necked the painkillers and went back to the sofa.

How was he going to make amends to Ella after he said all those terrible things yesterday?

Ella woke up very chirpy. She had slept well, having made the decision to meet her mother without Henry. What was stopping her? She rolled over and spooned Kit, stroking his tummy to wake him up.

‘Morning, Kit,’ she whispered into his ear.

‘Morning,’ he said guardedly. He wasn’t certain where this was leading.

‘Sorry about last night.’ She nibbled his neck.

‘Okay …’ he replied slowly.

‘I’m going to forget about Henry and see Mum by myself.’

‘Riight.’

‘Would you come with me?’

‘I don’t know. Do you want me to?’

‘Of course. She’s going to be your mother-in-law.’ Ella shifted her weight and sat on top of him.

‘Oof,’ he said, ‘you’re heavy.’

‘Tell me you’ll come to see Mum or I won’t get off you.’

‘Get me a cup of tea and we’ll talk about it.’

She kissed him and jumped off the bed. ‘Thank you.’

‘I haven’t said I will yet.’

‘You will.’

Snuggled back in bed and drinking tea, Ella talked about her childhood. ‘It was good, really. Better than if Mum had been around, probably. She was so young. I can’t imagine what it was like for her. Seventeen and with two children. I sort of don’t blame her for running away.’

Kit, wisely, said nothing. He drank his tea and listened.

‘When Henry and I got chickenpox, he started crying for Mum. I think that’s when I realised I didn’t have one. Granny and Poppa were so good to us, though. They took in all these funny art students and taught them everything they knew about art and pottery. Those students really loved Granny and Poppa. Henry and I would get a bit jealous sometimes.’ She twisted her red curls round her fingers as she talked. Kit watched her.

‘You got your mum’s hair.’

‘I know. That was a shock. Having never seen even a photo of her, I had no idea. Do you think she’s attractive?’

‘Yeah. She’s all right.’

‘I wonder if I will look like her at her age,’ she mused.

‘How old is she?’

‘I’m not sure. About …’ She did some mental arithmetic. ‘I’d say about forty-one or two.’ She stopped. ‘I don’t even know when her birthday is. Or what sign she is.’

‘Weird.’

‘Yeah. She’s missed all my growing up. Henry’s growing up too. She won’t know how well he did at business school or how well he’s doing now. Or about the time he fell off his skateboard and broke my arm.

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