Page 57 of The House on Sunset Lake

‘I’m not completely chained to my desk, you know.’

‘Try,’ she pressed as the waiter came to take their order.

‘So your father has something to announce,’ said Elizabeth, evidently tiring of the subject.

‘Announce?’ Bryn harrumphed, glowering at Elizabeth, but Jim could detect a smile under the frown. ‘You make it sound like I’m abdicating or something,’ he grumbled. ‘Just some nonsense in the honours list.’

‘It is not nonsense,’ said Elizabeth. ‘It’s about bloody time, if you ask me.’

Jim looked from one parent to the other. ‘Well?’ he prompted.

‘CBE,’ said Bryn bluntly.

‘Isn’t it marvellous?’ trilled Elizabeth, beaming. Jim wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his mother smile that widely.

‘That’s amazing, Dad,’ he said, leaning across and clutching Bryn’s hand. ‘Seriously, it’s really well deserved. I’m proud of you.’

Bryn met his eyes for a long moment, then glanced away. ‘Lot of rubbish really,’ he said. Jim saw that his mother was about to object, so he jumped in first.

‘So do you have to go to the palace? Is there a presentation?’

‘Not a presentation, an investiture,’ said Elizabeth, with evident pride. ‘It’s very formal. They’ve sent a list of acceptable attire and a guide to the etiquette on the day.’

‘Wow, part of the establishment now, Dad?’

‘I’d turn it down if I thought it’d make a blind bit of difference,’ Bryn snorted.

‘Why should you turn it down?’ said Elizabeth. ‘You’re a pioneer, you’ve changed the face of English literature . . .’

‘I’m really thrilled for you. It’s brilliant. We should have a party,’ suggested Jim. ‘I’m due a visit back to London. Maybe we can hire out Wheeler’s or Wiltons.’ They were two of his father’s favourite restaurants.

‘Actually, we thought we’d have a party here.’

‘In New York?’ frowned Jim.

His mother leaned forward and placed both hands on the table.

‘Your father’s had a very exciting opportunity come his way.’

‘I don’t know about exciting,’ he blustered. ‘But it’s an opportunity and it’s good to try different things.’

‘What opportunity?’

‘I’ve been offered a visiting fellowship at Columbia. Just for a semester, although we’ll see how it goes.’

‘Teaching?’

‘I like to think of it as inspiring. You know, Martin Amis did it for a little while at Manchester University. The job can be so solitary sometimes.’

‘So we’re moving over,’ added Elizabeth.

‘Fantastic,’ said Jim, not entirely sure how he really felt about it. He had spent a lifetime living in Bryn Johnson’s shadow. Growing up, he’d lost track of the number of times he’d simply been introduced as ‘Jim, Bryn Johnson’s son’, as if he didn’t actually exist in his own right. Even when he had moved into the corporate field, his father’s reputation still preceded him: the bankers and politicians he met, who all liked to consider themselves well read and literary, seemed to take him that little bit more seriously when they connected his surname to the great prize-winning writer. But in New York, he didn’t have that baggage. No one cared where you came from, only where you were going.

‘We can keep an eye on you,’ added Bryn.

‘Right,’ he said, taking a large gulp of his gin and tonic.

‘You know your mother and I lived here for a while before you were born?’