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I especially didn’t think Frankie would want his family to know. In time, maybe, but I was getting ahead of myself. This could blow over like a tornado in England. Wild and windy, only to fizzle out when the weather changed.

“So,” Fergus dabbed his face with a napkin, “where did you learn to play the piano? You must have been playing for years.”

“I’ve never had lessons, but I’ve been playing a while. My Gran has an old piano, and I played on the one at school.”

“You’ve never had lessons? Surely, you can read music?” Fergus asked incredulously.

“Nope. Like I said, I’ve never had lessons. I just sat in front of it and played.” I squeezed his hand under the table, supporting him through Fergus’s grilling.

“I don’t believe that. No one can play that well without having at least some sort of instruction.”

“Of course it’s possible,” Aileen chimed in. “Some people have an innate talent for hearing pitch, tone, and rhythm awareness. It’s not unheard of or beyond the realm of possibility. For a clever man, you can be stupid, Fergus.”

I watched as Frankie looked between them. Fergus and Aileen had always had a sibling rivalry going on, both competitive in their own fields of medicine and with each other.

“Now, now, children,” Dad said. “Let’s remember Frankie is here as our guest. We shouldn’t be subjecting him to the third degree, Fergus. I think you played beautifully. My late wife…”

I looked over at Tilly. Had he forgotten her name again? But he was pausing, no doubt recalling her with fondness.

“My late wife, Doreen, she never had a lesson in her life, and she played like an angel. Could hear a tune and just play it, much like you did. It was lovely to hear the music coming to life again. The piano has stood for far too long. You can come and play it any time you want to.”

“Thank you. That’s a very kind offer. I’d love that.” Frankie looked over at me. He’d had enough. I didn’t know him that well, but I could see my family had exhausted him.

Fuck, they exhausted me.

“You okay?” I mouthed while everyone else was busy chatting.

“Can you show me where the toilet is?” He pushed his chair back and stood.

“Follow me.” I took his hand and led him to the bathroom. “Are you ready to leave yet? I know they can be a lot, and I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Would you mind? I don’t want to cut your family time short.”

“Hey, I know how bad they can be, Fergus especially. Just be grateful the other two brothers aren’t here.”

“I forgot you had two more. Fuck, Mac, your house must be bedlam at Christmas.”

“You can say that again, but go pee, and we’ll make a move. I’ll be waiting in the garden.”

Before I even got there, Tilly accosted me. “Oh, Mac. He’s so lovely. How are you not going out together?”

“We barely know each other.” I refused to be drawn into this conversation. I’d likely blurt out what had happened earlier.

“Doesn’t matter. That’s what dating is for. Don’t let him slip through your fingers like the last one did.”

My last boyfriend couldn’t handle the long hours of studying, the overtime, and everything that went along with being a junior doctor. Since he left, I’d taken myself off the market and vowed to not date until I was more settled.

Tilly was right, though; I’d let him go. I hadn’t attempted to keep him around, but perhaps he wasn’t the right one after all, because if he was, I’d have moved heaven and earth to persuade him to stay.

“We’ll see. Let’s not jump the gun.”

I searched out Dad amongst the rose garden, his secateurs in hand.

“Hi, son. Thanks for coming over today. I know Tilly has been worried about me, but she shouldn’t. I’m good, just a bit forgetful. She thinks I’ve got dementia, but it's nothing like that.”

“I know, but we all worry.” I plucked a white rose from the bush and brought it to my nose, inhaling the sweet fragrance.

“She loved her roses, did your Mum.” He gazed around the garden at the blossoming flowerbeds, the vegetable patch full of onions, potatoes, and green beans. He’d thrown himself into it after she died.