‘I don’t know,’ Rob said. ‘Daddoesn’t know, or so he says.’
‘Presumably your mum must know?’
‘She’s gone loopy, apparently,’ Rob said. ‘Dementia. So…’
‘And he can’t open the box and have a look?’
‘He could,’ Rob said, starting to sound irritated again. ‘But he won’t. And don’t ask why he won’t – please don’t ask me that – because other than the fact he’s a dick, I don’t know.’
‘Could he maybe send it, then? Couldn’t he just post it to you? How big it is, anyway?’
‘Jesus!’ Rob said. ‘It’s like having the exact same conversation twice. I didn’t enjoy it much first time round.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, actually feeling a bit tearful because of his snappy tone. I reached for my book and opened it at the bookmark, but then changed my mind and snapped it shut. ‘You know, the only reason I have to ask you all these questions is because you don’t just tell me what happened like any normal person would.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe I’m not,’ Rob said, rolling away from me.
‘Not what?’ I asked as he clicked off his bedside light.
‘A normal person,’ he said. ‘Good night.’
* * *
‘I’m going to go up there and get it,’ Rob announced. It was seven the next morning and I wasn’t yet awake enough to eat breakfast.
‘I’m sorry?’ I answered, then, ‘Oh! The box?’
Rob nodded. He looked glum. ‘It’s probably full of shit – old clothes or something. But if I don’t go, I’ll never know. And Dad being Dad, hewillbin it.’
‘He probably just wants to see you,’ I said. ‘That’s what it sounds like to me. He’s using it as a hostage.’
‘Maybe,’ Rob said. ‘Subconsciously, maybe, at any rate.’ He took his tea off to the office then, leaving me to drink my coffee and come to. I’d had a night of Lucy-themed nightmares, and felt as if I’d been running through junkie-filled squats for a week.
Rob returned half an hour later and poured himself a mug of coffee before he sat down. ‘Will you be OK on your own with Lucy?’
‘When?’ I asked.
‘It takes a whole day to get there, and another one to get back, that’s the thing. So I’ll probably be gone two or three days.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Where the hell are they? The Outer Hebrides?’
‘Wales,’ Rob said. ‘But North Wales. It’s not so easy to get to from here. It’s about an eight-hour drive.’
‘Train?’ I offered. ‘Plane, maybe?’
Rob shook his head. ‘Even worse,’ he said. ‘Nine hours instead of eight. And about a thousand different changeovers on the way. Now you know why I’ve never taken you to meet the in-laws.’
‘Um, I don’t think it was because of the long drive,’ I said.
‘No,’ Rob admitted. ‘Probably true.’
‘Do youwantto see them, then?’ I asked. ‘Is that why?’ Something about the journey he was planning didn’t make sense.
‘No,’ Rob said. ‘No, I really don’t.’
‘Not even a tiny bit? Not even after all these years?’
He shook his head solemnly. ‘Not even a tiny bit. Not even the weeniest bit.’
