On the train to Norwich, Jack glanced at his phone as he heard it beep. He read the message, his face screwing up in bafflement.
‘Dad says there’ll be four of us for lunch.’
‘Who’s the fourth?’ Zoe flicked through a magazine and sipped her paper cup of coffee. And they said the age of luxury train travel was dead.
‘He doesn’t say. Captain fucking Mystery. Can I have a sip, please?’
‘Of course. I got a large with extra whipped cream to give us energy for the day ahead.’
‘Ooh, you’re good. Thank god for you.’ Jack pulled off the lid and took a big glug.
‘Who could it be? A friend? A relative?’
‘He doesn’t have any friends, at least none that he’d invite to lunch with his son and his son’s girlfriend. Sorry, fiancée.’ Jack chuckled. ‘I still love that. It makes me feel really old school.’
‘You sure he wouldn’t be planning any kind of engagement celebration?’
Jack pulled an incredulous face. ‘He might, but then I’d be asking what that man had done with my real father. That kind of thing was always Mum’s job. I don’t think Dad would even know how to go about planning a party. Anyway, he did say it’s only one extra person. Oh my god, but can you imagine though, if we turn up at this gastropub and Dad’s filled a room with all his masonic drinking buddies?’
‘Is your dad in the Masons?’
Jack laughed. ‘No!’ Then he looked thoughtful. ‘Would he be allowed to tell us, even if he was?’
‘I think you’re thinking of Fight Club.’
‘Maybe. No, it’s just some Rotary organisation or something – middle-aged men drinking in pubs with the excuse that they’re planning the same charity event they’ve done for the last two decades, that kind of thing. Grainy photos of them holding up three-digit cheques for a cancer charity to pad out the local paper.’
‘Someone’s very needlessly cynical this morning.’
‘Sorry. I know. Sorry. They’re all really nice guys, of course they are. I just don’t know if I’d want to celebrate my engagement with them.’
‘Jack. Listen. Name one person it could be. Focus.’
‘Yes, right. One person. One person? I honestly don’t feel like Dad knows “one person”. Not that he could invite anywhere. He knows me, you, his ex-wife, his gang of drinking buddies …’
‘Colleagues?’
‘Same, not that he’d invite out.’
‘I don’t think we’re going to guess this one. He clearly wants to be a bit Dark Horse about all of this, so we’re just going to have to wait—’ Zoe looked at her watch ‘—forty more minutes until we can solve the mystery, ok?’ Jack was staring out of the window, frowning. This would be the most time either of them had spent with Graham in two years, since Linda had left him; every other meeting had been a snatched coffee in a train station when Graham was on his way to somewhere else. He hadn’t been prioritising time with his son since finding himself alone.
Zoe rummaged in her bag. ‘Jack.’ She waved a book at him. ‘Crossword with me?’
Even though they’d agreed to meet Jack’s dad – and now his surprise guest – at the pub, he was there waiting for them on the platform. Jack saw him from the train window and turned to Zoe with sudden light in his eyes. ‘You don’t think it’s Mum, do you? That must be why he didn’t tell us! That’s the surprise!’
Zoe put her arm through his, gently saying, ‘No, I don’t think so. Linda would have told us she was coming, Jack. It must be someone else.’
Jack turned away from her, and watched his dad through the window again. ‘Mmm,’ he said. ‘S’pose so.’
As they got off the train and approached Graham, he looked different too, in a similar way to how Linda had looked so different in that airport, but with some kind of undertone that Zoe couldn’t quite put her finger on.
‘Hello,’ he said, waving at them both, fingers waggling. He clapped Jack briefly on the back, smiled and nodded at Zoe, and headed off towards the car park. Zoe and Jack looked at each other, Zoe amused, Jack incredulous, before hurrying after him.
‘Dad?’
‘Oh yes, yes, I know I said we’d meet you there, but we were passing anyway and I thought I might as well pick you up.’
‘We?’
‘Yes.’ He stopped by his pristine car, and the passenger door opened. ‘Jack, do you remember Christine? Used to work at your primary school?’
‘Not really.’
Zoe put her arm back in Jack’s.
‘Well, she’s joining us for lunch today.’
Christine stepped out, all cashmere waterfall cardigan and perfect neutral lipstick. Zoe could tell – her neatness, her adults-only knitwear, her brittle, practised smile – that Christine hated children, and could tell from Jack’s reaction that he had known it for years. But they weren’t children now.
‘Hello, I’m Zoe.’ She walked towards her, hand out, and Christine’s smile became brighter, harder.
‘Hello Zoe, I’ve heard so much about you.’
They both turned to Jack, who was completely speechless, but after a moment raised a hand in greeting. Christine’s smile faltered, but she caught it and turned it back on. ‘Hello, Jack! Lovely to see you again after all this time.’
They stood in silence for a while, four of them around the car, Jack looking shocked and Christine looking uncertain, Graham beaming at them all. Finally, Zoe said, ‘What time is our reservation for?’
Then suddenly they were all action, Christine saying, ‘Right, you young ones can have the back seat to yourselves,’ while Graham started the engine before any of them were even inside, and Zoe was looking at Jack and his frozen face.
Once they were in, Graham turned the radio on. A Radio 2 jingle blared out, followed by the opening bars of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.
‘Oh, this is my favourite!’ breathed Christine, clasping her hands together. Graham smiled at her and turned it up to an almost deafening volume, which she adjusted slightly downwards as he continued driving.
Zoe turned to Jack, who now looked outright horrified.
‘Dad doesn’t listen to music,’ he hissed, the sound buried by Freddie Mercury’s deafening falsetto.
‘Why wouldn’t you shake her hand?’ Zoe whispered back.
‘Zo, I didn’t even know she still existed. Apart from some uncomfortable childhood memories where she terrified me through the hatch of the school office, I have literally no idea who she even is. I didn’t know she was going to turn up at a lunch with my dad. Forgive me if I’ve forgotten the social niceties of meeting your dad’s girlfriend – with absolutely no warning – only to find she was your childhood nightmare fuel.’
‘That bad?’
‘That bad. Seriously. I mean, she wasn’t beating us up and putting us in the chokey, but in terms of people I imagined my dad hooking up with, Christine Churchill is somewhere between Angela Merkel and George Michael.’
‘Alright. Alright. You did pretty well in that case. This is weird, isn’t it?’
‘This is totally weird, thank you. I actually feel like I’m in a dream. What next, my old lecturer turns up naked and the pub turns into a giant cake?’
‘You’re panicking.’
‘Yes, I’m panicking. She was awful at school. Awful. When did this happen? How did this happen?’
Zoe looked in the rearview mirror, and saw both Jack’s dad and Christine were distracted, singing along to the music. She turned towards Jack, putting both her hands on his shoulders. ‘Hey,’ she whispered. ‘It’s going to be ok. We just have to get through lunch, which will be fine: ordering food, eating food, we’ve done this before. Then we’ll get back on the train and we can have full meltdowns, ok? This’ll be, what? Three hours tops? We can do three hours of just biting our tongues and being insanely polite, ok? And then we can freak out and analyse the many thousands of ways in which this is completely weird. But later. Ok?’
‘Ok.’
Zoe kissed him. ‘I’m really proud of you.’
Jack looked pleased. ‘Thanks.’
She turned forwards in her seat again, put her head on his shoulder, and smiled.
The pub, far from being the traditional, low-ceilinged, tiny-windowed, smoking fireplaces kind of place, was beautiful and bright. One whole glass wall looked out onto a babbling stream; their table was tucked in a corner against a huge mirror, carrying in the shimmering light from outside. Christine and Graham took the furthest seats, after a long, lingering kiss; Jack and Zoe sat with their backs to the room, but still able to watch everything behind them in the mirror’s reflection.
Christine ordered them all a bottle of house white, which they sat sipping in silence for a moment after the waitress had half filled their glasses. Zoe watched Jack gazing at Graham, who looked at the liquid in his glass with something like surprise, as if unsure how it had got there, before taking a sip and smiling slightly. Zoe was busying herself with the menu when she saw in the mirror the reflection of Christine’s hand resting on Graham’s knee under the table, stroking it softly. Thankfully, Jack had now fixed his attention on the menu, in the kind of sightless way that reminded Zoe of how Graham had looked at his wine.
She leant over to him. ‘What do you think you’ll go for?’
He looked up, distantly, then looked at his dad and Christine. ‘Something with cyanide?’ he whispered.
She put her hand on his knee, then jerked it away in surprise, seeing in the mirror Christine’s hand slide up Graham’s thigh. Jack looked puzzled. Zoe tried to compose herself. ‘Pâté? Then lamb? What do you reckon? Or go halves on the lamb and the steak for mains?’
Jack nodded. ‘Sounds fine. I’m going to the toilet. Please will you order for me?’
Zoe took his hand as he got up, and mouthed, ‘Please don’t hang yourself.’ Jack laughed, and bent back down to kiss her hand.
In the silence, Zoe took a nervous drink, and hoped the waitress would come back soon. Christine leant towards Zoe and said, in a stage whisper that cut across the room, ‘Is Jack alright?’
‘He’s fine, just tired.’ She explained that they’d had friends over for dinner the night before and he was just a little sleepy.
Christine wrinkled her nose. ‘Had he forgotten he was seeing us today?’
Zoe tried to think of a polite way of saying Us? but just smiled and said, ‘It was only a quiet meal with friends. Perhaps we’re just getting old too.’ She realised the weight of her insult as she watched Christine’s mouth slowly pucker around the comment. Fortunately at that moment the waitress arrived, and although Jack was still absent, Zoe was able to persuade her to take their orders, rather than wait for him. ‘He might not be out until dessert,’ she whispered as the waitress took her menu. The waitress smiled knowingly back and Zoe thought there was some solidarity there – at least she could rely on the staff if she and Jack absolutely had to escape and needed a distracting plate crash or small kitchen explosion.
By the time the bread basket arrived, Jack had returned. ‘Feeling a little better after last night?’ Christine asked. Zoe opened her mouth to explain again that it was just a quiet but late dinner, and Jack looked at Zoe, wondering what she’d said. Graham interrupted them with his first comment since they’d sat down, saying, ‘They do good bread here. Lovely stuff,’ before laying the entire dish of butter on a single piece of warm sliced baguette and pushing the whole thing down his throat in two mouthfuls.
While Jack asked for another dish of butter – ‘Actually, better make it two, please?’ – Zoe ate a whole slice herself, unbuttered. Last night’s dinner felt like a long time ago, and all she’d had since then was their coffee from the station. She tore the bread in two, chewed one half, swallowed, and was chewing the second when she noticed Christine staring at her with something like horror. Zoe swatted at her face, patting it down for any smears or crumbs, then looked over Christine’s shoulder into the mirror to see if there was something she’d missed.
Christine blinked at her. ‘Well, you’ve certainly got a good appetite, haven’t you? It’s like watching some kind of medieval banquet from this side, isn’t it, Graham?’
Jack’s father nodded and smiled. ‘Glad you’re enjoying yourselves,’ he said, before swallowing his own unbuttered slice in two unchewed mouthfuls again. Christine watched him with an oily smile on her face. ‘We’ll get you some more bread, Graham, before these two polish it off.’
Jack tipped the bread basket towards Christine, offering the still-warm slices, but she shook her head quickly and said, ‘Oh dear, no, thank you, Jack, bread doesn’t do any favours to a lady. By our age we have to be a bit more careful, don’t we, Zoe?’
Zoe looked at Jack with a deadpan face; he made a slight choking noise as he tried not to laugh. Zoe picked up a second slice, took the new butter from the waitress’s hand, thanking her, spread it thickly on the bread before biting into it and almost groaning with pleasure. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘Graham, this really is very good bread.’ He nodded and smiled again, and Jack joined them in a new silence, filled with chewing and spreading and little noises of enjoyment and delicious gluttony.
The main course was a little better: Christine actually ate something, but Zoe’s appetite was all but blasted to smithereens when something moving in the mirror caught her eye, and she saw the reflection of Christine’s hand not just stroking Graham’s thigh, but actively moving higher and higher up his leg throughout the entire course. When Jack asked if she was ok, Zoe muttered something about last night catching up with her.
After the bill had been paid – Christine had refused dessert, looking meaningfully at Zoe, and Graham said he was sure he had a Cornetto in the freezer at home, that’d do him – and they had stepped out into the pub carpark, Christine muttered something in Graham’s ear.
He nodded, cleared his throat, then said without any preamble, ‘Listen, Jack, Christine and I – we’re actually married. Got it done quietly the other day. Just the legal stuff. Didn’t want to bother you. But thought you two – you three – should probably meet.’
Jack looked stunned. It was the most his father had spoken for the whole meal – for much of recent history, in fact, as far as Jack and Zoe could tell. Christine leant in to give him and Zoe a hug, arching her body away from theirs as if physical contact would be the terrible icing on today’s uneaten cake. She stood back with a face that suggested she’d never quite mastered spontaneous happiness, as Graham gave Zoe a peck on the cheek and Jack a firm handshake, two-handed, with real warmth.
‘Thanks for coming, son. Thanks to both of you.’ He nodded again. ‘It’s been really great that you could join us. And, er, congratulations on your own engagement.’ He nodded at Zoe, this time. ‘Welcome to the family.’
Christine took Graham’s other arm. ‘I’m sorry we can’t give you a lift back, though. We’ve got plans for later.’
Zoe hitched her bag up on her shoulder and Jack released his dad’s hand. ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘We’ve got all that bread to work off, after all.’
They watched Graham and Christine head to their car, Christine waiting for Graham to open the door for her as he walked around the car to his own side and got in, starting the engine and rubbing his hands in the cool of the car. Christine looked around, saw Zoe and Jack watching her, and climbed into the car in one sharp movement, slamming her door and turning her face away from them. Graham raised his hand once more to wave goodbye, before the car slowly crunched over the gravel and turned away into the road.
‘That was …’ Zoe couldn’t find quite the right word.
‘I know. Wasn’t it just.’
‘Did you have any idea?’
‘That my terrifying primary school secretary had secretly married my dad? No, Zoe, I can honestly confess that I did not.’
‘But has he ever said anything about seeing anyone?’
‘Has he ever said anything about anything?’
‘Good point.’ She put an arm around Jack’s waist. ‘Married, though. Do you think your mum knows?’
‘Oh god. Mum. I doubt it. Unless … Oh god, do you think that’s the real reason they broke up? That she found out about her and Dad?’
‘No. No, it can’t be. It didn’t feel like that, did it? He’d look more … embarrassed or something, wouldn’t he?’
‘Plus I haven’t heard anything from the Norwich grapevine. It would have been all over the local gossip pages had he run off with someone from his son’s school. Or at least all over the pubs at Christmas. No, this seems a bit … new.’
‘Ah, young love.’
‘Ugh.’
Zoe put on a mock therapist voice. ‘Now now, Jack, your father is allowed to be happy too. Can you accept his happiness without it lessening your own?’
Jack slung an arm around her shoulder. ‘As long as this is just his rebound marriage. That’s up to him. And as long as I don’t have to actually ever spend any time with her in any kind of family situation, that’ll be fine.’
‘So you’re not up for opening your stocking with her on Christmas morning?’
‘Or holding her hand while I search for Easter eggs?’
‘Or giving her a New Year’s kiss at midnight?’
Jack put his hand to his mouth and swallowed. ‘Oh god, seriously, that lamb’s going to come up again.’
Zoe laughed, and tried not to think about exactly what Graham might be getting out of that apparently quite handsy relationship. ‘Maybe your dad just needs to have a bit of fun.’
Jack looked at her. ‘I’m sure he does. But if fun’s what he’s after, he might be dipping his bucket in the wrong well.’
‘Don’t worry! We’ll probably only ever have to see her once a year. Twice, tops, I reckon.’
Jack hugged her and kissed the top of her head. ‘I’m sure you’re right. Come on, let’s head back to some stinking, crowded, anti-social civilisation.’