“Yes, Pops. Just a minute.”
“How did the quiz go?” Liza asked her brightly.
“I won! I need to collect my prize.”
“That’s brilliant,” Mitchell said. “Clever girl.”
As Poppy turned on her heels and skipped out of the room, Mitchell thought about his plan of action for tomorrow—a visit to the library and baking healthy vegetable muffins together. He guessed his daughter would prefer a trip out someplace with Liza instead, and Miss Heathcliff said Poppy should have some fun.
Liza grabbed her violin case and stood. “Well, I should go, too. Have a truly fabulous summer,” she said, walking toward the door.
Mitchell got to his feet and reached out a hand. He couldn’t let her go, not like this. “Wait.” His fingers brushed her elbow.
She turned, her expression questioning but hopeful.
“When you go to see your aunt, Poppy and I will join you. If you like?”
She eyed him, as if assessing whether he really meant it, before she broke into her usual smile. “Yes. Yes, please. That would be super. Then she can hear the story directly from you. If you text me your address, I’ll pick you both up from your place in my car. How about tomorrow at noon?”
“Um, tomorrow?” he said.
Liza maneuvered her violin case through the classroom door. “It’s urgent because of Jean’s tour.”
“Well, okay. We live in an apartment building, so we’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“Great. Oh,” she added before she headed out into the corridor. “Bring an overnight bag. It’s kind of a long drive up there.”
When she’d gone, Mitchell stared after her. “Long drive?” he repeated to himself, wondering what he’d just agreed to. “Overnight bag?”
9
GREEN BOTTLES
Over supper of porridge that evening, Poppy’s mouth fell open when Mitchell told her they were accompanying Liza on a trip the next day and staying overnight, too. He also told her about the letters Susan had given to him to read.
After rushing her last mouthfuls of food, Poppy sprinted to her bedroom where she rummaged in her drawers and wardrobe, gathering things to take with her.
“Slow down,” he said, following her.
“You might change your mind.”
He sighed to himself, hurt at how she perceived him. “I promise not to. Liza is picking us up at noon tomorrow.”
She picked up a pajama top. “This will be great, Dad, won’t it?”
He doubted she was right, but he nodded anyway. When he thought of his carefully mapped-out schedules in the hallway, he felt a pull toward them. “Of course, it will,” he said.
“You can take the letters to read.”
“Yes, I suppose I can.” If he was going to be sitting in a car on a long journey, he didn’t really have an excuse not to. And he did wonder what the unopened ones might reveal. “Now, don’t pack too much stuff, and remember your toothbrush.”
* * *
Poppy was still wearing her pajamas the next morning when a knock on the apartment door came at 11:10 a.m. Mitchell stood in the bathroom, mid-tooth clean, with white paste dribbling down his chin.
It can’t be her, can it? Not this early. Perhaps it’s Carl instead.
He spat into the sink, wiped his mouth on a towel and went to his front door to unlock it. He found Liza standing there, wearing lime-green-and-white pumps with pale jeans and an embroidered top. Her toadstool earrings had been replaced with pink Perspex triangles.
“You’re extremely early,” he said, rather annoyed.
“Hello to you, too,” she laughed.
As she followed him into the hallway, she put her hands behind her back and examined the sheets pinned to the wall. “Hmm, interesting. So, are you planning a military operation or solving a crime? Or both?”
“What do you mean?”
“This is all so regimented. You’ve even written down times for taking out your rubbish.” She squinted. “Do you schedule in watering your plants, too?”
“I don’t have anything in the apartment that needs looking after, or that’s nonessential,” Mitchell replied tartly. “I thought we were meeting you in the lobby at twelve.”
“I got here early and the blond caretaker guy told me your door number. When you walk up the stairs, do you like to look out of the windows and see the city getting smaller and smaller?” She didn’t wait for his reply. “You’ll never be burgled up here, will you? I mean, thieves would just target the lower floors. Unless the lift was working, of course. Which it’s not. There’s a sign on the doors.”
Her talk made Mitchell feel weary. He never looked out of the stairwell windows. He concentrated on his feet and the bannister to avoid stumbling. Wouldn’t anyone do the same? “Come into the sitting room,” he said. “Poppy’s getting ready.”
When Poppy appeared from her bedroom, she was trying to stuff a scarf into her bag. He had already seen her packing her floppy cat, three lip balms and an atlas.
“We’re only going away for a night,” he said, sensing the excitement radiating from her. “It’s too hot to take a scarf.”
“It can protect me from the sun.”
“That’s good strategic thinking,” Mitchell relented.
Liza looked around the room, at his sofa, coffee table and tiny TV. “Nice. Have you just moved into this place?”
“Dad’s been here for ages,” Poppy said.
“Really?” Liza looked at the bare light bulb hanging above the dining table. “It’s...a bit naked.”
Poppy giggled at her choice of word, and Mitchell picked up the batch of letters from his coffee table. “We have most things we need,” he said.
“Except lightshades?” Liza shrugged.
“And a garden,” Poppy added.
Mitchell managed a small wry smile as he picked up his overnight bag. “Hopefully, Jean’s place will have both,” he said.
* * *
Carl sat at his desk in the lobby, his head bent and his fingers working nimbly on a small square of white paper. Within seconds, he’d transformed it into a delicate lotus blossom. “Have you finished school for the summer holidays now?” he asked when he saw Poppy. He offered her the flower.
“Yep. And now we’re going on a trip.”