‘Oh, that’s a shame. Do you ever regret leaving?’
‘Sometimes, yes.’ It was a knee-jerk reaction. I’d lost faith in the hospital and the people I was working with. ‘You know what they say about a few bad apples spoiling the pie, or whatever it is.’ I laugh.
He raises his eyebrows. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Anyway, things happen for a reason. If I’d stayed I might not have met Charlie or had Rufus, so …’ I lift my shoulders.
He grins and playfully punches Rufus’s shoulder. ‘With a bit more practice he’ll be great.’
Rufus looks up eagerly, flushing with pride. ‘Really?’
‘Totally. You’ve got talent, mate. You’ll pick it up in no time.’ He lugs his guitar case onto his shoulder. ‘Anyway, see you on Friday, Rufus.’ He heads for the door.
I nudge Rufus and whisper under my breath, ‘Go and show him out.’
Rufus hands me his guitar and leaps up. I can hear them talking by the front door. When five minutes pass and Rufus doesn’t return, I go into the hallway. He’s left the door open but he’s not in the front garden. I pop my head out, glancing up and down the street. Henry is back to washing his car and Rufus is standing beside him, admiring the Jag. I shrink back into the hallway, but only enough so that I can still observe them without being seen.
There’s no getting around it. Whatever the truth, I don’t trust Henry. And I don’t like him being friendly to my son.
‘Thanks, Henry,’ I hear Rufus saying. ‘I’ll take you up on that. Bye.’ He strides back towards the house and I dart into the kitchen and start unloading the dishwasher. I hear the front door slam and Rufus reappears.
‘I was just talking to Henry,’ he says affably, sticking his hands into his pockets. ‘He’s got a cool car and said he’d take me out for a drive in it.’
I blanch. Over my dead body, I think, but I don’t say as much to Rufus.
‘But it reminds me,’ he continues. ‘The sounds you recorded for me the other day, well … I listened to the tapes at college earlier and I heard voices. Was it them next door?’
I’d forgotten to erase that part of the tape before I gave it back to Rufus. I explain how I’d accidentally picked up their conversation. ‘But I stopped recording as soon as I discovered it.’
‘I was in a rush to get my assignment completed so couldn’t make it all out, but what were they on about? It sounded a bit odd.’
I reach for my phone. ‘I can play it to you again – I recorded it from your tape. It’s not great, as I only managed to get it by placing my phone next to the sound system’s speaker.’
‘Okay. Sure.’
I play it and shudder as their voices ring out, sounding tinny.
‘… I don’t know, Mari …’
‘You promised me you’d take her. I’ve got everything ready. The room …’
‘I know … but … after what happened before … should we really try again?’
A long pause. Rustling.‘… we have no choice …’
I press stop on my phone and look at Rufus. He’s staring at me questioningly.
He sits back in the chair and rests his ankle on the opposite knee. He’s still got his trainers on.
‘Don’t tell me you think they’re, like, spies or something? I agree it’s a bit odd, but this isn’tArlington Road.’ He chuckles at his own joke. We’d watched the film together a few months ago; it’s about a college lecturer who specializes in terrorism and his growing paranoia that his neighbours are about to bomb a government building.
‘All right. I know. I’m not saying that.’
‘They could be talking about taking a relative somewhere.’ He frowns.
‘But what about the other stuff I heard? I didn’t record it, but they talked about a plan and it being too risky and that they were worried about getting caught. That’s not talking about a relative coming to stay, Ruf.’
‘Shame you didn’t record that bit,’ he says, standing up, his attention already waning, his fingers no doubt itching to get back on his phone or strum the guitar. He goes to the fridge and grabs a carton of orange juice. ‘Real life is more boring than the movies.’ There’s a mournful tone to his voice.
