For Your Own Protection(17)
‘I am.’
Matt laughed. ‘And modest.’
‘Yes, I am. Daddy, would you like to come with us, on the plane, to Australia?’
Matt tried to bite his tongue. ‘I won’t be able to, Charlie.’
‘Oh! Why not? You’d like it, in Australia.’
‘I don’t think I’m invited.’
‘Yes, you are! You are invited, Daddy! Please come with us. It’ll be great!’
Matt couldn’t bear puncturing his son’s excitement, but he also didn’t want to lie. ‘We’ll see what happens.’
‘Australia is brilliant! There’s beaches, and sharks, and kangaroos that hop, hop, hop, hop! And cola bears.’
‘Koala bears.’
‘Yes, cola bears.’
Who has been telling him all this?
‘Matt.’ He hadn’t noticed Beth had come back downstairs. He wasn’t sure how long she had been standing there at the door, but it was obviously long enough, judging by the look on her face. ‘Can I have a word for a minute?’
‘Sure.’
The Thomas movie’s end credits were rolling. Charlie slid off the sofa and began playing with his Lego bricks. ‘I’m going to build a plane, Daddy, to take us all to Australia!’
‘That’s good, honey, you have a play while I just speak with Daddy. We’ll only be next door, in the hallway.’ Beth looked like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.
‘I’m sorry, Matt,’ she said, in a hushed voice. ‘I’m really sorry about all that. I know it must be difficult. I do understand.’
‘You’ve been talking to him about Australia. Before anything has been decided.’
Beth flushed again.
Matt pressed home his advantage, although he wasn’t particularly enjoying making Beth squirm. ‘Before you told me?’
She shook her head. ‘It was James. I told him not to say anything to Charlie before we had a chance to speak with you, and to decide whether this was something we really wanted to go for. But a couple of weeks ago, we were talking in the house, and Charlie overheard a few things. You know what he’s like. He started asking questions about Australia. I think they’d done something in school about the countries of the world where they’d mentioned it, so he was interested. Later that day, James told him we might be going to visit, and he’s been asking questions ever since. I had a right go at James about it, told him he shouldn’t have mentioned anything – that he should have waited, and left it to me or you to explain things to Charlie. I’m sorry, Matt.’
‘Charlie doesn’t know it’s not just for a holiday?’
‘No.’
‘He invited me to come along.’
‘I know. I heard.’
Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘This is terrible. Just terrible.’
‘I’m sorry, Matt. I really am.’
‘Not sorry enough to change your mind though?’
Just then James entered the house, newspaper under his arm. ‘Oh, hello, Matt. I thought . . .’
‘I might be gone by now?’
‘Well, yes.’ He looked at both of them, caught mid-conversation in the hallway, with a slight air of suspicion.
‘We were just talking about what Matt had planned for today,’ Beth said, also picking up on James’s reaction.
James smiled tightly at Matt. ‘Anything nice?’
Matt had to admit it felt good to be part of the mini-conspiracy. ‘Park and swimming.’
‘Great,’ he said, seeming totally uninterested. ‘Sounds great.’
‘We’d better go,’ Beth said, noticing the time. ‘We’re supposed to be meeting the guy in twenty minutes. Matt, are you okay to see yourself out?’
‘But—’ James began.
‘It’s fine,’ Beth interrupted. ‘Matt knows his way around, don’t you, Matt?’
Matt had to fight hard not to smile. He exchanged a knowing glance with Beth. ‘We’ll be fine.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
The night had been like all the others since Alex’s death.
Rachel had slept for only three of the six hours she had lain in bed. The early morning in particular had passed painfully slowly while her mind spun with visions of the funeral and thoughts of her conversation with Michael.
She showered and pottered around the flat. It was good that work had been so keen for her to take compassionate leave, but maybe being busy, losing herself in her job, would have been better. Sure, colleagues would have found it weird (and no doubt uncomfortable) for her to appear in the office just a day after his death, but so what?
After an hour of trying but failing to get on with some housework – as if vacuuming the living-room carpet was important under the circumstances – she decided to escape the flat. It was another gloriously sunny day, casting a brightness on anything and everything that in no way matched Rachel’s mood. There was solar-powered happiness all around. Yet she longed for it to rain so she could hide under her umbrella and cry.
As Rachel neared her destination on Camden High Street – her favourite bookshop, Page One – she felt utterly alone. As she entered the store, she gratefully inhaled the comforting smell of ageing paper. She had first visited the bookshop just a couple of days after arriving in London. She’d been finding things tough – suddenly transported to an unfamiliar continent, with an unfamiliar culture and unfamiliar accent. She’d been wandering around Camden, pondering how many days she’d last before jumping on the next plane home, when she’d noticed the window display. It had appealed immediately.