I understood what she meant. The last couple of times we had visited him he was more emotional, prone to fits of laughter or bouts of tears. He would grin or shake his head if either of us addressed him with a question he considered too problematical. He still erratically recognised both of us, though sometimes he would talk as if we were his siblings or friends from his youth. All this was normal, Dr Pearce had assured us, a typical pattern of decline.
“I think he may actually be happier,” Tanya said.
“You might be right,” I admitted. “He’s lost his suit of mental armour. It’s made him lighter on his feet.”
The lights changed and we drove on. We were returning from a lunch in Kingston to celebrate Geoff’s eldest children’s birthdays. They fell within a week of one another, and it was an opportunity to get together. We had made it an afternoon gathering in a child-friendly restaurant close to where Geoff lived. His wife, Candida, was a solicitor. They had known one another since childhood and had married the year after Tanya and I wed. Three children, all under seven: James, Charlotte, and Robin. We were godparents to Charlie, as she liked to be called, and frequent visitors to one another’s houses. Geoff had always remained one of our closest friends. They had both been immensely supportive in the difficult aftermath of my accident. For a while everyone was worried that I might have suffered some permanent form of brain damage.
“Hang a left,” Tanya said.
I managed to indicate and turn at the last moment.
“Sorry,” I told her. “Daydreaming.”
“As long as that’s all it was.”
Her tone was gently questioning. She liked to check that I wasn’t off with the fairies, by which she meant back in Owain’s world.
“Honest, guv,” I assured her. “It’s not on my vacation list any more.”
We didn’t talk about it much these days. It was over, done with. Everyone there was dead, the entire world extinguished for all I knew. I had flashed from the final explosion to find myself already back in the house that I finally knew was my home. The same house which we were now approaching.
“I gather Rachel nearly thumped Adrian,” Tanya remarked.
They had also been at the party, Rachel a week overdue and desperate for a distraction. She had taken umbrage when Adrian was overtly attentive to one of the waitresses.
“She dumped a trifle in his lap,” I told her.
“Really?”
Tanya hadn’t seen it because she had taken the children into the garden when their party packs proved to contain plastic recorders that were much more fun when their mouthpieces were removed so that they could be used as blowpipes for raisins.
“You didn’t hear Rees laughing, telling him she’d creamed his jeans? He had jelly coming out of his nose. Keisha had to stop him colouring in all the pictures in the children’s party packs. It was like a pantomime.”
“Serves him right. He’s a bloody fool sometimes.”
She meant Adrian. “He wants the baby.”
“And what about Rachel?”
Both Tanya and Keisha had been very touchy-feely with her, gently kneading her bulge, delighting in any hint of movement.
I had no answer for this, though I hoped as she did that there would be a happy ending. Adrian was gung-ho for the new series, and it was as much as I could do to restrain him. At present I was only going into the studios two days a week and spending the rest of the time ostensibly doing background research at home. This actually comprised a little internet surfing and a slow progression through my father’s entire corpus. I had decided it was time I thoroughly acquainted myself with his achievements while he was still with us.
I parked the car in the driveway. A gusty wind assailed us as we climbed out, the daffodils in the flowerbeds swaying. Tanya remarked that while jelly was always a staple at children’s parties she knew no actual child who ever ate it.
“Rees,” I said. “He had at least two helpings. Inhaled most of it, I think.”
“He looked like he was enjoying himself.”
“In his element. We want to use him again when the new series gets up and running. I hope Keisha sticks with it.”
“Fingers crossed.”
Tanya unlocked the front door. Moments later the Scenic arrived. Geoff helped Sarah and Beth out of the back. The girls had insisted on travelling with Geoff and Candida’s three.
“I’ll get the kettle on,” Tanya said to Geoff.
“I think we’re going to pass on tea,” he replied. “We need to get our lot home. They’re all high on sugar and E numbers.”
James had his face pressed to the window, making disgusting faces at the girls, who were reciprocating. Candida sat calmly in the driver’s seat, a benevolent smile on her face, serenely tolerant. She and Geoff had looked after Sarah and Beth when I came out of hospital. Tanya had even arranged a temporary placement in a local school while I was recuperating. My behaviour had been too disturbing for them—particularly after my display in the park, when I had simultaneously been raving while failing to recognise them as my own.
