House of Windows (28 page)

The day had gone as well as could be expected. Bill had turned up the previous evening, announcing just a shade too nonchalantly that he was staying over. He’d taken Nick to visit Professor Gosswin in the morning, then out to Audley End House for lunch. Tim and Ange were waiting for them with a feast of cookies and cake when they arrived back.

Before Ange left, she fetched a brightly wrapped package from her coat. ‘It’s a bobble hat ’cos Tim said you needed one and it’s got a happy face on it because today is sucky but other days won’t be.’

Nick was smiling when he came back from letting her out, and then the phone rang. Tim reached to pick it up but Nick shook his head. ‘It’ll be Dad. Let it go on the machine.’

Bill turned away as the speakerphone clicked on.

‘Hi, Nick. Just Dad. I’m sorry I’m not there for your mum’s … anniversary, but I’m thinking of you. Bill said he might pop down, so hope you’re having a nice time together. Guess I’ll try you later if I can get away. Bye.’

‘Well, that was awkward,’ Tim said into the stinging silence.

Nick made an attempt to laugh. ‘Shall we order a curry? Figure it’s the least Dad owes me for bunking off out of the country just so he wouldn’t have to be here today.’

‘Hey, the man gets points for the quality of the bunk. Australia. Literally the other side of the world.’

‘Oh, and the world’s most pathetic explanation. “You don’t really mind about the day itself, do you, since it’s not like it’s something to celebrate?”’ Nick said.

‘Well at least you’re looking on the funny side,’ Bill said, regretting the words the moment they were out of his mouth.

Behind Nick’s back, Tim made a gesture like putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger.

The rest of the afternoon passed in near silence. A heated debate about what to order for dinner was a welcome interlude, but when the food came Nick fixed his eyes on his plate, stirring patterns in the rice rather than eating it. When Bill sighed for what had to be the tenth time in as many minutes, Tim had to consciously resist the urge to echo him.

‘How about some dessert?’ asked Bill with so much false cheer Tim felt embarrassed for him. ‘I bought chocolate cheesecake.’

Nick set his cutlery neatly down on his plate. ‘Thanks, Bill, but I don’t think I’m up for it right now. Maybe later?’

Tim collected up the dirty plates, poking Nick in the stomach as he passed, receiving an indignant ‘Hey! What was that for?’

‘Because I can,’ Tim replied, grinning, though the honest answer would have been ‘Because that’s the first time you’ve shown any life all day.’

‘Going to put salt in your coffee,’ Nick muttered darkly.

‘Heard that. You try it, I’ll put vinegar in yours.’

‘Bully,’ Nick muttered sulkily, though the expression on his face said otherwise. ‘Bill?’ He shot his godfather a significant look, then flicked his eyes in Tim’s direction before disappearing into the next room.

Tim raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Nick’s subtlety overwhelms me. What do we need to discuss?’

‘Just plans for Christmas,’ said Bill as he set to with the washing up. ‘Nick’s got a bee in his bonnet about it this year. Said he wanted me to ask you nice and early.’

Tim groaned. ‘It’s not Nick. It’s Ange. She’s put some stupid idea in Nick’s head—’

‘Actually, I think he’s got his own ideas. Something about “taking Professor Gosswin’s advice”, though he wasn’t very specific on what that advice involved. Anyway, it’s my year to host so—’

‘No worries. I’ll watch the house,’ Tim said, grateful that the fridge door hid the expression on his face as he pushed the leftovers on to an empty shelf.

‘Actually, I was hoping you’d come with us. Nick has this whole series of plans worked out: walks in the woods, films to watch, things to attempt to cook.’

‘That’s really kind of you, Bill—’

‘Lord, Tim. Please don’t make this one of
those
conversations. I have enough of them with Nick. Could we just bypass “you don’t have to” and “it’s really not necessary” and skip to the part where you accept gracefully?’

‘Nick shouldn’t have bothered you,’ Tim said stiffly, annoyance warring with affection in his tone.

‘Nick wants to spend Christmas with his family. Now, as far as I can see, that consists of you, me on a good day, Professor Gosswin – not that she’s coming, of course – and Michael, when he turns up. Unless you’ve got a better offer, I’d really appreciate it if you could come along. I can’t promise excitement but my sister’s doing half the cooking so you won’t get poisoned and Nick’ll be good company. You don’t seem to mind me turning up practically every other day, so I figure—’

‘Well, are you coming?’ Nick asked, leaning in the doorway.

Looking down into his hopeful, upturned face, Tim smiled. He gave Bill a small nod. ‘Yeah. Thanks, Bill. That would be great.’

‘Does it ever snow? If it snows can we get a sledge? There’s that big hill behind your house, that would be
awesome
—’

‘Let’s not pin too many hopes on the British weather, Nick,’ said Bill. ‘Why don’t we cut up the cheesecake and see if we get tempted?’

As Tim passed to fetch the plates, he met Bill’s eyes with a shy smile and inclined his head very slightly.

Bill smiled back. ‘So what’s on the box?’

‘Not TV,’ Nick groaned. ‘Trivial Pursuit?’

‘If we have to,’ Tim said. ‘Lead on—’

‘You know the line’s actually “lay on”, right, in
Macbeth
?’

‘Can you at least wait till we start playing for the torrent of useless facts?’

‘They’re not useless. They’re
perfect
for driving you up the wall.’

‘Maybe I’ll just umpire,’ groaned Bill, sinking into an armchair. ‘Have you thought about trying out for
University Challenge
next year, Nick?’

Nick stared at him. ‘No. But I am now.’ He fixed his eyes on Tim.

‘No,’ Tim said.

‘How about a bet?’ Nick asked, grinning. ‘Unless you beat me at least twenty-five per cent of the time, you have to try out too.’

‘No,’ said Tim.

‘Ange’ll make you,’ said Nick.

The game – and rematch and re-rematch – passed the time. Neither Tim nor Bill commented on the fact that Nick’s eyes kept drifting to the clock, or the way he looked almost relieved when the minute hand crept up to ten.

‘Hope you don’t mind if I go to bed a bit early,’ Nick said rather too brightly.

Bill sighed as Nick carried his uneaten cake into the
kitchen, clingfilmed the plate and slid it into the fridge, then hurried upstairs with a soft ‘Night’ tossed over his shoulder.

Tim watched Bill head up after him, looking older and wearier than he’d ever seen him. He listened to them moving about, waited for the click of Bill’s door, waited a further ten minutes, then crept upstairs to sit at the bottom of the steps to Nick’s level. Five minutes later, a soft glow illuminated the staircase from above.

Nick started when Tim padded into his room. In a moment his face went from strained and hollow-eyed to blank. ‘What’s up?’ he asked, filling the words with icy politeness.

Tim shrugged. ‘Just thought I’d come and sit with you for a while, since you’re still awake.’ He leaned forward and clicked off the bedside light. ‘Stop reading for a bit, Nick. I know Gosswin’s book is your favourite, but you’ve read it a million times. Just take a minute and look at the sky. You’ve got such a great view from here. Pity to ignore it.’

He fixed his eyes on stars and waited as Nick’s glare practically wrote the words ‘Go away’ in the air between them.

Finally Nick turned his own gaze to the window with a soft sigh. ‘What do you do, Tim, on the anniversary of your parents’ … on the anniversary?’

He sounded young, Tim thought. Young and unwilling, or unable, to stop himself from asking. Tim sighed. ‘The first year was the worst. My sister had a scholarship to Yale, so we sold the house and then she went off to America and
I came here.’ He tried not to think about that last night, curled up together in sleeping bags on the living-room floor, the remains of their previous life boxed up around them. ‘She dropped me at College and went straight to the airport, while
I
went and bought myself a bottle of something cheap and nasty and gave myself the worst hangover of my life.’ He shook his head. ‘Stupid, isn’t it, how one day’s so important? They’re not any less dead every other day of the year.’

‘But you don’t let yourself think about them the other days,’ Nick said.

‘Don’t let myself wallow and be pathetically sorry for myself, you mean?’ The words came out sharper than he’d intended: full of self-loathing. ‘Anyway, now I spend the day with Ange, then have a few drinks once I’m alone. I love Ange but she always tries to get me to
talk
and I just want …’ He broke off with a sigh.

‘Someone to watch the sky with,’ Nick finished for him. ‘What day is it? Your anniversary?’

Tim felt his hands curling into fists at his sides. He had to grit his teeth not to snap that just because he was trying to offer a little sympathy, it didn’t mean he wanted Nick intruding on the very worst day in his year.

‘Fifteenth of August,’ he heard himself say, hoping his tone made it quite clear that the last thing he would want on that day was Nick’s company.

‘OK,’ said Nick. ‘Maybe if it’s warm we can sit in the garden.’

As the moon emerged into a clear patch of sky, Tim could
make out a smile on Nick’s face before the room faded into darkness again.

And he thought of Ange and what she’d said about love being a two-way street. Maybe it would be OK if Nick kept him company on the fifteenth after all.

‘Did you like living with your mum?’ Tim asked before the moment could pass.

A rustle in the darkness as Nick shifted. ‘I wanted to. At the beginning. I didn’t really know my dad. I mean, he’s always been like this: working like there’s no tomorrow.’

‘It must have been weird going to the wedding when she remarried,’ Tim said clumsily. ‘You never mention him – your stepfather. What was he like?’ It felt like a mistake, the moment he heard the words in the air. He found his fingers crossing reflexively by his leg, as if hoping against hope that he hadn’t just ruined the chance that Nick would talk to him. And all because he’d decided that he could do a better job than Bill: get further before Nick shut him out. ‘Hey, you still awake?’

‘He hated me.’ Nick’s eyes glittered fitfully in the darkness as the light brightened, dimmed, brightened.

‘It must have been tough with your mum being ill, but I’m sure he didn’t
hate
you, Nick.’

Nick made an indecipherable noise.

‘Your mum can’t have thought that.’

‘My mother didn’t want to think,’ Nick bit out. ‘Not about things that didn’t suit her. And of course no one was allowed to do anything to upset
her
,’ he said, the words
coming out fast and loud. ‘It was pathetic really, he only—’ He cut himself off with a hiss of breath, crossing his arms over his chest. Tim felt as much as saw him shake his head. ‘I’m not having this conversation. It’s none of your business anyway.’

Tim let his head drop back against the wall as Nick pushed himself up from the bed and hurried across the room only to stop, outlined at the top of the stairwell.

‘What the
fuck
are you doing there?’

‘I heard a noise,’ came Bill’s voice from below.

‘So you decided to come and eavesdrop? I bet it was your idea in the first place for Tim to come and talk to me. My dad’s palmed enough trouble off on him already—’

‘Hey, I’m no one’s errand boy,’ protested Tim, standing up. ‘I was worried about you.’

‘Of
course
you were,’ Nick sneered.

‘That’s uncalled for,’ Bill said firmly, coming up the steps so that Nick had to back away across the room. ‘Now let’s just take a deep breath and we can talk—’

‘I don’t want to hear it, Bill!’ Nick turned away from the stairs, slapping the flat of his hand once, hard, against the slope of the ceiling, then letting it rest there, his forehead braced against his wrist. ‘I don’t want to hear anything you’ve got to say. I just want you both to leave me alone.’

‘Nick, you know that you and Roger not getting along is not what made your mother ill, don’t you?’ Bill asked, coming up the last few steps into the room.

‘Just go away!’ Nick shouted, stalking into the corner,
his back to them. ‘Just leave me alone! Today’s bad enough without you trying to … to …’

‘We need to finish that conversation we had in the car, Nick. You can’t grieve in silence.’

‘Because I’m bound to feel
so
much better if I tell you how awful it was not to get to say goodbye?’ Nick’s tone was hard, mocking.

‘Wasn’t it, Nick? Wasn’t it awful and unfair and unnecessary?’

Nick shrugged carelessly. ‘And the way she treated me for the rest of her life wasn’t? At least now there’s a good reason I don’t get to see or talk to her, right? At least now she’s not choosing to have nothing to do with me.’

‘Nick—’

‘“It is what it is”: isn’t that what they say?’

‘Then why do you talk about this fish tank instead of her?’

Nick stiffened, turning away again, his back rigid.

‘Why that, out of everything?’

Nick pressed his fingers into his eyes, then smoothed his hands down his cheeks. ‘I don’t know why I dream about the fish instead of her. I didn’t even
like
the fish.’ He made a noise like a laugh, heard it turn into something else. ‘It’s just … small enough to think about. It’s the only part of it that is. But that makes it all sound like some big mystery and the only reason it’s important is that it was the last time I saw her.’ He looked away to the window, took an uneven breath. ‘Roger and I were fighting. We were fighting and Mum came in and …’ He closed his eyes, stuttered in a
breath. ‘It was an accident when he hit her. It was just an accident. He didn’t even realise she was there. I grabbed for her arm, only I caught the lamp and it fell and the fish tank broke and she started screaming. Screaming and screaming and screaming—’

He stopped, bracing a shaking hand against the low slanting ceiling.