‘She didn’t have to go,’ he said to Adam finally.
‘She did,’ said Adam. ‘How can she stay here with that idiot around?’
Marc knew Adam was right but he didn’t know how to fix it. He wanted to leave but he wanted the boys to have their mother here on Christmas Day and if he kicked Simon out then Avian would go too and the boys wouldn’t have their mother for Christmas Day. If he asked Christa to come back he would be exposing her to Simon who was one of the worst men he had ever met – and he grew up in Las Vegas. There was always someone around with his father, making a deal, selling something at the pawn shop, talking up a new opportunity, wearing their flashy clothes and using their smooth patter and his dad was one of the worst of them.
He would sell his grandmother for a deal and he had no doubt Simon would sell Christa out for his own benefit.
‘You know,’ said Adam slowly, as though choosing his words carefully, ‘this is the first time you haven’t asked me to do a background check on a woman you’re interested in.’
Marc laughed a little. ‘I never even thought about it,’ he admitted. ‘I just wanted to get to know her in time, began to look forward to seeing her and getting to hear her opinions or learn about her life.’
There was a knock at the door and then Paul put his head around.
‘Come in,’ said Marc and Paul closed the door behind him.
‘Simon is lying down in bed with a pack of frozen broad beans on his nose.’
‘What the hell are broad beans?’ he asked Adam.
‘The opposite of string beans?’ Adam answered, shrugging.
‘Where are the boys?’ asked Marc. ‘I need to speak to them.’
‘They are in their room, saying they won’t leave and that they are writing a letter to Adam to ask for a divorce from their parents,’ Paul said.
‘Definitely. I can sue said parents also, if the boys want?’ Adam offered but Marc ignored him.
He walked through the corridors of Pudding Hall, decked in boughs of holly and pine, with pinecones and red ribbons. Paul had done a lovely job on the decorations, maybe he could bear the next few days until Christmas and then head back to San Francisco for New Year’s.
He knocked on the door of the boys’ bedroom. They had one each but always ended up together planning grand schemes and whispering into the night.
‘Go away,’ he heard one of them say.
‘Can we talk?’
‘No,’ the boys said in unison.
Marc waited for a moment and then leaned his head against the wall.
‘I’m sorry I said we would leave,’ he said. ‘We can stay until the New Year.’
There was silence for a moment and then whispers that he could hear but not make out.
‘Can Christa come back?’
He closed his eyes. ‘She can’t.’
More furtive whispering was heard and then a note was slipped under the door.
Marc stepped back and picked up the piece of paper.
‘Bite ya bum, Dad.’
He tried not to laugh and he carefully folded the paper and put it in his pocket. He wished Christa was there to see it and he wondered how he could solve this enormous mess three days before Christmas.
29
Christa drove to the only person she really knew in York.
