Page 119 of Mistaken Impression

He frowns. “You don’t sound fine. Would you like to come up for a cup of tea?”

“I was just making one…”

“Shall I come down there, then?”

I can hardly say ‘no’, even though I’m not feeling very sociable. He’s been so kind to me.

“Of course.”

“I’ll just get my keys.”

He disappears for a moment, and I use the time to empty my recycling, leaving my front door open for Henry to come in, which he does a few minutes later.

“They’re saying we’re going to have a white Christmas,” he says, closing the door and coming down the hall into the kitchen.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. They say that every year, don’t they?”

“Hmm… I think so.”

I pour water over the tea bags, giving them a stir and turn to face him.

“How’s work?” I get my question in before he can start quizzing me.

“It’s fine. We’re busier than usual for the time of year, so I’m not complaining, although I’ve got to go in later, just to catch up on paperwork.”

“On a Sunday?”

He nods. “There’s no peace for the wicked.”

I fetch the milk from the fridge and finish making the tea, carrying both cups into the living room, where we sit on the sofa, gazing out of the doors onto the courtyard. It’s so grey outside today, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it snowed, but I’m not about to start another discussion on the weather.

“You don’t have a tree,” Henry says, glancing around the room.

“No. I couldn’t see the point when it’s just me.”

He frowns. “Really? I always enjoy decorating the Christmas tree.” Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. He has a glorious beast of a tree that practically fills his front window.

“I noticed.”

He turns slightly, so he’s facing me. “Is everything okay, Mac? You seem very down in the dumps.”

“I am down in the dumps.”

“Is this to do with your young lady?” he asks.

“She’s not my young lady. Not anymore.”

“Okay… but it’s to do with her?”

“Yes. I… um… I called her.”

He seems surprised. “You did?”

“Yes.”

“Can I take it the call didn’t go well?”

“She didn’t pick up. She let it ring, and then go to voicemail.”

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