‘I have, believe me, I’ve been getting texts. And from Sam too, who’s really going for thepawning them off with a babysitterline, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’
‘That’s twice. Look, I get it, she was within her rights to be annoyed. She was pretty tough about it, but why didn’t you just level with her?’
There was a pause she recognised – it felt exactly like his son’s.
‘It’s really not that simple.’
‘You’re scared of her. Don’t worry, I get it.’
It was true, Cassie realised, she still had the knot in her stomach, even though she’d handled herself in the moment.
‘I recognise that as a modus operandi: scare the wits out of someone then be sweet to them afterwards so they’re grateful and compliant.’
‘Look, I’ve got to go, we’re finishing up here. I’ll be back within an hour, max.’
‘Fine.’
She looked back towards the sitting-room door from which a small crack of light was falling on the ground like a folded fan. Poor kid was in there, straining his ears, trying to make sense of it all.
* * *
His bedtime routine seemed to last forever, with an elaborate ritual for brushing his teeth – one hundred strokes – then tapping the basin with his toothbrush fifty times, then counting each of the bathroom tiles as he touched them.
‘Ninety-two. That’s a nice even number.’
Cassie nodded, surprised by her own patience.
At the bedroom door, he baulked. From inside, Cici’s steady breathing was audible.
‘Cassie, I can’t go in unless you check.’
‘Under the .?.?.?’
He nodded. She crept in and looked under the bed; there was nothing but a stray shoe. She raised her thumb, and he made a dash for the ladder, clambered up and burrowed under the duvet.
‘Cassie,’ he hissed, ‘will you be hanging out with us again?’
‘I don’t know, why?’
‘So, we’ll have time to playNuclear Zombieagain?’
‘Would you like that?’
‘Yeah. We could change the setting up to normal difficulty because I could definitely do that. And then we could turn off auto-lock for enemies.’
‘Sounds like a great idea, Con, but I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be back.’ No point in lying to the poor kid. ‘I would like to, though. Maybe ask your dad?’
‘My dad is always busy working or .?.?. just busy.’
That was interesting.
‘We’ll see, night night.’
Here she was, like every adult that had ever palmed off a child with some empty platitude. Con struggled to relate to people and he’d chosen to trust her. She knew how fragile trust could be.
She crept back into the sitting room to find, to her horror, Thor contentedly chewing on the strap of Ramona’s shoe – thankfully, he was only getting started. She wrestled it from him then curled up on the sofa, trying to breathe. Nothing felt more attractive at that moment than a cold glass of white wine, but she was driving so that was out of the question, dammit.
Shortly afterwards, she heard the key and Finn put his head around the door. He was noticeably more relaxed than earlier.
