Page 54 of In at the Deep End

Horror washed over Matt in a slow, unstoppable wave, heat flooding all the way to his ears. “No,” he croaked.

Owen’s smile widened enough to be dangerous. “Good.”

He wandered into the lounge, Matt trailing behind him. Owen’s gaze drifted over the television, the DVD player, and finally the neatly stacked cardboard boxes sitting conspicuously on top of another.

His eyes flicked to Matt. “Looks like you’ve been very productive.”

Matt swallowed.

“Have you unpacked any glasses yet?” Mum asked Owen.

“No, but Callum might have. Let me check.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

Dad stood in the middle of the lounge, gazing at the bookcases. “Wow. You have been busy.” He peered at the shelves, then at the boxes. “Are these all DVDs?”

“Yeah. We haven’t even got to the books yet.” How Matt kept his voice steady, he would never know. He cocked his head. “Everything okay?”

Dad didn’t speak for a moment. Finally, he let out a sigh. “Yeah. Everything’s good. We needed that talk.”

Owen came into the lounge, two champagne flutes in each hand. “Success.”

Mum grinned, then handed a bottle to Dad. “You do it. You know it always makes me jump.”

Matt leapt to the rescue. “No, I’ll do it. Dad has a tendency to break windows.”

Owen laughed. “Good save.”

He tore the gold foil, and a moment later, a dull pop sounded. Owen took over, pouring the champagne, until they all stood in a group.

Mum raised her glass.

“To old friends, new beginnings…” She smiled at Owen. “…and not waiting another thirty years to tell each other the truth.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Dad said. He turned to Owen. “To the future.” He aimed a hard stare at him. “We’ve spent enough time talking about the past for one evening.”

Mum chuckled. “Hear, hear.”

Warmth surged through Matt to hear the love in their voices.

Then everyone sat on the couches, except for Mum who decided to examine the films on the shelves.

“Did you get the reminder email about the reunion?” Dad asked Owen, who nodded.

“Saw it this morning.” His eyes sparkled. “I suppose thirty years is a good time to celebrate.”

Mum turned her head in his direction. “I don’t think we’ll be going,” she said with a sigh.

Owen blinked. “Really? I’d considered it.”

Dad leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “And if the circumstances were different, we would have too. But…” He hesitated, and Matt knew exactly what was coming.

Granddad.

“Gordon—Jeff’s father—well… he’s…” Mum’s voice faltered.

“I know,” Owen said quickly. “Matt told me.”

“We know he hasn’t got long,” Dad said in a low voice. “And I want to be there for him. It could be anytime now.”