The Child (Kate Waters #2)(71)

? ? ?

I tell Paul I’m going to the reunion and he smiles. A proper smile, not the nervous twitch of the mouth he’s adopted recently.

“That’s great. It will do you good to go out. You spend too much time sitting at your computer. Always on your own.”

I want to tell him I’m never on my own, but I don’t.

“I spoke to Jude the other day,” he says and glances up to see how I’ll react.

“Did you?” I’m astonished and can’t hide it. “Why? Did she ring when I was out or something?”

“Well, no. Actually I rang her.”

“Rang her?” I repeat.

“I was worried about you,” he says. He’s sorry he told me, I can see it on his face.

“I wanted her advice.”

“Well, she’d be the last person I’d ask,” I say. What has she told him? The thought is rattling round my head like a runaway train. “What did she say?”

“Not much really. Except that she thought she’d upset you, talking about the past. When you went for lunch. Do you think she’s right?”

I sigh. “Well, you know I hate looking back, Paul. And we had a very difficult relationship.”

“She said she had to ask you to leave home,” Paul says, and I realize he has been working up to this. “You’ve never told me that.”

I go and sit next to him on the sofa so he can’t see my face properly. “I don’t like talking about it. It was such a horrible time. You can’t imagine. I don’t think I’ve ever got over it. I was sixteen.”

“Oh, Emma, how could they have done that? You were still a child,” he says, squeezing my cold hand. But I am back on full alert.

“They?” I say.

“Well, Jude told me her boyfriend, Will, was living with you both. I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned him, either. Too many secrets aren’t good for you, Emma. Keeping everything inside is toxic.”

And it’s as if he’s seen inside my head.

Can I tell him it all? Can I? Will he hate me for the terrible thing I did? Of course he will.

“You’re right, darling. But you know now.”

He turns my face towards him gently and holds it in both hands. “You can tell me anything, Emma, you know that.”

I lean forwards and kiss him. To show I love him. And to silence him.





FIFTY-EIGHT


    Kate


SATURDAY, APRIL 28, 2012

On the night of the do, Kate pulled up in Howard Street ridiculously early. It was only seven o’clock, but she’d got ready too quickly and had worried about running the gauntlet of her sons’ remarks about her maxi dress, slit to the thigh, and floppy hat à la Anita Ekberg.

She needn’t have done. Freddie was at the cinema with friends and Jake stayed upstairs. He was spending more and more time on the Internet in his room, planning his trip.

“I’ve found a project in Phuket,” he’d announced a couple of days earlier. His little brother had laughed.

“Is it to do with sunbathing?” Freddie had said. “I could do that, too.”

Kate had sucked in her comments and carried on laying the table.

“You’ve put the knives and forks the wrong way round,” Freddie told her and swapped them all.

“Sorry, lots on my mind,” she’d said, giving Jake a meaningful stare. He ignored it.

“Actually, it’s about coastline conservancy,” he’d said to Freddie.

“What do you know about that? You were doing law.”

“I passed my exams in biology and geography,” Jake had said. “Should be fun.”

“Well, as long as it’s fun,” Kate had muttered under her breath. But Jake had heard and taken his dinner upstairs.

Steve had gone up to talk to him when he’d got in from work.

“He’s a bit hurt you were so dismissive of his plans,” Steve had said.

“Oh, come on. Babying him and dressing the problem up in big words isn’t going to help. He’s twenty-two and he’s going to become a beach bum, Steve. He needs to be challenged.”

She was glad her dad wasn’t around to see his grandson opt out of life. He’d have had a few well-chosen words to say to Jake. He’ll be turning in his grave, she thought. Sorry, Dad.

“Okay, Kate. Let’s leave it for tonight, hey?” Steve said. “He’s coming down to watch the match with me on the telly.”

She’d sulked in the kitchen while the boys cheered and jeered the footballers, stirring a cheese sauce for a future meal until it glooped out of the pan and made a mess of the hob and she dumped the whole lot in the bin.

? ? ?

The only person who saw her outfit was Steve, who came home early that night. For a change. They’d thought with the boys practically off their hands, they’d get more time together, doing the things that people of their age did: theater, wine bars, exotic travel. But the spaces in their diaries—where the football training, the swimming practice, the lifts to gigs, and dates used to be—gaped invitingly for a brief moment and then were filled with work instead of pleasure. Kate knew it was important for Steve to build his consulting work at the hospital and never nagged. She could hardly say anything with her own ridiculous hours, anyway.