One Perfect Summer

been laid with china. His mother sits at one end of the table and his father at the other. Lukas sits beside me and squeezes my hand under the table.
    Afternoon tea is a formal affair, and it’s hard to enjoy the many delights that appear on the table because I feel too ill at ease. Frieda tries to make conversation with me, but whenever she gets too animated her father snaps at her in German. It’s uncomfortable to see. Eventually his parents take their leave, along with the matronly aunt and gruff uncle, and the room visibly relaxes once only the twenty-somethings and children remain.
    ‘Sometimes I think we live in the nineteenth century,’ Frieda jokes, and I can’t help but giggle, even though Markus frowns at her. I’m glad to have found a like-minded person. I think we’re going to get on well.
    Later I manage to escape with Lukas for a stroll around the garden. The light is quickly fading and it’s cold, but there’s no wind so it’s not unbearable. We wander past the man-made lake to the lake at the end of the garden. There’s a summerhouse there, lit with fairy lights; icicles hang from the eaves. We stand on the porch and Lukas pulls me close.
    ‘It’s beautiful here,’ I say, permanently awestruck. ‘I can’t believe you grew up with all of this.’
    He shrugs. ‘I didn’t know any different.’
    ‘Don’t you ever feel homesick?’ I ask, studying his face.
    ‘Sometimes,’ he admits.
    ‘I didn’t know that.’
    Why didn’t I know that? Isn’t that something I should know?
    ‘I’ll take you to the Christmas market in Munich tomorrow,’ he says.
    ‘That would be great.’ Pause. ‘Would you like to move back here?’
    He thinks for a moment before answering. ‘Yes.’
    The thought sends a chill through me.
    ‘But not yet,’ he says.
    ‘What does Markus do?’ I ask suddenly. ‘And Eva?’
    ‘Markus works with my father.’
    ‘Eva?’
    ‘She’s a lawyer, for now.’
    ‘For now?’
    ‘Once Markus inherits she’ll run the house and the estate.’
    ‘Why can’t she be a lawyer too?’
    ‘It wouldn’t work.’
    I give him a perplexed look.
    He sighs. ‘It’s okay if you don’t understand, but when she married Markus she took on certain responsibilities. This is her life now.’
    ‘I don ’ t understand,’ I say firmly. ‘But never mind. I don’t suppose it matters if everyone’s happy about it.’
    ‘They are,’ he says.
    Four days later we drive to Ischgl in Austria to go skiing. Lukas’s father lends him a black four-wheel-drive Mercedes G-Wagen, and I grip the armrest tightly as he navigates the Alps with a look of satisfaction on his face. I know he misses his Porsche. The money from its sale has long since been spent on our rent and living expenses, but it’s only a matter of time before he’ll buy another car.
    The journey along the winding mountain roads is far from relaxing, yet with every mile I feel weight slide from my shoulders. We weren’t with Lukas’s parents for long, but it felt like forever. The pressure to perform was immense. I went there with the attitude that I would not be bowed by them – that they’re no better than me – but I felt far less brave once I was there in that enormous mansion. Luckily Lukas’s siblings, partners and children continued to make me feel welcome, even if I never felt comfortable enough to truly be myself.
    We’re staying at a modern five-star hotel with big windows looking out over the snow-covered mountains. There’s an expensive bottle of champagne waiting on ice for us in our super-luxurious suite. I fall onto the bed and sigh with happiness as the last of the weight slips away.
    ‘Happy?’ he asks.
    ‘Mmm.’ My eyes are closed, but I feel the mattress move as he hovers above me. I open my eyes to look into his.
    ‘You did really well,’ he says earnestly.
    ‘With your parents?’ I ask.
    ‘Yes. With everyone.’
    I prop myself up on the pillows so I can converse with him more easily. ‘The others were easy to get along with,’ I say.
    ‘I’m glad you liked them.’
    ‘I did. I do,’ I correct myself. ‘I hope your parents don’t disapprove of me too much,’ I add with a smile.
    ‘No.’ He shakes his head and looks grave. ‘They’ll get used to you with time.’
    What an odd thing to say. ‘Let’s hope so,’ I say. He fails to spot the sarcasm. ‘So what do you want to do now?’ I ask. He’s going to hit the pistes tomorrow, while I plan to take to the nursery