The Adults

by Caroline Hulse

  I can look it up on my system, easy.

  Nicola Trevor, that’s her. She’s still here, according to the system. They haven’t mentioned her?

  Well, that’s interesting for a start, isn’t it?

  Oh really? Nothing else?

  But will you tell me when you find out what’s going on there?

  Of course, I understand. I’ll find out on my own, though. People tell me things they won’t tell the police. I’m here when they drive in and I’m here when they leave, and lots of people like to have a little gossip and a cup of tea with Sheila on their way past. I have fifteen mugs here, just in case. Fifteen.

  Feel free to come back anytime. There’s always a mug here with your name on it!

  11

  Patrick unpacked the milk and yogurts from the cool bag and placed them in the lodge’s empty fridge. He listened to the enthusiastic chatter of Claire and Scarlett in the lodge’s garden.

  He reached for the bottles of white wine and laid them down in the fridge, wedging the yogurts next to the bottles so they didn’t roll from side to side.

  Nicola Garcia. The Nicola Garcia.

  Just seeing her took him right back, with a jittery echo of teenage energy.

  And he’d—on the spur of the moment—accidentally kind of stalked her.

  No. He definitely hadn’t stalked her, not at all. And there was nothing premeditated about it. He was just keen to see Nicola again and it was the only chance he was going to get.

  Patrick tried to ignore the way the little hairs on his neck were standing up.

  It definitely wasn’t stalking.

  Patrick needed to unpack and go for a run, he decided. He strode out onto the patio.

  Claire and Scarlett were kneeling on the ground, holding out cupped hands of what looked like salted peanuts to squirrels. Patrick didn’t think they should be feeding wild animals salt. But there it was.

  “I want to unpack my suitcase,” he said to Claire. “But there’s only one double bedroom.”

  “That one.” Claire gestured to Scarlett at a particularly plump squirrel. “It’s got the most gullible face.”

  Patrick wondered what Claire had planned for those squirrels. With Claire, he could never be quite sure. Outfits? A photo opportunity? Claire just had to seize the fun in everything. Patrick had loved that about her at first, but now it made him feel a little on edge.

  Claire flicked a glance at Patrick. “You look all forlorn and pointless, standing there.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Just pick a room if you want to unpack. Finders keepers.”

  “We can’t take the only double room before they get here. We’ll look selfish.”

  Claire stood up. “You stay here, darling,” she said to Scarlett. She walked back inside, Patrick following.

  “Then let’s take a twin room,” Claire said quietly.

  “But I don’t want the twin room.”

  “Then take the good room.”

  “I told you we can’t!”

  “Why are you getting so worked up?”

  Scarlett walked back through the patio doors. “It won’t eat. So I just left the nuts out there in case it changes its mind.”

  “Bring the packet in, Scarlett,” Patrick said automatically. “Don’t litter.”

  Scarlett shuffled back outside. She shook the nuts out of the packet and brought the packet inside. She tugged at the patio door with both hands, leaning back to pull it shut behind her.

  “What time are the others getting here?” Patrick asked.

  Claire shrugged.

  “Have you not had a text or anything?”

  But Claire just laughed.

  “Surely Alex is polite, even if Matt’s not?”

  Claire glanced at Scarlett and back. “Matt is very polite.” She gave Patrick a remember his daughter’s here look. “He’s just a little more spontaneous than some other people.”

  Patrick watched Claire and Scarlett head to the smallest room, Scarlett pulling her ride-on zebra suitcase behind her.

  “At least Scarlett gets to unpack,” he said to Claire’s back. But she didn’t reply.

  Then Patrick had an idea. “Scarlett,” he shouted. “Come and watch me flip a coin.”

  12

  In the dark, Alex and Matt pulled up outside the lodge. They saw a man jogging the last few steps home, lit up by the forest’s Narnia-style lamps. He was clearly returning from a run, and was wearing what looked like very expensive, very serious Lycra.

  “Is that Patrick?” Alex said.

  “Yep.” Matt wound down his window. “Knees up, beetroot!”

  Patrick jerked round, startled. After a moment, he formed a smile.

  Matt put the hand brake on and hurried out of the car. He patted Patrick on the back. “All right, mate.” He rushed into the lodge. “Scarlett!”

  Alex stepped out of the car slowly, her legs stiff from the journey. “Patrick?” She held out her hand. “I’m Alex.”

  Patrick shook Alex’s hand with a formality that made her feel like she was at a work conference.

  “Did you get stuck in traffic?” Patrick asked. “We were expecting you here at four-thirty.”

  “Oh, we didn’t leave till about four.” Alex opened the boot and pulled out her suitcase.

  Patrick grabbed the suitcase from Alex’s hand. “I’ve got it.”

  “Thanks.” Alex grabbed Matt’s suitcase instead. It felt suspiciously light, like he hadn’t put as much thought (or content) into his packing as he might have done.

  He can borrow my moisturizer, Alex thought, but he can fucking well go to a shop and buy another toothbrush.

  “Leave it.” Patrick jerked his head at Matt’s case. “I’ll bring the heavy stuff in.”

  “It’s not heavy.”

  Patrick looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t.

  Alex followed Patrick into the house. The lightness of Matt’s case suggested Alex wouldn’t be receiving a lavish Christmas present this holiday. But they didn’t really go in for that kind of thing. Alex’s case only contained a few gesture-items for Matt. A bottle of brandy. A pair of socks embellished with pictures of Lion-O from ThunderCats (they’d had a conversation about ThunderCats not long ago, and it felt funny and cute). Whatever Matt had got her, however small—as long as it was wrapped and not still in the plastic bag with its receipt—would be fine by Alex.

  Alex followed Patrick down the corridor. She watched the muscles move in the back of his legs. A messy mole sat like a paint spatter on the high, hairless part of his thigh. In normal-length shorts, that mole would have been covered up.

  She’d expected him to look a bit more indoorsy. A bit more Sudoku and good wine, a bit less Putin-y, like he spent his weekends chopping wood and wrestling bears. With his over-exercised torso and too-short shorts, he looked nothing like Matt.

  But then…why should he?

  Claire and Alex weren’t exactly the same type. Claire was polished, super-white, lawyerly, with a full-on, shiny way about her that hit you in one go. To look at Claire was to hear dirty laughter and quick, clickety steps on polished floors. Whereas you just had to look at Alex to know her shoes didn’t click, they squeaked.

  As they reached the lodge’s main room, Patrick turned to her. “You’re down here.”

  Alex wanted to check out the open-plan lounge and kitchen, but Patrick bustled her down a corridor, like he needed her to get somewhere.

  When they reached the bedroom, Alex put her case down. Two twin beds filled up most of the room’s floor space.

  Patrick turned to her. “We didn’t want to just take the master bedroom upstairs, but we didn’t want to just give it to you either.”

  Alex laughed. “Fair enough.”

  “So I flipped for it. You lost.”<
br />
  “OK.”

  “I said we should film the flip, but Claire said that was unnecessary.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Scarlett was there. An impartial adjudicator.” Patrick paused. “It was tails. I’d said tails.”

  “Patrick,” Alex said. “Don’t stress.” She gave him her best relaxed smile.

  “I’ll take your car keys.” Patrick held out his hand. “And I’ll unload the rest of your stuff.”

  “No, we’ll be fine. Matt will help.”

  “I insist. Car keys.”

  Alex had no stamina for competitions of aggressive generosity, so, reluctantly, she handed them over.

  Patrick took the keys and whisked out of the room. Alex unzipped her case to get out her phone charger.

  “Hi, stranger,” Alex heard Claire say in another room. “Let me hug you.”

  Then Alex heard Matt’s voice in reply. “Your T-shirt smells like home. Like our old house.”

  “Same washing powder, probably.”

  Alex stopped looking for her phone charger. She stood straight upright.

  Home.

  Claire appeared in her doorway. “Knock knock!”

  Claire held her arms wide, beaming. Alex leaned down for the hug. Claire was a tight hugger, as Alex knew she would be. The top of her head was up to Alex’s nose; Alex smelled the nutty undercurrent of Claire’s hair. She also smelt something else, a smell she recognized but couldn’t place.

  It couldn’t be the home thing. Because Alex didn’t know what home smelt like.

  Claire rocked Alex from side to side and let her go.

  Patrick rounded the corner with an armful of coats and Matt’s skateboard. He placed them on the floor and disappeared again without a word.

  Alex watched him leave. “Patrick seems to be bringing in all our stuff.”

  Claire gave a wave of the hand. “It’s what he does. It’s easier to just let him get on with it. I’ll get the kettle on, you must be gasping.”

  With Claire gone, Alex sank onto the bed.

  Matt stuck his head round the doorway. “Are you OK here if I take Scarlett to see the ducks?”

  Alex gave him a smile. “Feed them a crust from me.”

  Matt waved and was gone.

  “But it’s dark!” Alex shouted after him.

  Did ducks come out in the dark? She realized she didn’t know.

  Alex looked around her. The bedroom was poky, with drawers the size of shoeboxes and two coat hangers rattling sadly together in the wardrobe. The room smelled of boxes of matches and pencil sharpenings: the outdoors, tamed and made child-friendly. But that was fine.

  But—home. Home wasn’t fine.

  Alex walked into the open-plan lounge and kitchen area. She smelt—then saw—the big fish, unwrapped and centered in a mound of plastic sheets.

  Claire indicated the fish. “I’m just sorting it out for tomorrow.”

  Alex gave a small smile. She deliberately didn’t look at the fish again. She didn’t know what type it was, but it was big. A look-at-me, aren’t we having a special event type of fish.

  And Alex hated fish.

  She hated the smell—that sour decay of coastal holidays and declining towns. She hated the taste, even though people always told her that fish tasted better than they smelled. In Alex’s opinion, from her admittedly small sample size, that was a lie.

  And she hated the way fish looked. The way they looked just so completely dead, their marble eyes shining open. Alex knew where her food came from, and she had dealt with any moral uncertainty about that decades ago. But she didn’t like to see those eyes. No other food came with marble eyes attached.

  And she didn’t like to be reminded of her squeamishness. Because she was a scientist, for God’s sake. This dissonance was a sign of mental weakness.

  “It’s a lovely piece,” Claire said. “But Scarlett’s kicking off because she doesn’t like fish. She thinks they look disgusting. She holds her nose if I make her eat it.”

  Alex gave a small smile.

  “But I told her, you can’t just say you don’t like things. I don’t want her growing up to be a fussy eater.”

  Alex moved from the fish, toward Claire, till the fish smell lessened and she could smell Claire again.

  Alex gave Claire a quick smile. “Just need the loo.”

  She hurried back into the bedroom and leaned back against the bed’s headboard.

  Alex thought about Claire’s smell.

  Not that she was into perfume. She didn’t wear it herself, though Matt had bought her a bottle the previous Christmas. Alex had made sure she wore the perfume a couple of times, just to show willing, and Matt had told her how great she smelled. And since then, the perfume had gone quietly and unceremoniously into a drawer.

  Alex sat up on the bed. There was no getting away from it.

  Claire was wearing that same perfume.

  13

  Scarlett trudged back from the lake with Posey and Dad. Posey stared at the leaves on the path as he walked, his ears drooping at the top.

  Dad ran a hand through his hair. “I’m really sorry there weren’t any ducks out tonight.”

  “We’ll find some tomorrow, Posey,” Scarlett said.

  “I promise, Posey,” Dad added. “We’ll find the biggest, hungriest ducks ever. And you can have a whole loaf of bread to yourself. The ducks will think you’re the Bread King. How about that?”

  Posey gave Dad his bravest smile.

  * * *

  —

  When the three of them got back to the lodge, Alex was waiting.

  “Scarlett!” Alex jumped up off the sofa and brushed herself down. “Good to see you, mate!”

  Posey gave a little growl.

  Scarlett gave Posey a warning look. “We discussed this in the car.”

  Alex kept her smile fixed. “I’m really looking forward to spending loads of time with you this holiday.”

  “Whatever,” Posey said.

  Scarlett shushed him.

  Alex’s smile wobbled. She stood there a moment, looking lost, then sat back down.

  Mum caught Scarlett’s gaze and nodded toward the envelope on the table.

  Scarlett and Posey exchanged glances.

  Scarlett picked up the envelope and placed it on Alex’s knee.

  Mum gave her another deliberate nod.

  Scarlett looked at the carpet. “Happy Christmas.”

  “Oh, thanks so much, Scarlett! But it’s not even Christmas yet!”

  Scarlett looked at the wall now.

  “The thing is,” Mum said to Alex, in a rush, “this present is time-sensitive, and if you’re planning things for this week, it’s best Scarlett gives it to you now.”

  “I’m not sure there’s much time left to plan things in, is there?” Alex switched her smile off in an instant. “I didn’t mean…”

  Mum waved a hand. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. I get it.”

  Mum was always so nice to Alex. Nicer than she ever was to Scarlett or Posey.

  Alex looked at the envelope. She opened it up and pulled out the piece of card inside. She blinked for a bit at the card.

  “Surely she can read,” Posey said to Scarlett. “She is a grown-up.”

  Scarlett put her hand on Posey’s arm to stop him talking.

  Dad leaned over Alex’s shoulder to look at the card. “What is it?”

  “Spa vouchers.” Alex turned to Scarlett, then to Mum. “Thanks very much?” Her voice went up at the end, like she was asking a question.

  “It’s such an amazing spa here,” Mum said. “So relaxing.”

  “Thank you,” Alex said. “I’ve never been to a spa before.”

  “Really?” Mum laughed. “Then this is a great place to get con
verted. I had such a good time in this spa last time.”

  “Last time,” Alex said in a strange voice. “When you came here before.”

  “Yes. But obviously, the present’s not from me, it’s from Scarlett.”

  “Of course. Thank you very much, Scarlett.”

  Scarlett gave a quick nod. She turned to Mum. “Can I go to bed now?”

  “What?” Mum pulled her face back in surprise, in that way she did so she didn’t look pretty anymore, but like she’d grown an extra chin. “Am I hearing things?”

  “There’s lots of fun things to do tomorrow. We’ve got a big day ahead.”

  Mum and Dad glanced at each other.

  “Dad can tuck me in,” Scarlett said. “Come on, Dad. Come on, Posey.”

  * * *

  —

  Dad tucked the duvet round Scarlett. “Tight as anything.” He tucked more, moving round her body, tucking and tucking. “You’ll never be able to escape from here.”

  Scarlett squealed with laughter as Dad kept tucking her tighter.

  “Remind me in the morning to give you that advent calendar I’ve bought you,” Dad said. “Only three weeks late, better late than never.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “But as we’re on the twenty-first of December, I’ve eaten most of the chocolates already. There are only four chocolates left.”

  “You haven’t eaten them all!”

  Dad wrinkled his nose. “I suppose I haven’t. I suppose the calendar’s still in its wrapping. You’ll just have to eat all twenty-five chocolates this weekend.”

  Scarlett nodded at Posey, who was sitting on the end of the bed. “Posey will help.”

  Dad looked round the room, in the wrong direction. “Do I need to tuck Posey in too?”

  “Posey sleeps in the airing cupboard.”

  Posey gave Dad a quick nod. Posey felt it was wrong for boys and girls to sleep in the same room. The airing cupboard was the only spare upstairs room in Scarlett’s house, and it didn’t look very comfy, but Posey was fine with it. He liked having his own space.