just think Grace is desperate for a dad. She’s over there right now. It’s nearly ten thirty. Mum’s waiting up for her but I needed to come to bed and cry and write this letter to you. This letter that you’ll probably never read. Tyler’s mum came tonight, you know, the one whose sister died in the garden when she was fifteen, and I wanted so badly to ask her about what happened. But obviously I couldn’t.
When are you going to get better and come home?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ten
Adele appraised Leo over the top of her reading glasses. ‘What took you so long?’
He pulled off his T-shirt and draped it across the back of a chair.
‘I wasn’t long,’ he said.
‘Yes you were,’ said Adele. ‘You’ve been gone for twenty minutes. I even called you, but you left your phone behind.’
‘I just had a cigarette,’ he said. ‘On the terrace.’
‘I looked on the terrace. About five minutes ago.’
‘Look, I took Grace home. I chatted to her mum for a few minutes …’
‘Did you go in?’ This came out more inquisitorially than she’d meant it to.
‘No, I did not go in. We just chatted at the door.’
‘And then?’
‘I came back. I had a cigarette on the terrace. I took some things through to the kitchen. I went for a pee. I checked on the girls. I came into my bedroom to be verbally abused by my wife.’
Adele frowned at him and then smiled. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I just didn’t understand where you could be. I looked everywhere.’
‘Well, clearly not, my dear.’
Adele gazed at Leo for a moment. She watched him unbutton the fly on his trousers, wriggle them down his hips, pull off his cotton boxer shorts, drop them in the linen basket. He was naked now, pulling clean pyjama bottoms from a drawer and talking about his father, how he was going to visit him in the morning and maybe one of the girls might like to come with him, it would make the old git happy, but Adele wasn’t really listening. She was reading and rereading a paragraph in Rhea’s memoir. The words were swimming about in front of her eyes; in part because she’d drunk an awful lot of wine tonight, but also because she didn’t quite believe what she was reading.
‘Leo,’ she said. ‘Is it possible that you used to go out with Cecelia and you never told me?’
He stopped, one leg in his pyjamas, one leg out. ‘What?’
‘Listen.’ She pushed her reading glasses back up her nose and began:
It is the hottest day of the summer and there is more flesh on view in the garden than grass. The Howes boys are all topless, flaunting their skinny boy bodies with their griddle chests and hairless stomachs; they tuck their hands down their waistbands and swagger about; they smoke behind trees and listen to loud music on their oversized stereos as though they are fresh from the Bronx. But they are fooling nobody apart perhaps from the Rednough girls, tiny blonde things with backcombed hair and hoop earrings who have been hanging about like lost puppies all summer, hoping for some fuss. The younger one, Cecelia, has in recent days been seen wearing a heavy gold chain that apparently belongs to Leo. And earlier today I watched her climb into his lap and hang herself around his neck and he did not seem surprised. And now they are walking together, hand in hand across the lawn, and she looks like the puppy that got the bone and he looks like he’s wondering which girl he’ll go for next.
She lowered her glasses and stared up at her husband, questioningly.
‘My God,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten about that. Ha!’
‘What do you mean you’d forgotten about it? How could you forget going out with someone who you’re still friends with?’
‘Oh, God I mean, it wasn’t really going out . It was kid stuff.’
‘But she wrote this in 1992. You were eighteen! And she was only thirteen!’
‘Well, actually I was still only seventeen.’
‘Only just, Leo!’
‘Del. Nothing happened between us. I just
When are you going to get better and come home?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Ten
Adele appraised Leo over the top of her reading glasses. ‘What took you so long?’
He pulled off his T-shirt and draped it across the back of a chair.
‘I wasn’t long,’ he said.
‘Yes you were,’ said Adele. ‘You’ve been gone for twenty minutes. I even called you, but you left your phone behind.’
‘I just had a cigarette,’ he said. ‘On the terrace.’
‘I looked on the terrace. About five minutes ago.’
‘Look, I took Grace home. I chatted to her mum for a few minutes …’
‘Did you go in?’ This came out more inquisitorially than she’d meant it to.
‘No, I did not go in. We just chatted at the door.’
‘And then?’
‘I came back. I had a cigarette on the terrace. I took some things through to the kitchen. I went for a pee. I checked on the girls. I came into my bedroom to be verbally abused by my wife.’
Adele frowned at him and then smiled. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I just didn’t understand where you could be. I looked everywhere.’
‘Well, clearly not, my dear.’
Adele gazed at Leo for a moment. She watched him unbutton the fly on his trousers, wriggle them down his hips, pull off his cotton boxer shorts, drop them in the linen basket. He was naked now, pulling clean pyjama bottoms from a drawer and talking about his father, how he was going to visit him in the morning and maybe one of the girls might like to come with him, it would make the old git happy, but Adele wasn’t really listening. She was reading and rereading a paragraph in Rhea’s memoir. The words were swimming about in front of her eyes; in part because she’d drunk an awful lot of wine tonight, but also because she didn’t quite believe what she was reading.
‘Leo,’ she said. ‘Is it possible that you used to go out with Cecelia and you never told me?’
He stopped, one leg in his pyjamas, one leg out. ‘What?’
‘Listen.’ She pushed her reading glasses back up her nose and began:
It is the hottest day of the summer and there is more flesh on view in the garden than grass. The Howes boys are all topless, flaunting their skinny boy bodies with their griddle chests and hairless stomachs; they tuck their hands down their waistbands and swagger about; they smoke behind trees and listen to loud music on their oversized stereos as though they are fresh from the Bronx. But they are fooling nobody apart perhaps from the Rednough girls, tiny blonde things with backcombed hair and hoop earrings who have been hanging about like lost puppies all summer, hoping for some fuss. The younger one, Cecelia, has in recent days been seen wearing a heavy gold chain that apparently belongs to Leo. And earlier today I watched her climb into his lap and hang herself around his neck and he did not seem surprised. And now they are walking together, hand in hand across the lawn, and she looks like the puppy that got the bone and he looks like he’s wondering which girl he’ll go for next.
She lowered her glasses and stared up at her husband, questioningly.
‘My God,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten about that. Ha!’
‘What do you mean you’d forgotten about it? How could you forget going out with someone who you’re still friends with?’
‘Oh, God I mean, it wasn’t really going out . It was kid stuff.’
‘But she wrote this in 1992. You were eighteen! And she was only thirteen!’
‘Well, actually I was still only seventeen.’
‘Only just, Leo!’
‘Del. Nothing happened between us. I just
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