Margaret looked at him wearily. “Do you really want to perpetuate the tragedy?”
“The trouble is, Grandma, if I don’t go, there’ll be no end to it,” he explained, looking anguished.
“I agree with Margaret,” said Antoinette in a quiet voice. “Wouldn’t it be better if we all let him go?”
Margaret straightened in surprise. “Well, I think that’s a first, you and me agreeing on something, Antoinette.” She gave a small smile. The room fell quiet. She raised her voice. “Antoinette and I are in agreement that we should all move on now and let George rest in peace.” Antoinette almost strained the muscles in her face as she struggled to hold back her tears. The thought of letting George go was dreadful.
“It’s the only way I’ll find peace,” David persisted. Then his gaze fell upon Phaedra. “As you’re our sister, would you like to come as well?”
Phaedra looked embarrassed. “Me? Are you sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” David asked. “You have as much right as the rest of us. He was your father, too.”
She lowered her eyes. “If you’re certain I wouldn’t be intrusive, I’d really like to come.”
“I can’t imagine how you’d be intrusive, Phaedra,” Margaret cut in, as Harris returned with her glass of sherry. “The boys will be jolly lucky to have you. Though I don’t think much of their plan.”
“Then that’s settled,” said Tom happily, holding his wineglass out to Harris for a refill. “Josh, are you in? Roberta?” It was clear from his tone of voice that he very much hoped they would decline. Antoinette very much hoped Harris wouldn’t top up his glass.
“I’ve got a lot on next week,” Joshua replied. “I couldn’t possibly drop everything, and Roberta’s the same, aren’t you, darling?”
“Yes, my diary is very full, I’m afraid,” Roberta confirmed. “People book one months in advance.”
“Then that’s settled. I wonder what the snow conditions are. Shall I check on the Internet? Wouldn’t it be great if it’s just dumped a whole heap of snow?” Tom pulled his iPhone out of his breast pocket.
“After lunch, Tom,” said Antoinette, noticing Harris nodding in the doorway. “Let’s go through.”
Tom jumped to his feet, still holding his replenished glass of wine. “What’s for lunch?”
“Leg of lamb,” Harris replied solemnly.
“Great, my favorite. I hope Mrs. Gunice has made enough Yorkshire puddings. I’m as hungry as a horse.” And he was the first to make his way across the hall to the dining room.
Lunch was a surprisingly jolly affair. Margaret had recovered from her turn the day before and seemed enlivened by her morning with Phaedra. Her cheeks were flushed with sherry and the pleasure of listening to Phaedra’s funny imitations of her schoolteachers. The girl certainly knew how to turn unpleasant situations into entertaining anecdotes. This inspired the boys to recount their own schooldays, recalling tutors with halitosis, and nights stealing into the grub cupboard. Even Roberta joined in and laughed at their stories. In that rare moment of family harmony Antoinette truly believed that everything would be all right.
After lunch Antoinette asked Phaedra to accompany her up to George’s bedroom. “I haven’t had the courage to go in, until now. I think I’ll cope better going through all his things if we do it together,” she explained.
Phaedra immediately felt nervous. “You don’t think it’s something you should do by yourself, or with your boys? I mean, you need time to remember him without having to worry about someone else.”
“No, I want you to be there. I need the moral support.”
Phaedra smiled weakly. “Well, if you insist.”
Antoinette looked at her with motherly affection. “I know you’re a little afraid, too. It’s okay. We’ll do it together.” Phaedra took a deep breath and followed her up the stairs. “George kept everything. He never liked to chuck anything away. I’m a real chucker. I hate mess and accumulated nonsense. But George has drawers of sentimental things he’s kept over the years. I simply can’t go through it all on my own. Half of me wants to take a great big bin liner and throw it all away so I don’t have to look at it, but the other half worries that I might miss something important. The truth is, I can’t really believe he’s not coming back. Going through his things is so final, like accepting he’s gone. I don’t feel ready to do that.”
“Then leave it, Antoinette, until you feel stronger.”