apologetically. ‘Maybe we should wait for Daddy to get home.’
Rory groaned. ‘No, Mum,’ he said, ‘I need it now. I need to get my application off, like, yesterday. We’ve booked our flights. We’re going in two months.’
‘Going?’ she said absent-mindedly.
‘Spain. I told you. Me and Kayleigh. Going to Spain, for a month.’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ She tutted loudly.
‘Why are you tutting?’
‘Oh –’ she wrapped her hand around the back of her neck – ‘I just don’t get it. I don’t understand what the attraction is.
Going away
.’ She tutted again and laughed under her breath, as if
going away
was some kind of oddball pastime.
‘Everyone does it, you know? It’s perfectly normal.’
‘Oh, I
know
that, silly. Of course it’s normal. It’s just, when you’ve got this –’ she gestured around her – ‘and that –’ she gestured at the window – ‘and all the people you love, why would you want to go anywhere else? All that faffing, and packing and unpacking and sleeping in a strange bed and not seeing the people you know when you go to the shops …’ She shuddered delicately. Then she lookedaround the room again and said, ‘Well, darling, you’re welcome to see what you can unearth in here, but frankly, I’d rather wait for Daddy. He’s much more organised than me. And you know, it might not even be in here. It could be anywhere. Anywhere at all. And I really need to get back to the little ones now. We’re making pasta necklaces.’
Her body language was all directed away from Rory and away from this hellhole of a room. He was about to move out of the way to let her past when he felt something rise up through him, a question he’d never realised he wanted to ask before, but one that suddenly felt like the most important question in the world.
‘Why do you never want to talk about the past?’
‘What?’
‘You. You never talk about the past. Or the future.’
‘I live in the moment, darling, didn’t you know that? It’s the secret of true happiness.’
‘Yes, but …’ He paused. ‘But you’re not happy.’
‘Not happy?’ She blinked at him with her big owlish eyes.
‘No. Not happy.’
‘What on earth are you talking about, darling? I’m deliriously happy.’
‘How can you be?’ he asked, a hint of anger in his voice. ‘How can you be happy?’
‘Because of everything I have. All my blessings.’
‘But …
Rhys
.’
Her smile froze.
‘He was your baby. Your special one. You didn’t cry at his funeral. You don’t visit his grave. You don’t even haveany photos of him on display. It’s like … it’s like he never existed.’
She narrowed her eyes at him and growled. ‘This is
her
, isn’t it? This is that girl.’
‘Kayleigh?’
‘Yes, her. She’s changed you.’
‘Yes, she has. For the better.’
‘No, I mean, she’s made you hard, like her.’
‘She’s not hard.’
‘Oh, darling, sweetie-boy, of course she is.’
‘What, because of the way she looks, you mean?’
‘Well, partly, yes, but it’s her aura, too. She has no soft edges. None at all. Vicky noticed that, too …’
‘Urgh,’ said Rory. ‘Vicky, Vicky, bloody fucking
Vicky
.’
‘Darling, horrible language. I thought we were having a civilised chat. Don’t be base. I assume that’s more of
her
influence.’
‘No. I’ve always used bad language. Just not in front of you. Because I had too much respect for you.’
‘And now?’
He shrugged. ‘I can’t respect someone who doesn’t respect the memory of her dead child.’
She looked at him then, a terrible haunted look, a look that Rory would never forget as long as he lived and said, ‘Don’t you
ever
talk to me like that again.’
For a moment he thought she was going to slap him. But she didn’t. Instead she shoved him roughly out of her way and left the room.
Rory’s dad found the birth certificate two days later. It was in a carrier bag full of disposable bendy straws in
Rory groaned. ‘No, Mum,’ he said, ‘I need it now. I need to get my application off, like, yesterday. We’ve booked our flights. We’re going in two months.’
‘Going?’ she said absent-mindedly.
‘Spain. I told you. Me and Kayleigh. Going to Spain, for a month.’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ She tutted loudly.
‘Why are you tutting?’
‘Oh –’ she wrapped her hand around the back of her neck – ‘I just don’t get it. I don’t understand what the attraction is.
Going away
.’ She tutted again and laughed under her breath, as if
going away
was some kind of oddball pastime.
‘Everyone does it, you know? It’s perfectly normal.’
‘Oh, I
know
that, silly. Of course it’s normal. It’s just, when you’ve got this –’ she gestured around her – ‘and that –’ she gestured at the window – ‘and all the people you love, why would you want to go anywhere else? All that faffing, and packing and unpacking and sleeping in a strange bed and not seeing the people you know when you go to the shops …’ She shuddered delicately. Then she lookedaround the room again and said, ‘Well, darling, you’re welcome to see what you can unearth in here, but frankly, I’d rather wait for Daddy. He’s much more organised than me. And you know, it might not even be in here. It could be anywhere. Anywhere at all. And I really need to get back to the little ones now. We’re making pasta necklaces.’
Her body language was all directed away from Rory and away from this hellhole of a room. He was about to move out of the way to let her past when he felt something rise up through him, a question he’d never realised he wanted to ask before, but one that suddenly felt like the most important question in the world.
‘Why do you never want to talk about the past?’
‘What?’
‘You. You never talk about the past. Or the future.’
‘I live in the moment, darling, didn’t you know that? It’s the secret of true happiness.’
‘Yes, but …’ He paused. ‘But you’re not happy.’
‘Not happy?’ She blinked at him with her big owlish eyes.
‘No. Not happy.’
‘What on earth are you talking about, darling? I’m deliriously happy.’
‘How can you be?’ he asked, a hint of anger in his voice. ‘How can you be happy?’
‘Because of everything I have. All my blessings.’
‘But …
Rhys
.’
Her smile froze.
‘He was your baby. Your special one. You didn’t cry at his funeral. You don’t visit his grave. You don’t even haveany photos of him on display. It’s like … it’s like he never existed.’
She narrowed her eyes at him and growled. ‘This is
her
, isn’t it? This is that girl.’
‘Kayleigh?’
‘Yes, her. She’s changed you.’
‘Yes, she has. For the better.’
‘No, I mean, she’s made you hard, like her.’
‘She’s not hard.’
‘Oh, darling, sweetie-boy, of course she is.’
‘What, because of the way she looks, you mean?’
‘Well, partly, yes, but it’s her aura, too. She has no soft edges. None at all. Vicky noticed that, too …’
‘Urgh,’ said Rory. ‘Vicky, Vicky, bloody fucking
Vicky
.’
‘Darling, horrible language. I thought we were having a civilised chat. Don’t be base. I assume that’s more of
her
influence.’
‘No. I’ve always used bad language. Just not in front of you. Because I had too much respect for you.’
‘And now?’
He shrugged. ‘I can’t respect someone who doesn’t respect the memory of her dead child.’
She looked at him then, a terrible haunted look, a look that Rory would never forget as long as he lived and said, ‘Don’t you
ever
talk to me like that again.’
For a moment he thought she was going to slap him. But she didn’t. Instead she shoved him roughly out of her way and left the room.
Rory’s dad found the birth certificate two days later. It was in a carrier bag full of disposable bendy straws in
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