Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Mum squeezed my hand and an unfamiliar swirl of pride circled in my stomach.
“If I’d had a mind like that,” Dad continued, “there’s no telling what I would have been able to achieve.”
“Dad!” I said. “You’ve had one of the most distinguished careers of anyone in medicine. You’re about to be knighted, for goodness’ sake.”
“I’m not half as capable as you.”
“Don’t put pressure on him, John.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve been guilty of that your whole life, haven’t I?” He chucked the towel back on the Aga and came to sit down. “I’m always pushing. Always looking for better. For me, for you, for everyone. It’s a curse.”
“We’re talking about Sutton,” Mum said.
I groaned and reached for a cold roast potato. Now I was going to get the long-awaited lecture about keeping my private life private.
“Seemed like a nice girl. Bright. Pretty. You marrying her?”
“Jacob and Sutton have split up,” Mum announced.
“Well, you need to make it right, Jacob. I wouldn’t be as successful as I am if I hadn’t had your mother. Having someone in your corner, someone to lean on and cheer you on, is invaluable.”
“I get it,” I said. “I just haven’t found that person yet.”
“Are you sure?” he said.
“I thought you didn’t approve of having relationships in hospital,” I said.
He shrugged. “These things happen. If it’s the right person, it’s the right person.”
How could he be so blasé? He’d been adamant for so many years.
The sound of car tires on gravel caught my attention. I glanced out the window to see Zach’s car pulling into the drive.
So that’s why Mum hadn’t wanted me to go out for a walk. She’d called the cavalry.
Shame it was a wasted journey.
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting to see Zach,” she said.
“You’re a terrible liar,” I said and stood to greet him.
He was the other side of the door when I opened it. “What’s going on?” he said. “Mum said you were upset and it was an emergency.”
“Zach!” Mum said.
“What?” Zach asked. “You did. And I’ve driven up here just like you asked.”
“Come on,” I said, resigned to the fact that I was going to have a companion on the walk I’d hoped would be solitary. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Let me change my shoes,” Zach said as he toed off his shoes and grabbed his walking shoes from where all ours were dumped in the corner of the porch.
“Aren’t these supposed to be in the boot room?” I asked.
“Dog now owns the boot room,” Mum said. “I’ll make some bread while you’re out.”
We shut the door as we left and it felt like I was leaving behind a lot of baggage that had been weighing me down for a long time. Things weren’t as I’d thought they were and it was going to take time for me to assimilate the unburdened me. The one whose father not just admired him but thought him more capable in some ways. It had just been a conversation over cold roast potatoes, but one that had shifted the ground I walked on.
The road down to the quayside was only wide enough for a single car and had no footpath. The village had been established a thousand years ago and wasn’t built for two SUVs coming in opposite directions. It was all part of the charm that kept the place feeling a world away from London. Being here was exactly what I needed.
“You know I’m not good at the whole talking thing,” Zach said, “but I’m not the worst listener.”
“Said who?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure you’d score pretty low as a listener if we surveyed the family.”
Zach half smiled, which was the equivalent of a roaring laugh from him. “Maybe.”
Despite wanting to be on my own, and despite me not wanting to talk about Sutton, I relayed what had happened between us. I started from Beau’s initial favor, to the pact to keep away from each other, to breaking that pact, to breaking up in an Ikea carpark.
“Why Ikea?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe because it’s easy to find?”
“I’m not sure it matters,” he said.
“I’m sure it doesn’t matter.”
When we arrived at the quayside, we turned left onto the coastal path, the opposite of the direction Sutton and I had gone. This way we were quicker to lose the people around us. Soon we were alone as far as the eye could see.
“So, now you’re just miserable,” Zach said.
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“Well if you’d forgotten already, I’m not sure why I’ve driven up from London.”
“Did you just make a joke, Zachary?” Zach was the most reserved of all of us. The most careful. The most considered. Perfect. He was uber-focused—the kid who just sat there taking everything in. Like the sober friend at a stag party who could relay all your worst decisions the morning after. He was infuriating but useful.