Force of Nature (Aaron Falk #2)(74)

‘No, he was pretty ill by that stage. He died quite soon after. We used to look more alike.’

‘Yeah, you can really tell in this one of you as a child.’

‘I know.’ She was right. The man in the photo could be Falk himself.

‘Even if you didn’t always get on, you must miss him.’

‘Of course. I miss him a lot. He was my dad.’

‘It’s just that you haven’t put the pictures up.’

‘No. Well, I don’t really go for home decorating much.’ He tried to make a joke of it but she didn’t laugh. She watched him over her glass.

‘It’s okay to regret it, you know.’

‘What?’

‘Not being closer when you had the chance.’

He said nothing.

‘You wouldn’t be the first kid to feel that way after losing a parent.’

‘I know.’

‘Especially if you feel perhaps you could have made more of an effort.’

‘Carmen. Thank you. I know.’ Falk put his wooden spoon down and looked at her.

‘Good. I was just saying. In case you didn’t.’

He couldn’t help a small smile. ‘Remind me, are you professionally trained in psychology, or . . .?’

‘Gifted amateur.’ Her smile faded a little. ‘It’s a real shame you grew apart, though. It looks like you were happy together when you were younger.’

‘Yeah. But he was always a bit of a difficult bloke. He kept himself to himself too much.’

Carmen looked at him. ‘A bit like you, you mean?’

‘No. Far worse than me. He kept people at arm’s length. Even people he knew well. And he wasn’t a big talker so it was hard to know what he was thinking a lot of the time.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Yeah. It meant he ended up quite detached –’

‘Right.’

‘– so he never really connected that closely with anyone.’

‘My God, seriously, Aaron, are you honestly not hearing this?’

He had to smile. ‘Look, I know how it sounds, but it wasn’t like that. If we were that similar, we would have got along better. Especially after we moved to the city. We needed each other. It was difficult to settle here in those first years. I was missing our farm, our old life, but he never seemed to understand that.’

Carmen cocked her head. ‘Or maybe he did understand how hard it was, because he was finding it difficult himself, and that’s why he invited you to go hiking on the weekends.’

Falk stopped stirring the pan and stared at her.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she said. ‘You would know. I never even met him. I’m just saying that I think most parents do genuinely try to do right by their kids.’ She shrugged. ‘I mean, look at the Baileys and their dickhead kid. He can do no wrong even when it’s caught on camera. And it sounds like even a lunatic like Martin Kovac spent his last couple of years upset that his son had gone AWOL.’

Falk started stirring again and tried to think what to say. Over the past few days, the brittle image he had of his father had been slowly warping into something a little different.

‘I suppose so,’ he said finally. ‘And look, I do wish we’d done a better job of sorting things out. Of course I do. And I know I should have tried harder. I just felt like Dad never wanted to meet halfway.’

‘Again, you would know. But you’re the one with the last picture of your dying father sandwiched between two paperbacks. That doesn’t scream halfway mark to me.’ She got up and slid the photos back between the books. ‘Don’t scowl, I’ll mind my own business from now on, promise.’

‘Yeah. All right. Dinner’s ready anyway.’

‘Good. That should shut me up for a bit at least.’ She smiled until he smiled back.

Falk loaded up two plates with pasta and the rich sauce and carried them to the small table in the corner.

‘This is exactly what I needed,’ Carmen said through her first mouthful. ‘Thank you.’ She cleared a quarter of her plate before leaning back and wiping her mouth with a napkin. ‘So, do you want to talk about Alice Russell?’

‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Do you?’

Carmen shook her head. ‘Let’s talk about something else.’ She took another sip of wine. ‘Like when did your girlfriend move out?’

Falk looked up in surprise, his fork halfway to his mouth. ‘How did you know?’

Carmen gave a small laugh. ‘How do I know? Aaron, I’ve got eyes.’ She pointed to a large gap next to the couch that had once housed an armchair. ‘Either this is the most aggressively minimalist flat I’ve ever been in, or you haven’t replaced her furniture.’

He shrugged. ‘It’d be about four years ago that she left.’

‘Four years!’ Carmen put down her glass. ‘I honestly thought you were going to say four months. God knows, I’m not overly houseproud myself, but really. Four years. What are you waiting for? Do you need a lift to Ikea?’

He had to laugh. ‘No. I just never got around to replacing her stuff. I can only sit on one couch at a time.’

‘Yes, I know. But the idea is that you invite people over to your home and they sit on your other bits of furniture. I mean, it’s so weird. You haven’t got an armchair, but you’ve got –’ she pointed at a polished wooden contraption gathering dust in a corner, ‘– that. What is that, even?’