Page 50 of Road Trip to the Riviera
‘Whoops!’ I say when he’s near enough to hear me.
To my surprise, he flushes. ‘I’m such an idiot!’
‘Well, yeah. I’ve noticed.’
But he’s not in the mood for jokes. ‘What sort of prat can’t carry a tray across a restaurant?’ He slides into his seat and rests his head on his hands.
‘The sort of prat who overloads the tray and doesn’t want to make two trips?’ I suggest. ‘Or who refuses an offer of help even when things are already starting to fall apart?’
He frowns for a moment. But then his habitual grin breaks through. ‘Yeah, you got me,’ he says. ‘Trying to do it all.’
‘Well,’ I say, giving his hand a squeeze. ‘Maybe we’ve got more in common than we thought.’
Hal and I have touched several times on this trip. I’ve leaned on his arm, or given him a playful slap on his hand when he’s said something daft. Despite the line of pillows he studiously places down the centre of Betty’s double bed each night, our feet have sometimes touched, or we’ve woken to find a stray arm has breached the defence during sleep.
But something about this is different. This deliberate touch. And I feel a shiver of recognition.
Hal’s eyes meet mine and for a moment I wonder if he’s feeling it too. Then, rather abruptly, he snatches his hand back. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Maybe.’
Before I can say anything else, the woman arrives with a fresh tray and we thank her profusely. Then before we can resume any sort of conversation – awkward or otherwise – Hal’s phone rings. He answers and starts saying something aboutcachingand I tune out.
I bite into my baguette which is buttery and freshly baked; it’s a simple ham and cheese, but tastes different from the ones I’d make at home. Emmental instead of cheddar, a stronger-tasting ham. It’s delicious and I feel my stomach growl gratefullyas I swallow the first morsel. Hal ends his call and slips his phone into his pocket.
‘Two hours and we’ll be there,’ Hal says.
‘And tomorrow…’ I begin.
‘The wedding.’
‘I can’t believe it, really. If you’d told me back then, when Louis was a little tot, that he’d be getting married before I would, then I’d have thought it was some sort of cruel joke.’
‘Yet here we are,’ Hal says.
‘Here we are.’
His eyes are filled with something I can’t read.
‘Maybe things just don’t work out that way for some people,’ I say. ‘I mean, we’re not complete failures, right? Both business owners. Both relatively successful in that way.’
He nods. ‘Good parents?’ he suggests.
‘Good enough, at least. Louis is a good kid. We did that. We made him.’
‘Youdid that.’
‘No.Wedid. Both of us.’ And I mean it too. I think back to what he said about Louis saying he was useless and I know that I probably had something to do with that. The times I’ve cursed Hal for not being around; blamed things on him when I was actually just stressed and letting off steam.
I believed it too, I think. Liked Hal enough but also felt angry with him a lot of the time. But being with him now on this trip, I’ve realised how unfair that was. What I did, back in those early days, I did because I had to. Louis would cry and I’d go to him. How could I not?
But Hal hadn’t had that. He’d had a son he could visit whenever he wanted, sure. Only to visit him, he’d had to bypass a disapproving grandmother, and a grandfather who was fiercely protective of his daughter.
It must have been terrifying in lots of ways I hadn’t appreciated until right now.
‘Still hard to believe we haven’t missed the boat,’ I say. ‘Especially me.’
‘Why especially you?’
‘Well, you know. Men your age – you can find someone ten years younger and kind of start from scratch. Me? I’ve got about four fertile years left if I’m lucky, then I’m on the biological scrap heap.’ It’s a joke. But it’s also very much NOT a joke.
