“Bullshit.” Raco had laughed and torn off a hunk of bread from the bowl beside the pasta. “Itisbloody registered, because he was moaning about the hassle a few months ago, so why’s he pretending—”
“I know! I said, ‘Ben, mate, look. Greg reckons it’s legit. I mean, you might notwantto lend out your trailer, but don’t pretend you don’thavea trailer—’”
Charlie had broken off from the argument suddenly, Falk remembered, turning as Zara had wandered into the kitchen. She had been different last year, her expression light and soft and a half smile curling as she read a message on her phone.
“Hey,” Charlie had called across the room. “What did your mum say about tonight? Did you fix another time?”
Zara had looked up at her dad in genuine surprise. “I don’t know. I thought you called her.”
“What? Why—?”
“I told you. She didn’t answer. And you said, ‘Okay.’”
Charlie blinked at his daughter. “Because I assumed you’d try again.”
“Oh. I thought you were going to.”
“No, hey.” Charlie was already fishing out his phone. “You were supposed to get back to her, as you bloody well know.”
“Yeah. I tried. She didn’t pick up. I’ll text—”
“Yeah, well, that might have to do at this rate.”
Rita had finished her own call and was patting Henry’s back. His eyes were closed in satisfaction and his tiny milk-drunk head lolled on her shoulder as she reached for another olive. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah.” A note of frustration had crept into Charlie’s voice. “Just Kim. She messaged Zara last night. Wants to come over tonight to drop off her birthday present, but she’ll be turning up to an empty house.”
Zara had at least appeared shamefaced. “I tried, okay? She hardly ever answers since she had the baby.”
Charlie had ignored her, tapping the screen. They’d all fallen quiet and Falk had been able to hear the faint ringing from the other end of the phone. Eventually it had stopped.
“See?” Zara had looked mildly triumphant. “She never picks up.”
Charlie said nothing as he tried a second time. Again, they’d all listened to the ringtone for what felt like a long time. On the verge of cutting out once more, there had suddenly been a moment or two of nothing and then a rustle. A woman’s face had appeared on the screen.
“Kim. Hey.” Charlie himself had sounded a little surprised. He’d propped up his phone on the table against the wine bottle. “How’re you doing?”
“Hi, Charlie.” Kim Gillespie said, her voice instantly softening as her daughter had moved closer to see the screen. “Hello, Zara, sweetheart.”
It was the first and only time Falk ever heard Kim speak. The sound was clear, but the phone line lent her voice a flattened, distant quality.
“Where are you?” Charlie had reached out to adjust the angle of the phone, and Falk had caught his first real glimpse of the woman. Kim’s features had been distorted by the shaky upward tilt of the camera, but he could see her dark hair. “Still in the car?”
“Yeah. We’re—ah—near the eastern bridge now,” Kim had said, and Falk had been able to picture that stretch of road, about thirty minutes from town. “Listen, Charlie, what’s up? It’s not a great time, Zoe’s asleep in the back.”
Falk had seen something flicker across Zara’s face at the mention of her new sister. It vanished quickly, if not completely. Kim hadn’t seemed to notice, turning to focus instead on a murmured voice off-screen.
“That Rohan there?” Charlie had cleared his throat. “Congratulations on the little one, mate.”
The image blurred momentarily as Kim tilted the phone toward the driver’s seat, where Rohan raised a hand in greeting.
“Thanks, mate.” The man’s voice was friendly enough but hushed. “Sorry, we had better keep it down though, if that’s all right.”
“Charlie.” Kim’s own tone was brisk as she turned the phone back on herself. “We’ll talk later, okay? I’ll see you and Zara soon, anyway.”
“Hang on, Kim, it’s actually about you coming by tonight.” Charlie had leaned in. “We’re not going to be around, sorry.”
There had been a pause. The only sound from the other end of the phone was the low hum of the car engine.
