Be More Capybara

Nigel stood in front of Dashford Grange's heavy wooden front door. Judging by the raucous laughter coming from inside the house, it must be his mother's annual New Year's Eve party. Surely she shouldn't be bothering with those at her age.

'You going to be ok?' the taxi driver asked as he took Nigel's suitcases out of the boot.

'Yes, thanks.' Nigel gave him a fixed smile, hoping it looked convincing.

'I'll be off then. Happy New Year, mate.' The driver got back into his car and headed up the long gravel drive back to the main road.

Nigel resisted the temptation to call him back. It would be so easy to go to Barnstaple, hole up in a hotel there for the night, then come back here in the morning when there were fewer people around. Don't bottle out now, Nige. You've travelled 3,000 miles to be here.

He'd have to face everyone eventually, and the sooner he got it over and done with, the better.

His hand hovered over the door handle. Should he ring the bell instead? No. Guests would do that, but this house had been his childhood home, and technically, he still owned a share of it. He turned the handle and pushed the door. It was unlocked. No surprise there. Rural Devon didn't warrant the complex security measures he'd had installed in his New York brownstone.

As he walked into the hallway, he tried not to think about everything he'd left behind in the States.

The space was still dimly lit by the pair of Tiffany lamps that his great-grandparents had received as a wedding gift in 1914.

The rest of the decor was also reassuringly familiar, despite it being 15 years since he'd last set foot in here: the parquet flooring; the dark wood panelling on the walls; a large mahogany table in the centre with a vase of flowers; the portraits of his ancestors that lined the stairway up to the first floor; and the tall grandfather clock that was ticking noisily in the corner. Even the smell was familiar: polish with a hint of lavender.

Nigel lifted his cases inside and left them by the staircase. He turned his attention to the double doors that led into the drawing room. Light was spilling from underneath them, and the sound of talking and laughter was louder now.

Time to brave the crowd. He took a deep breath, strode towards the doors, and opened them wide.

'Nigel!' His mother's voice cut through all the chatter in the drawing room. 'What on earth are you doing here?'

The guests fell silent. Everyone turned to look at him. It was as if he were in one of his recurring nightmares - the one where he was standing naked in front of a group of strangers.

'Lovely to see you too, Mother.'

She looked like she was about to ask him something, but changed her mind. 'Help me with the desserts,' she said, shepherding him back into the hall before anyone else could say a word.

'Am I an embarrassment?' he asked as he followed her into the kitchen.

'Not at all. I didn't think you'd want to be quizzed about your surprise arrival in front of everyone. You look like you haven't slept for a week.'

'That's probably because I haven't - not properly, anyway.'

'What's happened? Where are Maddie and the girls?' she asked as she shut the kitchen door behind them.

He sat down on one of the stools by the breakfast bar. 'Still in New York at Maddie's father's.'

She raised an eyebrow in that way she used to do when she'd just read a less-than-stellar school report. 'Why aren't you with them?'

'It's a long story.'

'Tell me,' his mother said as she reached for the Earl Grey teabags.