by T. M. Logan
He didn’t look behind him.
Daniel looked back to the woods, hoping his mum might be there, following his dad.
But she wasn’t coming.
He wondered where she was.
‘Daniel.’ Jake’s voice.
Daniel’s head snapped round.
‘Eh?’ He sat up in his recliner. ‘What?’
The older boys had given up on the gas heaters and were now scrutinising him.
‘So what’s it like?’ Ethan said with a sly smile.
‘What’s what like?’
‘Being a nerd? Like, at school?’
Daniel shrugged.
‘Dunno, really.’
‘Not having a go at you, just asking.’
‘Sure.’
He took off his glasses and wiped the sweat from the lenses with his T-shirt. His mum liked these glasses, said they made him look a bit like Harry Potter. Daniel liked the idea of that.
Jake said, ‘What’s it like having a sister?’
Daniel hurried to put his glasses back on.
‘Rubbish,’ he said. ‘She’s always moody and mean and never wants to play anything any more. She’d rather talk about make-up or boys or stupid stuff at school.’
‘Has she got a boyfriend?’
‘Dunno.’
‘What about that rugby lad, Alex? She liked him, didn’t she?’
Daniel nodded.
‘He came to the house a few times, before Mum and Dad were back from work.’
Jake sat up, reaching into his pocket.
‘Hey, I got something for you.’
He held it out for Daniel to see. Bright yellow see-through plastic with a silver top, see-through liquid sloshing around inside the plastic. Daniel had never held one before but he knew what it was.
‘It’s yours,’ the older boy said. ‘I got a three-pack from that cigarette shop in the village.’
He and his brother held identical lighters, in red and green.
‘The tabac,’ Daniel said, smiling broadly. ‘You got one for me?’
‘Do you want it?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. It would be so cool if they had one each, like they were equals, almost. Like he was fully one of the gang.
‘You roll the metal thing to make a spark,’ Jake said, ‘then push down with your thumb to make the flame come out.’
He demonstrated, sparking the lighter into a tall flame.
‘You try.’
Daniel took it from him and instantly burned his thumb on the hot metal where the flame had come out.
‘Ow!’ He dropped the lighter with a clatter. Ethan snorted with laughter.
Jake picked it up off the tiled floor of the gazebo.
‘If you want it, to keep for good, all you have to do is pass the test.’
‘What test?’ Daniel said, sucking his singed thumb.
Daniel produced a packet of cigarettes from his pocket of his shorts. On the front was a picture of a lady dancing in smoke, and in big blue letters the word Gitanes.
‘You have to smoke one of these.’
But I don’t want to get cancer, Daniel thought, staring at the picture on the front of the packet.
‘A whole one?’
‘Yeah. Are you up for it?’
‘I don’t really know how to smoke,’ Daniel said in a small voice.
‘We’ll show you.’
Ethan held his hand out to his brother.
‘Let’s have one, then.’
Jake checked over his shoulder and quickly shoved the two lighters and the cigarettes back into his shorts pocket.
‘Put it away,’ he hissed.
Ethan followed suit immediately.
Daniel looked up as Jake and Ethan’s mum appeared in a wide-brimmed straw hat, holding two small bottles of water. He liked her. She had a bit of a funny accent that sometimes sounded like she was American and just pretending to do a British voice.
‘Hey there, boys,’ Jennifer said. ‘Are you having a cool time playing?’
Jake gave a grunt in reply.
Jennifer held the bottles out to them. ‘I brought you some water to take with you when you go exploring.’
‘Not thirsty,’ Jake said.
‘But you will be soon, in this heat.’
‘No, ta.’
Jennifer turned to her younger son. ‘You need some water, Ethan, otherwise you’ll get sunstroke.’
‘I’m all right,’ Ethan mumbled.
‘You got anything to eat? I’m starving,’ Jake said.
Daniel looked sideways at Jake, then back at his mum. She just had a skirt and a vest-thing on, so it wasn’t like she could be carrying any food. She didn’t even have any pockets, so obviously she didn’t have anything for him to eat.
‘It’s just these,’ she said, proffering the bottles again. ‘Just the water, Jakey.’
He waved a hand dismissively.
‘I’m OK.’
‘But I could fetch you some snacks from the house, if you like, some fruit bars or there’s probably—’
‘Nah, doesn’t matter.’
‘Oh. Right.’ She turned to Daniel, as if noticing him for the first time. She held one of the plastic bottles out to him. ‘Would you like a water, Daniel?’
Daniel really did. He’d not had a drink since his apple juice at lunch and his throat was really dry with all the running about and exploring they’d been doing. His mum had said not to drink the water out of the tap here because it might give him an upset tummy and the French orange squash tasted funny so he’d not drunk anything for hours. He sneaked another look at Jake, who looked back out of the corner of his eye.
‘No thank you, Mrs Marsh,’ Daniel said. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Well, all right, then,’ she said. ‘So, what are you boys up today?’
‘Stuff,’ Jake said.
‘Exploring, are you? Super. Remember what I said about the gorge though, Jakey, won’t you?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘You can play wherever you want to in the grounds, but not in the woods down by the gorge, where the drop-off is, all right? There’s a man coming this week to fix the fence at the cliff, but until he does you’re to stay away from there. And away from the woods.’
‘Sure,’ Jake grunted.
‘I’ll leave you to it, then. Have fun.’
She turned and headed back across the garden to the villa compound, the older boys sniggering as their mother walked away.
‘Beg-friend,’ Jake said, under his breath.
Ethan snorted with laughter.
‘She’s so embarrassing.’
‘What’s a beg-friend?’ Daniel said.
Jake pointed up the hill at his mother’s retreating back.
‘Trying too hard, always trying to be nice, trying to get into everything so you’ll have to do stuff with her. Fucking annoying, basically.’
‘She’s well clingy,’ Ethan added.
Jennifer turned and waved when she reached the gate. Daniel gave her a little wave back, but dropped his hand when he saw that neither of the bigger boys were acknowledging their mother.
As soon as she was out of sight, Jake stood up. ‘Come on,’ he said. He set off down the hill, his brother following him.
Daniel fell in behind them. ‘Where are we going?’
Jake turned and grinned over his shoulder. ‘Down to the woods, of course. You want that lighter, don’t you?’
33
Sean
K suspects
Shit. What has she said to you?
She knows something is going on
Specifics?
Not yet. Need to see you
Yes but not today
When?
Will come back to you
I can’t stand lying to her. She knows something
You need to calm down. Remember what is at stake
I know what’s at stake. That’s why I can’t be calm
Meet tomorrow?
When?
Will me
ssage you
OK, sooner is better x
Remember to delete all messages as soon as you’ve read x
34
Rowan
Rowan didn’t have long.
She locked the door behind her and looked quickly around an en suite bathroom that was bigger than her entire bedroom back home. Perched on the edge of a marble bathtub, she checked her messages in silence, scrolling quickly through her inbox. Deal with, delegate or delete. Rowan was the queen of the six-word email. She cleared what needed to be done urgently before switching to a couple of messaging apps and listening to a voicemail that had dropped in while they were unpacking. Sent a nine-word email in response. Done.
The way things had worked out, it was pretty awkward that the holiday had fallen in this week, of all weeks, considering everything that was going on in her life. It was fabulous to see the girls again – putting the gang back together, seeing Kate, Jennifer and Izzy, always reminded her of all the good times they’d shared, but the timing was rather . . . unfortunate.
Who was she kidding? She’d been looking forward to this for months. It wasn’t great timing, but – fuck it – that couldn’t be helped.
And besides, when was anything ever the perfect time? Was there ever a perfect time to take a break from the office, to step away from the business? No. Was there a perfect age to get married, or divorced? Depended which of your marriages you were talking about. Was there ever a perfect time to have a baby? No, not really. Especially not when you were trying to get a new company off the ground and you were both working stupid hours to keep the mortgage rolling, the exorbitant school fees paid and the nanny in skinny caramel macchiatos.
If you waited for the perfect time, you’d wait forever, so when you saw something you wanted, you had to go out there and take it. Sometimes you just had to trust your instincts and jump right in.
Rowan had always had good instincts – aside from that one time with her first husband – and she was a great believer in the move fast and break things mode of doing business. Who was it who said that? Mark Zuckerberg, she thought, or one of those other Facebook guys. She’d met Zuckerberg once at a client’s event in New York, couldn’t remember much about him apart from how ridiculously young he looked. And short. But she liked his mantra, because he was right – when you were running your own company you had to keep moving, like a shark. If the shark stayed still for too long, it was dead. Maybe not right away, but over time; if you let yourself get slower, you got into a rut, you got into bad habits, and soon enough you found yourself eaten alive by the competition. Better to be the one doing the eating, had always been Rowan’s philosophy.
You could never stand still. Not in business, not in relationships, not in life. Not in anything. Especially now, when there was so much at stake.
Move fast and break things.
For all his faults – and he had a few, bless him – Russ would understand that better than most. At almost eight years together, their relationship was already the longest she’d had by quite some margin. But sometimes life threw things at you, complications that you couldn’t plan for, and you had to just roll with them rather than fighting them all the time. Especially if they were nice complications. With that thought in mind, leaning against the lip of the bathtub, she quickly thumb-typed a final message and pressed send.
She had always been good at keeping secrets.
But she would tell Russ, sooner or later.
At a time of her choosing. No one else’s.
Small footsteps reached her through the door. A high-pitched voice. Just one word, two syllables, rising in pitch like a question, a request. A five-year-old’s demand that Rowan’s five-minute respite should now come to an end.
‘Mummy?’
‘What is it, Odette?’
‘Are you coming out now?’
‘I’ll come out in a minute, darling.’
A pause.
‘Are you coming, Mummy?’
‘Yes, I’ll be right there.’
‘I want a Mummy story.’
‘What about a Daddy story?’
‘Daddy said it was Mummy’s turn.’
‘Oh, he did, did he?’
‘Yes.’ Another short pause. ‘So can I have Princess and the Pea?’
‘Of course, darling.’
Rowan locked her phone, flushed the pristine toilet – just for effect – and ran both taps noisily into the Italian marble sink for good measure.
She unlocked the door of the en suite and reached for the handle.
35
I don’t know how long I stayed there at the edge of the gorge. Long enough to watch as the sun sank slowly towards the horizon, turning from blinding white to blistering gold and then a deep, burning orange as the dark hills rose up to meet it.
Did it stack up, Sean’s denial?
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
I swear I’m not involved with Rowan.
It’s the truth.
How could I still believe in him? Because I may not have seen the fire, but I could certainly smell the smoke. I could almost taste it, harsh in my throat. His refusal to explain, his silence, was deafening and incriminating, all at the same time.
Eventually I looked at my watch. It was getting late and the kids would be wanting their tea soon. I stood up and began the walk back up the hill.
By the time I reached the villa, the kitchen was a hive of activity, Alistair in an apron making a big bowl of paella while Russ poured drinks and Izzy set the dining table. Rowan put a glass of white wine in my hand, informing me it was one of the local varieties and was chilled to absolute perfection. I studied her as I took a sip, the chilled Faugères like ice on my tongue, trying to discern any sign of deceit in her eyes, any sign of treachery. But there was nothing. I reminded myself that she worked in PR, that presenting a story – an image – to the world, was what she did every day, and that she was very good at her job.
‘You all right, honey?’ she said. ‘You look as if you could use a bigger glass.’
I pushed down the anger, forcing a smile to the surface.
‘Just a bit hot. You’re right about this wine, though, it’s exactly what—’
Daniel ran up the steps to the balcony, squealing past me, with Lucy in hot pursuit.
‘Mum! Dad! Help, she’s gone mad!’
Lucy stalked after him, her face flushed with anger.
‘Give it to me!’ she shouted. ‘Now!’
I stepped in between them, holding my hands up like a referee stopping a boxing match.
‘Whoa!’ I said. ‘What’s going on?’
‘He’s filming me!’ Lucy shouted, jabbing a finger at her brother. She swiped at him, trying to grab the camcorder from him as I held them apart.
Daniel dodged away from his sister’s grasp, still squealing with nervous laughter.
‘She’s crazy!’
‘Tell him to stop filming me!’
‘Daniel,’ I said, ‘you shouldn’t film people unless they’re OK with it. Give me the camera, please.’
‘She’s just being moody. No one else minds when I do it.’
‘Well, your sister minds. Did you ask her permission?’
‘Yes. Sort of.’
‘Liar!’ Lucy said. ‘You never even said you were filming! I was just sunbathing and then you were there with the camera!’
‘Daniel, you’ve been told not to film her, but you did it anyway. Why did you do that?’
‘I was just doing a funny video. It’s only for fun.’
‘It’s not fun for Lucy, is it?’
There was a tremor in Lucy’s voice. She was on the verge of tears.
‘Tell him to delete it, Mum.’
I took the camera from my son’s hand. ‘Go and help Izzy lay the table for dinner, Daniel. I’ll come and talk to you in a minute.’
He skipped off towards the kitchen with a quick backwards glance to make sure he was no longer being pursued. But Lucy had collaps
ed onto a chair, all the fight gone out of her. She put her head in her hands and started to cry.
I sat down on the arm of the chair and put an arm around her. ‘What’s up, Lucy? It’s just your brother being silly.’
‘Don’t like people having pictures of me, ones I don’t know about.’
‘Look. We’ll tape over what he’s just done, OK? I’ll delete it, no one will see it.’
‘No one?’
‘I promise.’
Her voice was so low it was almost a whisper. ‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘Is it just that, Lucy? Is there something else going on?’
She shook her head but said nothing.
‘Are you sure?’
She disengaged from our embrace and wiped a tear away with the heel of her hand. ‘I’m going to my room for a bit.’
I watched her go, still wondering about her reaction. There was regular friction between Lucy and Daniel, who were no different from siblings the world over, and Daniel seemed to get a kick out of winding his sister up, but her reaction this time seemed to be on a different level.
I went upstairs and sat down on my bed with the video camera, opened out the little viewing screen on its side and pressed play, then rewind. The screen came to life as the tape ran backwards showing the pool, the loungers, then Lucy in her lemon-yellow bikini. I let the tape run back for a few more seconds, then pressed play again. Daniel had filmed his sister as she sunbathed, going in for extreme close-ups of her belly button, the big toe of her right foot, and then a shot up her nose that zoomed in right up one nostril. The crash zoom was so fast it made me dizzy just watching it. Finally, she seemed to realise he was there, jumped up and began chasing him. The picture zig-zagged crazily as he ran away, his squeals of panic loud on the soundtrack.
It wasn’t very flattering but it did seem a bit of an over-reaction on Lucy’s part.
But still, all of it was going to have to be deleted. I just hoped there wasn’t too much – although he had been known to film in a kind of stream-of-consciousness style that went on for twenty, sometimes thirty minutes at a time. He often shot more footage than Sean.