For Your Own Protection(16)

‘Just be careful,’ Beth said softly from behind Matt’s shoulder, trying to avoid Charlie hearing. ‘I’m not sure about that thing. If he falls off . . .’

‘I won’t fall off, Mummy!’ Charlie replied. He had the hearing of a bat. ‘I promise I won’t fall off.’

‘Okay,’ Beth conceded. ‘Just make sure you take care,’ she added, directing her comment at Matt more than their son.

‘We will,’ Matt reassured her.

Matt took a seat next to Charlie, who smiled and shuffled over. On screen, Thomas the Tank Engine was talking with his friend, the green engine Percy. Matt had seen this movie more times than he cared to remember, so he knew at a glance that there were only about five minutes left. The film brought back painful memories of the three of them, happy together, before it all fell apart.

‘Are you okay if I just nip upstairs?’ Beth said. ‘Just got to finish off my make-up.’

‘Of course.’ Matt turned to Charlie. ‘We’re okay, aren’t we?’

Charlie nodded enthusiastically.

‘Off anywhere nice?’ Matt said. She had been uncharacteristically cagey about her and James’s day.

Beth hesitated. ‘We’re going to see someone, about our plans.’

‘About Australia.’

‘Yes.’ She flushed.

Matt had always found that extremely attractive.

He was thinking of a reply when Charlie jumped in before him. ‘Australia! I love Austrayliaaa! We’re going there, Daddy, on a big plane, do you know that?’

He couldn’t find the words as his stomach went into free fall.

‘Honey,’ Beth said. ‘Why don’t you tell Daddy about what you did at school this week, while I go upstairs for a few minutes.’

Matt chewed on his lip and resisted the temptation to throw an accusing glance at Beth. ‘What have you been up to, Charlie?’

‘Nothing.’ Charlie was typical of most four-year-olds. Most of what happened at school stayed at school. But he could be cajoled and coaxed if he was in the right mood.

‘C’mon, Charlie. You can tell Daddy,’ said Beth over her shoulder as she headed upstairs.

‘I made that,’ he said, pointing over at a piece of paper on the table.

‘A painting? Let me take a look.’ Matt reached across and took in the splashes of bright colour. He could make out some smiling faces among the technicolour splodges. ‘Nice faces. Who are these people? Your friends from school?’

‘Nah!’

‘Who are they then?’ Matt could make out three faces. ‘Is one of them you? That one there, with spiky orange hair and red eyes. Looks just like you.’

Charlie giggled. ‘Daddy, you’re so funny!’

‘Glad to hear it.’

He was back to watching the film.

‘C’mon, tell me who they are then.’

Charlie let out a dramatic sigh of exasperation, then jabbed at the crinkly paper. ‘Me, Mummy, and James.’

‘Right . . .’

‘Going to the airport – to Australia.’

‘Okay.’

‘And there’s you,’ Charlie added, pointing to the far side of the painting. ‘You’re at the airport too, but you’re not coming on the plane with us. That’s why you’re sad.’

There was a face he hadn’t noticed, looking on from afar. That face, an impressionist representation of him, was wearing a frown. Matt felt a lump in his throat, and for one horrible moment he thought he might burst into tears. He tried desperately to hold back the rising river of sadness.

Oblivious to his father’s torment, Charlie continued enthusiastically. ‘Do you know, Daddy, Australia is very far away. You get there on a plane. You can go there by boat, but it takes a long, long time, so you go there by aeroplane. The plane goes whoooosh!’ He demonstrated the take-off using one of his hands. Matt watched in horror at the spark of excitement in Charlie’s eyes. ‘I’m a bit scared of heights, Daddy. That’s why I’m going to sit in the middle of the plane, just in case. I’m not going to look out of the window. No, it’s too high. Daddy, if there are clouds in the sky, can the plane hit them?’

Matt ran his hands through his son’s brown hair and swallowed down his feelings. ‘No, the plane flies straight through the clouds. It goes through them and then there’s blue sky above, and the clouds below. So it looks like you’re floating on top of the clouds.’

‘Wow. Have you been on a plane, Daddy?’

‘Lots of times.’

‘Cool! Did you like it?’

‘Yes, it’s pretty cool. You know, one time, we were flying right over London, and I saw Big Ben.’

‘Big Ben?! That’s cool! I like Big Ben.’

Matt squeezed Charlie. ‘I know you do. Do you remember the day we went on the boat, on the river, and we sailed straight past Big Ben just as it was boinging?’

Charlie laughed. ‘Yes! Yes! It was boinging! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve.’

‘You’re right. Twelve o’clock. There’s nothing wrong with your memory, little man.’

‘I remember that, Daddy.’

‘I know, you’re good.’