The Shadow House(68)

There was an awkward pause.

‘I like the last-minute approach,’ Kit said. ‘Some people put their trees up in November. I hate that.’

‘Oh, well, you know.’ I tried and failed to think of a witty response. ‘Better late than never.’

‘Do you mean the decorations? Or me?’

I peered around the edge of the box and found Kit’s eyes searching for mine.

‘I know I should’ve come to talk to you days ago,’ he said, ‘but the right time never seemed to, uh, present itself. Either you were busy, or I was busy, or there were other people around. And, like, right now you have that giant tree in front of your face, so …’

I held on to the box. I wanted to come out from behind the tree; I also wanted to stay behind it. I wasn’t ready to discuss what had happened between us, or the conversation I’d overheard with Layla, or the thing with Bess Hassop. I didn’t want to tell him any of my own private insanity or hear him say what I knew he would: that he hadn’t yet found a collaborative match for me, and that ultimately it might be best if I left Pine Ridge. And I really, really didn’t want to ask him any questions about packing materials or digital footprints, for fear of what the answers might be. Unfortunately, the conversation seemed to be happening whether I liked it or not.

I put the tree box down on the ground. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘It’s me, I’ve been avoiding you and I shouldn’t have. I know we’ve got a lot to talk about, but what happened with us’ – I glanced up at my unit to check for eavesdropping children – ‘it all happened a bit fast, and I didn’t know how to handle it. And then there’s been all this other stuff going on that I wanted to tell you about, but…’ I trailed off and shrugged.

‘You can tell me anything,’ he said.

I studied him. ‘Can I, though?’

A pause opened up between us, a great chasm of unvoiced thoughts, and I thought what a tragedy it was that we were all stuck inside our own skulls, that we could never truly know what anyone else was thinking or feeling. The loneliness of being human, the futility of trying to connect with anyone at all.

‘Okay, look,’ Kit said suddenly, still holding my reusable shopping bags like a hotel porter. ‘I’m just going to say this quickly and then it’s all out there and you can do what you like with the information. I really, really like you. So much that I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t stop thinking about you and I have no idea why. No, sorry, I do know why, that’s not what I … oh god, I’m so shit at this stuff.’

Goosebumps erupted all over my skin in a way that was both wonderful and horrible. I wanted him to say more things like that, but I also needed him to stop. It wasn’t what he was saying so much as the delivery: with a slightly performative edge, almost as if he was trying to replicate a scene from a movie.

‘From the moment I met you,’ he said, ‘I’ve had this weird feeling that I know you, that maybe we’d met before or something? I know that sounds like a line, but it’s true.’

I wanted to believe him, but instead of looking at me, he was frowning and squinting at the floor like he was concentrating on an especially tricky maths problem.

‘It drove me crazy for the longest time. But I think there’s just something in you that connects very deeply with something in me, like we’re on the same frequency or … I can’t explain it, it’s just there. But I’ve never felt that with anyone else before, and I just … I just think it should be said, because if you feel—’

‘Oh, look,’ called Jenny from somewhere behind me. ‘There’s Mummy!’

I turned to find her at the top of the steps, waving and pointing with my daughter on her hip. When Kara saw me, her little face lit up, and her smile sent a chemical ripple through my heart: goosebumps of a different kind. Oh, my girl. My face smiled all by itself. ‘Hi, baby!’ I waved back and blew her a kiss. ‘Mummy’s home!’ I’d missed her so much. I would never leave her again, not ever.

Kara’s gummy grin faltered. Her chin wobbled. Then she screwed up her eyes, opened her mouth and screamed blue murder.

Okay, maybe not never.

I turned back to Kit. ‘Sorry, I can’t do this now.’

‘Alex, wait—’

‘I have to go.’

‘Just listen—’

‘Kit, stop.’ I wanted so much to hear the rest of what he had to say, and I wanted every word of it to be true, but what if it wasn’t? I couldn’t drag my family into yet another mess. ‘Please. It’s just too hard.’

Kit looked away. He put my bags down and let out a slow breath. ‘It doesn’t have to be,’ he said, gently. ‘You know that, right?’

I hesitated, studying his face, trying to read him … and then Kara screamed so loudly that we both flinched.

Shaking my head, I picked up the Christmas tree again. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I think it’s best if we just don’t.’

I trudged up the steps and returned to my kids.


‘I don’t understand,’ said Jenny once we were back inside the unit. ‘She’s been good as gold all afternoon. No tears, not even a whinge.’

‘Oh, she likes to save it all up for me, don’t you, darling?’ I bounced Kara up and down, stroked her head, tried to get her to cuddle into me, but she stiffened and bucked away from me. ‘Has she had much to eat?’