Page 95 of All We Want for Christmas
‘Hello,’ Imogen said, with polite indifference. Understandably she had other concerns than socialising with a strange woman. She turned her attention immediately to Flynn, who’d hobbled into the doorway, and smiled at him. ‘You look knackered.’
‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ Flynn muttered.
Molly beamed and carried Esme forwards to meet him. ‘Hello, Dad! Hope it’s OK but we thought we’d surprise you.’
Dad. Lara would never get used to hearing Molly say that to Flynn, who looked torn between happiness and awkwardness. He struck her as a stranger blundering through a strange landscape, unsure if he loved it or was petrified. She was an observer, wanting to jump in and help him but unsure if she should or let him work out his path by himself.
‘That’s a lovely thought,’ Flynn said.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Imogen said, and marched through to the kitchen.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Lara said, feeling completely superfluous.
‘Thank you,’ Flynn said, ‘for everything.’
Lara smiled, wondering what he’d been about to say when they’d been interrupted – and if she’d get another chance to find out.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Flynn sank back against the sofa, feeling as if someone had pulled a plug out of his body and drained his last reserves of energy. He wasn’t used to feeling exhausted and not wanting to get up off the sofa, and he hated it.
He was grateful for the concern of his family – old and new – but the past couple of hours had literally floored him.
The cottage wasn’t big enough for three people, let alone six, and when his parents had arrived while Molly, Imogen and Esme were still there, the conflicting emotions and agendas had totally overwhelmed the space and Flynn himself.
Esme had been wailing because she was teething and tired – Flynn knew how she felt. Molly had chattered away nervously, wanting everyone to get along, while Imogen had been sullen, and his own mother had barely been able to be polite. His father had tried to be jolly and ended up making awkward jokes that only served to make a tense situation worse.
As for Lara, she’d rushed off, clearly feeling out of place and eager to escape the whole desperate situation. Flynn didn’t blame her but he was eaten up with frustration.
There was so much he wanted to say to her. To tell her the person he’d longed to see at his bedside was her. He’d beenon the verge of saying how much he felt for her when Molly and the others had descended.
How could he tell her that, while he’d lain there, he’d wanted her to hold him? Maybe that was for the best. It wouldn’t be fair to Lara when he couldn’t give her the commitment she truly deserved and that he wanted to give.
Now that he’d experienced the whole of his family, old and new, descending on him, he was even more aware of how much he’d taken on and how he could not expect her to deal with that. He was also pretty helpless at the moment, which made him feel even more vulnerable.
He closed his eyes and tried not to think of how much his knee – and his head – ached. He picked up the bottle of painkillers by his side, tossed some down with a sip from a bottle of water, and lay back against the cushion.
The following morning brought a solution to one of his problems at least. Lara had arranged for his parents to move to a vacant holiday cottage the previous evening, which gave everyone some space. His pills had worked, the pain was easing, and while he wouldn’t be carrying his toolkit up the tower stairs anytime soon, he was able to hobble around the cottage on his own.
The previous day, Fiona and Henry had thoughtfully messaged him, suggesting he might like to rest and settle in before they visited him. Flynn had gratefully accepted the offer. He managed a shave and a wash on his own and his parents took a stroll around the estate while he saw the Penhaligons.
They arrived bearing a basket of treats, which Fiona described as ‘Just a few home comforts – cake, biscuits, tea and coffee you can all share.’
‘You’ve used up one of your lives there,’ Henry said, sitting down opposite him.
‘I must admit I’ve had a few close shaves, but that was probably the closest,’ Flynn admitted.
‘I once came off, you know. I was riding an old Triumph over the fells from Coniston and hit a patch of gravel on the moor road. Didn’t have the high-tech lids you lot wear today. Was knocked unconscious. Wonder I wasn’t a goner.’
Fiona let out a squeak of horror. ‘Henry, that’s enough. That’s the last thing Flynn needs to hear. Ignore him.’
Henry looked chastened, but said, ‘I’ll tell you all about it some time. You still haven’t seen my bike collection, have you? You can borrow one of them until you get your new wheels.’
Fiona gazed heavenwards. ‘I despair. But someone was definitely looking out for you that night, Flynn.’
‘I was extremely lucky,’ he admitted, the moment flashing back to him again as it had several times. Not that he’d admit it to anyone. He also remembered the dream in which the important people in his life had flashed before his eyes. Lara had been one of them – the last one he remembered, in fact.
He also, out of the blue, thought of the chalice. For a moment or two, when he was half in and out of awareness in the hospital, he’d wondered if the breakage had anything to do with his bad luck in meeting the deer.
