The Adults

by Caroline Hulse

  The arm became a body too, and Alex’s face loomed onto the screen. She gave a shy wave.

  Scarlett looked back at the present, suspicious now.

  She moved the present between her hands, weighing it, feeling the squishiness of what was inside.

  She didn’t open the present. Instead, she looked back at Alex.

  Alex’s smile wobbled.

  “Really?” Scarlett said.

  Alex sighed. “In my defense, can you remember we didn’t actually have that conversation till yesterday? That I’d already bought your present?”

  Scarlett shook her head to show disappointment.

  Alex paused. “Why don’t you just leave it there, wrapped up, and I’ll take it back and get something else.”

  Scarlett sat straighter at that. “Will you get the Bryan the Lion’s jungle palace extension kit, so he’s got somewhere to park his trailer?”

  “That’s not fair on Alex,” Mum said quickly. “It’s too expensive.”

  Alex touched Mum’s arm. “Every lion needs somewhere to park his trailer.”

  “Too soft,” Claire said. “And you don’t understand how the next conversation goes. Because Scarlett hasn’t even got the lion’s trailer.”

  “Thanks, Alex,” Scarlett said simply.

  Alex reversed out of shot again. “You’re welcome.”

  Scarlett pushed the brown present away. She pulled the box with the reindeer wrapping closer. “Who’s this one from?”

  “This one’s from me and your dad too,” Mum said. “Now hurry up and open it, because Patrick’s allowed visitors in five minutes.”

  Scarlett ripped the paper off the reindeer present.

  She looked at the box and gave a gasp of surprise.

  59

  There was a knock at Patrick’s door. “Come in,” Patrick said.

  Claire entered the room and pointed at the bed in a wordless question. Patrick gave a teenage shrug of whatever.

  Claire sat on the bed, twisting to face him. “I see they’ve brought you Christmas cake.”

  Patrick looked at the plate of cake on the tray in front of him. He shrugged again.

  “How are you?” Claire’s voice was gentle.

  “I’ve been shot in the shoulder. I have a punctured lung.”

  “How does it feel?”

  “Like I’ve been shot.”

  “Right. Does that mean you want me to go away?”

  Patrick said nothing.

  “I just thought it would be good if we had a conversation. About us.”

  “I thought we split up yesterday.”

  “We didn’t split up yesterday. We had a…bit of a chat, but Alex and Matt were there, and there were…other things going on. We didn’t finish the conversation.”

  “Nevertheless, I’d rather we didn’t. Let’s just leave it as it was.”

  Claire put her hand on his leg. “We have to talk about it.”

  Patrick lifted her hand from his leg and placed it back on the bed. “We don’t, actually. As long as we’re both clear, we don’t have to say another word about it. That’s what I’d prefer, and I’d like you to respect my wishes on this particular occasion, thank you.”

  “But you understand I don’t want to be together anymore?”

  “Of course. So—please, Claire—give an injured man a break after you shot him.”

  Claire glanced at the door. “I could go to prison, you know. If you said that to the police.”

  “It was my fault you shot me. I’ll tell them that when they ask me. They’re coming here soon, apparently.”

  Claire widened her eyes. “Please don’t say that.”

  “I’ll ask them if I can take your punishment. I’ll protect you, despite everything.”

  “I don’t think that would work, so please can you just stick with the story?”

  “I’m an honest man, Claire. I’m not a man to tell lies to the police.”

  Claire glanced at the door again. “It’s Scarlett who will lose out if I go to prison or I get struck off. She loves you, you know. You can still see her, whatever’s happened with the two of us. Even if you hate me.”

  “If I lie to the police.”

  “Either way. But, Patrick—please go with the Alex story. Everyone else will suffer if you don’t.”

  “However ashamed I am of my actions, I still have my integrity. It’s all I have left now.”

  Claire pushed herself up from the bed. “It’s not all you have left! Don’t be so melodramatic. You have everything.” Claire paced around the tiny room. “Your kids have had a wake-up call, and you’ll see more of them now, I know it. You’ve split up with a woman who doesn’t love you enough and you’re moving on to a better chapter in your life. Things are OK.”

  Patrick looked down at his hands. Things are OK.

  Could they be? Wasn’t this the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to him? Claire leaving him like this? Patrick going—well, angry, and rampaging around with a bow and arrow? Being shot? No longer being able to do an Ironman?

  It was the worst thing that could have happened.

  And yet…the sky hadn’t crashed in.

  And yet…Claire was looking at him with more fondness in her eyes than she had in a long time.

  “Just do me a favor, Patrick.”

  Patrick was about to say he didn’t feel like doing her a favor. He looked at the softness in Claire’s eyes and stopped himself.

  Claire sat down on the bed again. “With the next woman you’re with. Be the best man you can be, you know?” She took both Patrick’s hands in hers. “Don’t twist yourself into someone you’re not because you’re worried things might go wrong.” Claire tried to catch his eye but Patrick looked deliberately away. “Maybe, with the next one, just assume everything will go all right? That you’re good enough?”

  Patrick looked firmly at the drip next to him. “You think there’ll be a next one?”

  “Of course there’ll be a next one. You’re handsome, clever, and kind. But you and me don’t fit together. I wasn’t my best self around you either. I made fun of your quirks, and lied to you about things I’m not even ashamed of, just for an easy life. That’s not right. That was a warning sign that things were out of sync.”

  Patrick looked down at his feet.

  Claire squeezed his hand. “What are you thinking? Do you hate me?”

  Patrick didn’t know. He had thoughts going round in his head, but none of them landed for quite long enough to process before another one came.

  He had to say something.

  “How many men have you slept with? Just out of interest?”

  “Quite a few. A hundred maybe? I had some fun in my early twenties.” Claire laughed, then looked serious. “You don’t have to rush to move out. I don’t want you thinking there’s a chance we’ll get back together, but if you can deal with it, and as long as Scarlett doesn’t get distressed or confused, you can have our spare room as long as you want.”

  “We’d have to move the clothes horse. And the exercise bike.”

  “Yes. Yes, we would.”

  “And your bank statements and tax records.”

  “OK.”

  “It couldn’t be the ironing room anymore. That wouldn’t work for me.”

  “Whatever you want. Just think about it. It’s a relief that we’re over—”

  “A relief!”

  “Because this has been coming for a while. But I don’t hate you, that’s what I’m trying to say. Even if I’m saying it badly.”

  Patrick smoothed the bedding over his legs. “What about you, Claire? Will there be a next one for you?”

  Claire sighed. “I don’t want anyone right now. Maybe it’ll be just me and Scarlett. She’s already got good men in her life, with you an
d Matt. She doesn’t need any more. And I’m not sure I need any more.”

  “Not even to have sex with?”

  Claire shrugged. “You don’t need to be in a relationship for that.”

  Patrick wrinkled his nose. “You do, though.”

  Claire smiled.

  Patrick thought. It would be nice to have a partner who hadn’t slept with a hundred men. Or didn’t roll her eyes at him. It would be nice to have a partner who needed him. Who maybe looked up to him a little?

  And it would be nice to have a partner who hadn’t actually shot him.

  He had been trying so hard to keep Claire lately. And that didn’t feel good. To feel like every conversation had to go perfectly, or someone else had the power to take everything away. Of course it had made him a bit…intense.

  Maybe Claire was right. He wasn’t going to tell her this, of course.

  “You OK?” Claire asked.

  Despite his intentions, Patrick found himself nodding.

  60

  In a chair outside Patrick’s room, Alex looked at her watch. Next to her, Matt jiggled his feet on the floor, lifting his heels and setting them back down. Alex put a hand on his knee to stop him.

  “Sorry. Excess energy.”

  Alex took a deep breath. She’d driven back up to the hospital that morning and it was like she’d never been away: the smell of chemical cleaner hooked firmly into her nostrils, her rear end molding itself instantly back into the hard chair.

  Matt’s knees started jiggling again. Alex put her hand down to stop them.

  Matt grinned sheepishly. “Nervous. I wonder how it’s going in there.”

  “Claire’s only been in there for a minute. They won’t have got past ‘hello.’ ”

  A minute later, Alex turned to Matt. “What do you think they’re saying now?”

  They strained to hear. The voices in the room sounded controlled and pleasant.

  “I can’t hear shouting or anything.”

  “She’s still leaving him, isn’t she?” Alex asked Matt.

  “Of course.”

  “I thought he’d be shoutier.”

  They listened some more.

  “Maybe he’s had some kind of stroke,” Matt said.

  “What time did you tell your ex-in-laws we’d pick up Scarlett?”

  “I said ‘afternoon.’ The good thing is their expectations of me are so low, they’d never expect me to be specific. There are advantages to people thinking you’re shit.”

  “Are they OK with having her?”

  “Apart from being confused about why Scarlett keeps high-kicking and gyrating against chairs, they’re fine.” Matt reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Anyway. I’ve been waiting to give you this all weekend. Happy Christmas.”

  “Your presents are back home.” Alex looked at the envelope. “I didn’t think you’d got me anything.”

  “What a stupid thing to think.” But Matt’s voice was gentle.

  Alex took the envelope and eased the flap open. Self-conscious under Matt’s gaze, she pulled out the piece of card from the envelope. It was a flyer for a boutique hotel in the Cotswolds.

  “I’ve booked us in for a weekend in two weeks’ time. I thought after this trip, you might want some proper time away to relax.”

  Alex looked at the flyer. She eased her thumb over the stone walls of the cottage in the picture. “When did you book it?”

  “Four weeks ago. Right after you agreed to come here.” Matt scratched at his chin, making his shaving rash worse. “The bar has thirty-five different types of vodka, apparently. Now you’re drinking again.”

  “I’m not drinking again.”

  “Thank fuck for that. Great, great decision.”

  Alex gave a small smile.

  Matt made his face deliberately blank. “Of course, I wouldn’t want us to go on holiday just the two of us, now I know how successful these big trips can be. So I’ve invited some other people. Your parents. Both my parents, despite the divorce. Our bosses.”

  “Lovely.”

  “That simpering newsreader whose voice gives you the creeps.”

  Alex put the flyer back in the envelope and closed the flap. She kissed Matt softly on the cheek.

  Nicola Trevor rounded the corner, her two girls trailing behind.

  “Once we’ve done this,” Nicola said to the girls, “we can have the chocolate fountain as a treat. If you’re good.”

  Nicola noticed Matt and Alex; she stopped. “Hi there.”

  Matt grinned at her. “Happy Christmas.”

  “Nicola.” Alex looked at the floor. “I should apologize. Last time we saw each other…”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Nicola said.

  “I don’t drink anymore, you see,” Alex mumbled into the floor.

  When Alex made herself look up again, Nicola gave her a smile. She looked from Alex to Matt. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s OK,” Matt said. “He’s made of strong stuff, he’s been a bit of an all-round hero.”

  Nicola nodded.

  “And it’s so sad for him.” There was a naive look on Matt’s face that Alex recognized. “He was due to do an Ironman this year. He’s practically superhuman, he can run like the wind and lift a truck. He’s like Speedy Gonzales and Geoff Capes, rolled into one. But now he can’t because of his shoulder.”

  “An Ironman?” Nicola shook her head. “Wow. He’s driven, isn’t he?”

  Matt grinned at Nicola. “He is.”

  Alex squeezed his hand.

  Down the corridor, Claire opened the door to Patrick’s room. “You can come in now.”

  Claire glanced at Nicola, she gave a wide smile. “Lovely to see you. He’ll be pleased.” She turned to Matt. “It’s all fine.” She looked at Alex. “We’re good.”

  “Really?” Alex said.

  “Surprisingly, really.”

  Alex looked at Matt. “There’s too many people. I’ll wait out here.” She squeezed Matt’s hand. “But I’ll be here when you get out.”

  61

  Matt crashed onto Patrick’s bed with his usual force. “How are you, Ironman?”

  “I’m not going to be an Ironman now.”

  Patrick noticed Matt’s gaze flicked round the room. He usually made clear eye contact, but not with Patrick, not today. “You’ll always be an Ironman to me.”

  Patrick peered closer to see whether Matt was joking, but his face was expressionless. There was no hint of humor in his eyes.

  That gave Patrick the confidence to ask, “I was wondering, Matt. Do you know if they’ve still got the arrow? Could you go back and ask?”

  “The arrow?”

  Patrick tapped his bandaged shoulder. “My arrow. It’s a big deal to get shot.”

  “It is,” Matt said. “I’ll ask, but I’m guessing the police have it.”

  “I just think it might look good in a case on the mantelpiece. Of wherever I end up living.” He held Matt’s gaze. “Claire and I have split up.”

  Matt nodded softly. “Unlucky, mate.”

  “Yeah, well,” Patrick said.

  “She can be annoying, though,” Matt added. “So—swings and roundabouts.”

  “Shall I leave?” Claire asked.

  Patrick picked a grape from his side table and popped it casually in his mouth. “Matt and I are finished with that topic now.”

  “Yep, we’re all done. Old news.” Matt took a grape too. “I just hope you’ll still hang out with Scarlett,” he said. “She needs you to teach her all the stuff I don’t know.”

  Patrick considered this. “She definitely does.”

  A shadow fell across the doorway. “Knock, knock.”

  Nicola stood tentatively in the doorway, wearing her farmer’s wife cardigan.


  Patrick hauled himself upright and pulled his pajama top straighter.

  Nicola pushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. “Are you receiving visitors? I can come back another time.”

  “Of course. Thank you for coming.”

  Nicola looked down at her hands. “I wanted to bring something but—Christmas Day. Everywhere’s shut.”

  Matt tutted. “No effort at all, Nicola. You could have got him firelighters from the garage.”

  Nicola nodded. “I could have, you’re right. Sorry, Patrick.” She looked round the room. “So many flowers in here! How did they get delivered at Christmas? You must mean a lot to people.”

  Patrick controlled his smile as best he could. “I’m lucky.”

  Did he actually mean that? he wondered. He thought he actually might. After all—he was a survivor now.

  Nicola looked behind her, to the empty doorway. “Kids,” she shouted. “You coming in?”

  Two girls peeked into the room and disappeared again.

  Nicola turned back to Patrick. “Matt told me you were going to do an Ironman. I bet you would have been brilliant. I’m so sorry.”

  Patrick gave a brave smile. “ ‘Life is what happens when you’re making other plans.’ Was that John Lennon?”

  “Are you going to sue the holiday park?” Nicola asked.

  “We can’t sue. Claire signed the waiver illegally.”

  Claire was about to say something, but Patrick smiled to show he was joking.

  Claire stood up. “I’m going to get a coffee. Coming, Matt?”

  Matt stood up. “Any orders from in here?”

  “You could see if they’ve got any protein shakes?” Patrick asked. “I feel a bit weak.”

  Matt grinned. “I’ll see if they’ve got any spinach, like Popeye.”

  Matt and Claire left the room.

  “May I?” Nicola perched gently on the bed. Patrick felt the mattress compress as he rolled slightly toward her.

  “I spotted you.” Patrick stared firmly at the bed. “When we got to the holiday park. I wanted to get a chance to say hello and I didn’t get one. I made a really quick—bad—decision.”