“It’s close enough to—”
This time I put an arm around her shoulders, steering her towards the student carpark. “I’ll drive you.”
Evie’s back is rigid, then she softens and nods. “Okay. Thank you.” She starts walking, shooting me tiny, concerned glances. “Sorry if I ruined your day.”
“You are the only thing worth a damn about my day.” I hesitate to ask, given her nervousness, but curiosity wins out. “Have you been in Ms Kaihe’s class before? When you last attended?”
“No.”
“How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Solve the problem so quickly.”
She stares at me, as baffled by the question as I am by her ability. “You told me how to solve it.”
“Why did you drop out of school? You belong here far more than I do.”
We reach the vehicle and I beep the door open, feeling the loss as she escapes from my embrace to get into the passenger seat. I pass her the envelope from Ms Kaihe, then start the car. I’m paused in the driveway, waiting for a break in the traffic before she answers.
“My last foster family were on a farm, and we were miles from anywhere, so they switched to the distance learning curriculum.” Then she wrinkles her nose. “But they mostly taught me how to do chores.”
“Yeah? Did you like it there?”
She faces the window, hiding her expression. “I liked the animals. There was a grumpy goat I used to milk. She was my favourite.” There’s a short pause, followed by a sigh. “I wasn’t much good at the rest of the stuff. I wouldn’t mind owning one, one day.”
“A farm?”
Evie bursts into laughter. “No. A goat. I’ll never be able to afford a farm.” She pinches a pleat on her kilt where it falls over her knee. “Can I come to school again, tomorrow? I only work nights, so I’m free during the day.”
Her cheeks are flushed with enthusiasm and her eyes sparkle. She’s vibrant and I hate to tear my eyes away to focus on the road.
“I’d really enjoy that.” I consider telling her she doesn’t work nights, not for the next month at least, but figure I can keep that under wraps for a few days more.
Now would be the perfect time to tell her about the fire, the injuries, the police investigation. How I’d appreciate if she kept quiet about all of it.
The words are right there, just waiting to be said.
And they’re still waiting when we pull up outside her flat. I help her with the bags of shopping from this morning, carrying them up the staircase to hand back outside her apartment door. She tilts her face to me, reading my expression and my hands tingle, even though I’m not touching her, like the memory of her is embedded in my skin as much as my brain.
Curiosity swells and I cup her shoulder, an urge to get closer makes me bend to press a platonic kiss against her temple, the gentle touch even more electric, my lips buzzing. “See you tomorrow.”
She nods but appears dazed as I leave, trotting lightly down the stairs, whistling as I walk out the rear door and circle around to my car.
A kid playing near the kerb makes a monster face at me, hooking his fingers into dramatic claws. I make a face back, towering over him and roaring until he squeals with laughter, running through the gate back to his front door when his mother hollers at him to ‘leave the nice man alone.’
Nice man.
I sit behind the wheel, the tingle on my lips fading. A memory shouts at me from the darkness.You’re nothing.
Icy cold fingers wrap around my skull, squeezing until my eyes water. I start the car, wiping at my mouth, welcoming the distraction of activity as I pull into the road.
At home,Vale waits in the driveway, leaning with studied casualness against his metallic green Rolls Royce. I wave as I pass by, parking in the garage and escaping back through the door before it rumbles to a close.
“You have something new for me?” I call out as I walk to greet him, shaking his small dry hand.
He’s meticulously put together as always. At five eight, he’s half a foot shorter but projects the aura of a taller man. The neat three-piece suit he wears is fastidiously tailored; the crisp lines augmented with a thin row of top stitching that means it always falls exactly how it should. It’s not my style but I envy the old-fashioned aura, complete down to the pocket square folded into a neat triangle in his breast pocket.
