Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 245(@200wpm)___ 196(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 245(@200wpm)___ 196(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
“Thanks. How about the biscuits, are there any left for me?” he asked.
“You’d better get in quickly,” Maria replied. “I think we’ve nearly demolished them.”
“Crikey, you have!” He peered into the tin. “I’d forgotten how quickly a tin of biscuits can disappear with all the family home… all the family with some new additions, I should say.” He smiled at Adrian and then Jackson.
Nick felt a sudden flash of guilt. Now he’d healed the rift with his dad it felt wrong to have deceived them about the nature of his relationship with Jackson. It was too late now, though. At some point down the line he’d have to make up more lies to explain a separation, or a dissolution of the relationship. That was a depressing thought.
As his dad leant across him to reach the biscuit tin, Nick spotted a smudge of something green on his face. “Dad, you’ve got paint on your cheek.” He pointed.
“Have I?” He drew back, rubbing ineffectually at the smear with his free hand. “Ah well, it’s an occupational hazard. I’ll get it off later. I only came out to grab a cup of tea and a biscuit or two. I’m going to do a bit more painting before lunch.” With that he picked up his tea and headed off again.
“What’s he up to?” Maria asked. “He seems to be on a bit of a mission today.”
“No idea.” Their mum shrugged and then she turned to Nick and asked, “What time do you want to have lunch? I know you and Jackson didn’t want to leave too late.”
Nick glanced up at the kitchen clock. It was already nearly midday. “In an hour or so? I’d like to try and leave by about half one. But we won’t need much lunch. I’m not very hungry after the biscuit frenzy.”
“Well there’s plenty of bread and cheese for sandwiches, and turkey leftovers of course.”
“That sounds perfect.”
Lunch ended up being a little later than planned, but by two o’clock Nick and Jackson had packed the car and were ready to say their farewells. Nick’s family were assembling in the hall to see them off, Seth was in Maria’s arms, fresh from his nap and still looking a little sleepy.
“Will he come to me for a cuddle?” Nick asked.
“Try him. What do you think, Sethie? Got a hug and a kiss for Uncle Nick?”
Nick held out his arms and was rewarded by an adorable smile and a happy noise, so Maria handed him over. Nick kissed Seth’s cheek. “Goodbye, buddy. Tell your mum and dad to come and visit us soon.” He smiled at Maria. “You know you’re always welcome at ours.”
“Thanks. We might take you up on that.”
“Of course. You must have a spare room in your flat now,” Nick’s mum said, eyes lighting up. “I’d love to come to London sometime and stay over… if you wouldn’t mind putting me up?”
He could hardly refuse. “Um, yeah. Of course.” Nick shot Jackson an anxious glance.
“Absolutely.” Jackson’s tone was unconcerned, but Nick knew him well enough to recognise the tension hiding in the set of his jaw.
Nick always hated the awkwardness of goodbyes, and this was even worse than usual. Keen to get away, he handed Seth back to Maria and gave her a hug and a kiss, and then he moved on to hug Adrian, and then Pete as Jackson followed him down the line of people.
“Where’s Dad?” he asked his mum with a frown. “He knows we’re leaving, yes?”
“Yes,” his mother assured him. “Reg!” she called loudly. “Hurry up, will you?”
“Coming!” His dad’s voice came through the study door as it opened. “Sorry to keep you. I just needed to make sure this was dry enough. I think it’s okay, but you might want to make sure you pack it where it won’t touch anything just in case.” He emerged carrying a canvas. “I wanted to give you this,” he said to Nick, holding out the painting of the Pirate Tree.
A lump grew in Nick’s throat as he studied it. The familiar shape of the trunk and branches, so firmly etched onto his mind’s eye, were perfectly depicted there, and the rich green hues of the leaves and the blue of the sky reminded him of countless summer days spent playing in the woods. Three children with hair in varying shades of red and chestnut sat high on the platform, with a black and white pirate flag strung overhead.
“Wow, that’s pretty cool, Dad!” Pete’s admiring voice broke the silence.
Nick swallowed hard. “Yeah.” He managed a dry croak. “Yeah, it’s awesome. Thanks, Dad.”
“Are you sure?” He ran a hand through his thinning grey hair. “I won’t be offended if you don’t have space for it in your flat. But I thought maybe….”
“I love it,” Nick said firmly. He took the painting and handed it to Jackson and then turned to his dad and drew him into a fierce hug. “I really love it. Thank you.”