you? If not someone on the plane will help you. I’ve texted you Xeno’s address and phone number. You’re booked on the return flight on Monday. Call me if there are any problems. Better go—plane leaves in an hour.”
—
And then everything happened in slow motion and too fast.
—
MiMi and Pauline driving to the house in Little Venice.
MiMi running from room to room, shouting LEO! LEO!
Milo on his own at Pauline’s when the phone rang and it was Tony.
Milo heard the answer machine: “Pauline, it’s Tony. I can’t go to Kew today. I’m on my way to the airport. Sorry.”
Milo called Pauline to tell her. He could hear his mother in the background. “Why is Tony at the airport?”
Milo put down the phone.
There was a man lived in an airport
.
Soon after, the doorbell rang. It was Leo.
“Mummy’s looking for you,” said Milo.
“We’re going away for a few days. To Munich. See Granddad.”
“Is Mummy coming?”
“No.”
“I’ll stay here, I think,” said Milo.
Leo was angry. “We’re going together. I’ve packed for you. Get whatever you want from here—not too much—and come on.”
In the car Milo was silent. Then he said, “Where’s Perdita?”
“She’s fine.”
Leo had booked a flight to Berlin. He wasn’t planning to see his father. He just wanted to get away. And when they got back, MiMi would have realised that everything was for the best.
But MiMi had already called the police to say that her husband was trying to leave the country with their baby.
“I don’t see how Tony’s involved,” said Pauline. “His phone’s going straight to voicemail.”
—
Leo was in the queue at Passport Control. The man checking documents asked him to stand aside a moment. The next thing he knew, three policemen were asking what he’d done with the baby.
Then it happened.
Leo arguing with the police. The police arguing with Leo. All big guys. All at the same height. The little Indian passport-checker was trying to pretend that nothing was happening as he processed other people coming through, all staring at Leo.
The police were confused because Leo had no baby. Leo said his wife had post-natal depression. He was taking their son on holiday to give her a break. The police looked at Milo’s passport—is this your father? Yes.
The big guys went back to arguing—no one cared about Milo.
There was a man lived in an airport.
Milo moved steadily, quietly backwards, away from them, their backs to him in an angry circle. No one would notice.
Milo was round the corner and going towards the security lanes. There was a family over in Lane Four. He ran over to them—if anyone saw him they thought he was just catching up. He put his backpack on the metal conveyor belt. He walked through the metal detector. He looked round. He was in the airport. Maybe he could find Tony.
Tony was in New Bohemia.
He liked the palm trees planted down the middle of the roads. He wondered if there was a botanical gardens. He had a free day tomorrow before his flight.
The sky was low and overcast. The heat was as close and intense as a sauna. He took off his suit jacket but he didn’t loosen his tie. He didn’t want to look sloppy.
Supermoon tonight, the man at the car rental told him. She’s closer to the earth than normal—gonna be weather with her. Nice baby.
Tony got in the BMW. It was not like his Nissan. He thought he might use some of the £50,000 to buy a new car. Pauline had an Audi. She wouldn’t want to be driven about in a Nissan. He had a feeling he should have told Pauline what he was doing.
Wide freeways. Tall buildings. Billboards advertising prime-time TV shows. Square, miserable social housing hung over the fast, hostile roads. Flophouses on the outskirts of the city. Drive in for $40 a room, 2 sharing. All-u-can-eat breakfast. He idled in traffic on the bridge. The construction work covered his windscreen in cement dust like talcum powder. He could smell fried onions and
—
And then everything happened in slow motion and too fast.
—
MiMi and Pauline driving to the house in Little Venice.
MiMi running from room to room, shouting LEO! LEO!
Milo on his own at Pauline’s when the phone rang and it was Tony.
Milo heard the answer machine: “Pauline, it’s Tony. I can’t go to Kew today. I’m on my way to the airport. Sorry.”
Milo called Pauline to tell her. He could hear his mother in the background. “Why is Tony at the airport?”
Milo put down the phone.
There was a man lived in an airport
.
Soon after, the doorbell rang. It was Leo.
“Mummy’s looking for you,” said Milo.
“We’re going away for a few days. To Munich. See Granddad.”
“Is Mummy coming?”
“No.”
“I’ll stay here, I think,” said Milo.
Leo was angry. “We’re going together. I’ve packed for you. Get whatever you want from here—not too much—and come on.”
In the car Milo was silent. Then he said, “Where’s Perdita?”
“She’s fine.”
Leo had booked a flight to Berlin. He wasn’t planning to see his father. He just wanted to get away. And when they got back, MiMi would have realised that everything was for the best.
But MiMi had already called the police to say that her husband was trying to leave the country with their baby.
“I don’t see how Tony’s involved,” said Pauline. “His phone’s going straight to voicemail.”
—
Leo was in the queue at Passport Control. The man checking documents asked him to stand aside a moment. The next thing he knew, three policemen were asking what he’d done with the baby.
Then it happened.
Leo arguing with the police. The police arguing with Leo. All big guys. All at the same height. The little Indian passport-checker was trying to pretend that nothing was happening as he processed other people coming through, all staring at Leo.
The police were confused because Leo had no baby. Leo said his wife had post-natal depression. He was taking their son on holiday to give her a break. The police looked at Milo’s passport—is this your father? Yes.
The big guys went back to arguing—no one cared about Milo.
There was a man lived in an airport.
Milo moved steadily, quietly backwards, away from them, their backs to him in an angry circle. No one would notice.
Milo was round the corner and going towards the security lanes. There was a family over in Lane Four. He ran over to them—if anyone saw him they thought he was just catching up. He put his backpack on the metal conveyor belt. He walked through the metal detector. He looked round. He was in the airport. Maybe he could find Tony.
Tony was in New Bohemia.
He liked the palm trees planted down the middle of the roads. He wondered if there was a botanical gardens. He had a free day tomorrow before his flight.
The sky was low and overcast. The heat was as close and intense as a sauna. He took off his suit jacket but he didn’t loosen his tie. He didn’t want to look sloppy.
Supermoon tonight, the man at the car rental told him. She’s closer to the earth than normal—gonna be weather with her. Nice baby.
Tony got in the BMW. It was not like his Nissan. He thought he might use some of the £50,000 to buy a new car. Pauline had an Audi. She wouldn’t want to be driven about in a Nissan. He had a feeling he should have told Pauline what he was doing.
Wide freeways. Tall buildings. Billboards advertising prime-time TV shows. Square, miserable social housing hung over the fast, hostile roads. Flophouses on the outskirts of the city. Drive in for $40 a room, 2 sharing. All-u-can-eat breakfast. He idled in traffic on the bridge. The construction work covered his windscreen in cement dust like talcum powder. He could smell fried onions and
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