‘She did not!?’ Marc half teased. He knew Paul was passionate about his work and Pudding Hall was showing his skills off in all their glory.
‘She did and when I told her it was me or the pine cones she went and complained to Adam because you wouldn’t talk to her.’
‘She scares me,’ said Marc.
Christa burst out laughing. ‘You two are out of control.’
As she spoke Peggy walked back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
‘I noticed the quails were gone. Did you use them, Cook?’
Marc noticed Christa’s shoulders stiffen and her head raise. ‘Yes, I made a stock for soup.’
‘And you used the quail for soup – all of it? It must have been a large quantity of soup. Is there nothing in the freezer?’
Peggy opened the freezer and peered inside the shelves and opened the drawers.
‘No leftovers?’ She stood with her hands on her hips and stared at Christa. ‘And I had a ham hock for you. Do anything special with that?’
Marc watched Christa’s neck and face flush.
‘We had the soup, it was lovely,’ he jumped in. ‘I think we should leave the ordering to Christa now. She is a chef after all – she knows what she’s doing. One less thing for you to worry about, Peggy.’
Peggy snorted and he stopped himself from making a joke as he knew better than to antagonise an angry sow.
Christa’s back was turned from him but he could feel her tension. Was there something happening with her and the food? Was food missing? He thought he remembered her saying something about excess food but he couldn’t remember what exactly.
‘Dad, make a monkey,’ said Seth, interrupting his thoughts.
‘A monkey? The only monkeys here are you and your brother.’ He saw Christa looking at him now, her face unreadable but pink from the warmth of the oven.
He smiled at her, trying to convey that he didn’t mind about quails and ham hocks and whatever else she was worrying about but a shadow had crossed her face. He would try and talk to her after dinner, he thought, as he made little monkeys for the boys.
Then they would sort everything out and Christa would smile again.
*
But after dinner he had a call from his team in New York and by the time he went back to the kitchen, it was clean and Christa’s car was driving away.
She had been quiet during dinner, eating with them but sitting with the boys and not drinking any wine or making much small talk. She avoided his looks and picked at her lovely dinner of rack of lamb and baby potatoes and salad. How something so simple could taste so magnificent was beyond him.
And then she was gone. Marc thought quickly, grabbing his coat and his keys. He headed out to his car and started it, turning it to follow Christa but with the lights low so as not to alert her to his presence.
Where did she go on these nights? He couldn’t begrudge her a social life, because she would have sat around at night like Paul did, complaining about Adam’s workaholism while Adam ignored him or occasionally patted his leg.
He was selfish to bring Adam here for Christmas, he thought. He should be with Paul and with their family.
Why was he so selfish and not thinking about other people’s plans?
He rang Adam from the car.
‘Where are you?’ Adam asked.
‘I’m heading into York for a bit. Can you keep an eye on the boys? Sorry to ask but something’s come up.’
‘Sure, Paul is with them anyway. They’re watchingHairspray. It’s his favourite film.’
Adam paused. ‘I need to ask you something.’
