Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(81)

“—was finding it harder to get in on time in the mornings. On Sunday nights, she’d always be really flat,” Rohan was saying to Raco. “I know a lot of people feel like that, ahead of Mondays, but this was every single week.”

Kim, Falk could tell immediately. They were talking quietly, Raco leaning over his plate to listen, and Falk had to strain to hear.

“Was the problem that job specifically?” Raco said. “The people she was working with, maybe? Or was it work in general?”

“In general, as far as I could tell. She complained about her boss sometimes, and I wondered for a while if she was being bullied even, but then I met her colleagues at a work drinks thing and that didn’t seem to be the case, either. They were nice enough, all looked to get along.” Rohan paused to pass another strawberry to Zoe, who was smearing them over her high chair tray. “The best I could get out of Kim was that the work was too stressful.”

“But she used to run her own business here,” Raco said. “That was the same work, wasn’t it? Graphic design and logos and things?”

“Yeah, exactly the same.” Rohan nodded. “But this carried on for a while, and finally she said she wasn’t happy and wanted to leave. We ran the numbers, decided it would be okay. So she did.”

“It’s just that she kept it quiet that she’d left work. Naomi said she found out by accident.”

“She didn’t tell Naomi?” Rohan glanced across the room in surprise. Naomi was by the buffet, examining the open bottles of wine. A small frown reached his eyes. “I thought she had.”

A burst of laughter erupted from the end of the table, and Falk looked over to where Zara was sitting between Charlie and her grandmother. They were crowded around a computer tablet, looking at photos.

“I feel like I’m going to regret asking, but what’s so funny over there?” Ben called.

“Just some of these pictures Zara’s found.” Charlie was wiping his eyes in mirth. “There are a couple of classic ones of you at Halloween. Hang on—” He moved his finger over the screen, then turned the tablet so they could all see Ben dressed up in the same matching waistcoat and hat as his own toy rabbit.

“I’m going to get a photo book printed up,” Zara said. “As a christening thing, but for us all, really.”

“Well, a little discretion would be rewarded, if you know what I mean,” Ben said, ostentatiously rolling a single dollar coin across the table to Zara.

“Ben, I’m seventeen.” She laughed and rolled it back. “You’d have needed more than that ten years ago.”

“Oh, this is a very cute one of you, Zara.” Diane was still scrolling through, and Zara looked over as her grandmother stopped and turned the screen.

“No, that’s not me, Nan.”

Diane peered through her glasses. “That? That’s you. Look at your lovely hair. With your mum.”

A momentary hush fell over the table at the passing mention of Kim, and Diane hesitated. The screen was still facing outward, and Falk could see the picture was indeed of Kim, with a newborn baby in her arms. She was smiling at the camera, but her skin looked greasy and she had dark circles under her eyes.

“No, Nan. That baby Mum’s holding is Zoe.” Zara pointed across the table to the toddler now banging a spoon against her plate.

“Really?” Diane laughed. “That’s Zoe as a baby? My goodness, it goes to show. She could be any one of you grandkids in that photo. Or the boys. She’s got that same suspicious look you all had. I used to call it the Raco gaze.”

There was a sharp pocket of silence.

“But Zoe’s not a Raco, Nan. She’s Mum and Rohan’s—”

“Yep, thanks, Zara. I am aware,” Diane said, the implications of what she’d said clearly not lost on her. “I mean, that’s obvious. Look at those gorgeous blond curls she has now.” She waved a hand toward Zoe in a half-hearted attempt at doddery foolishness, then sighed. “Oh, for God’s sake. Look, ignore me. At my age every new baby looks like a goblin in a onesie. Anyway, she’s clearly Rohan’s.”

Diane was right about that, Falk thought. Now, at least. The fine dark baby hair on Zoe’s head in the photo had been shed at some point over the past twelve months and regrown into the beginnings of sandy waves. Her eyes were still brown but not as dark as they appeared on-screen. The child’s face had taken shape as she’d grown and, faux Raco gaze or not, Zoe was now very much the image of Rohan, who at that moment had his arms crossed and was staring hard at the table.

“Diane,” Rita said, getting up. “Speaking of grandchildren, why don’t you come outside and we’ll get a few nice photos with baby Henry.”

“Yes,” Diane said, rising. “I think I better had.”

There was a beat of silence as she left, then Charlie laughed.

“Christ, do I even need to say this?” He stood. “No, I’m not even going to—”

He stretched over the remains of lunch, plates clattering, and offered his hand to Rohan. There was a loaded moment, then Rohan took it, his jaw relaxing a little. He looked embarrassed more than anything.

“You knew Kim,” Charlie said, still gripping the man’s hand. “You know she wouldn’t. I might.” A flicker of a smile. “But Kim would never.”