Matilda Next Door - Kelly Hunter Page 0,49

I’m engaged to Matilda.’

Possibly not the best time to drop that bit of news. His grandfather’s expression widened and then hardened. His grandmother just looked even more confused. ‘Our Tilly?’ she said. ‘Tilly next door?’

‘Yes,’ he murmured.

‘Oh, she’s a lovely girl, isn’t she, Joe?’

‘Yes.’ Henry wasn’t the only one with a liking for single word answers. ‘We should let you get some rest. Don’t forget to eat some of the apple custard cake Tilly sent you.’

‘Tilly? From next door? Oh, she’s a lovely girl, isn’t she, Joe?’

‘Yes,’ her husband of many years said gently. ‘For sure.’

*

His grandfather waited until they were back at the car and Henry had settled the baby in the car carrier, before laying in. ‘So, you and Matilda Moore are engaged now. Since when?’

‘Last night.’ He still needed to get her a ring. Something flawless. Not too ostentatious. Had to be a diamond. He hoped she liked platinum. ‘It works for us. Why question it?’

‘Son, you question everything. It’s what you do. And now I’m questioning you. I thought you weren’t going to take advantage of Matilda.’

‘I’m not taking advantage of her,’ he grated. ‘Why are you automatically discounting the thought that I have feelings for her?’

His grandfather clamped his lips shut and stayed stubbornly silent, and it was this … this silence … that cut at Henry like the sharpest of knives. He never knew what the other man meant.

Was he agreeing with his wife when she said Henry would never make good? Silence is consent?

Was he too disappointed in Henry’s behaviour for words?

Wondering, in the absence of sloshing sounds, whether the washing machine had clicked off?

What did all that silence ever mean? ‘Shall I answer for you?’ he offered, and then went right ahead. ‘Henry’s intellectual pursuits are all consuming—he doesn’t have time to understand people. Henry doesn’t trust women. Henry doesn’t know how to love. God help whoever marries him, because they’ll have their work cut out for him. Have I missed any?’

‘Son—’

‘I’m not your son. I’m no one’s son, and that’s another black mark, isn’t it? I had no notion of what father figures did at all, until you came along. But for all your encouragement when no one else was looking, I never quite won you over. You never stood up for me, not once. You let your wife spew her anger all over me, and never once raised your voice in my defence. You let me think I was too broken to fix. Best keep me away from anything of value, because I’ll destroy it, right? Poor Tilly. Doesn’t know what she’s taking on.’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘Well, you sure as shit didn’t say congratulations!’

He didn’t know why he was so upset. He knew they thought him deficient. They always had, and he’d always taken it as his due. He’d compared their disappointment to his mother’s inconsistent love, and figured the problem must lie with him. He’d tried so hard to fix himself for them. Kept his head down and never given his grandparents a lick of trouble, unless it was for being too smart for school and therefore inattentive. He’d worked hard on the farm and been downright grateful for the roof over his head and the food on the table.

And he’d left Wirralong the minute he could, because in part they had expected it of him. Always restless, like his mother. Never satisfied, always seeking. Lacking compassion, no emotional comprehension, just like his mother. But not all of those labels could be pinned on him.

He doubted his mother deserved them all either.

‘I’m not a waste of time and space. I can love and I do love. I goddamn love you, don’t I? For all that you have done on my behalf, which is plenty. I’ve loved Tilly forever, that’s just fact, and I’ll damn well learn to love Rowan and be a good father, see if I don’t. So you need to understand where I’m coming from on this, and cut me some fucking slack.’

The shock on his grandfather’s face would be funny, if it didn’t gut Henry so much. Because Henry Church never talked back, he never made his wants and feelings known to those around him, he simply put his head down and moved on, keeping everyone at a distance. Everyone but Tilly, who’d slipped through his safety net years ago. ‘Matilda trusts me to know what I’m doing with my emotions and with hers, and that means the world to me. I’m going to honour that