‘Now what?’ Dad sidles up beside me.
I scratch my fingers through my hair. ‘I think I’ll worry about the rest of it tomorrow.’
‘Correct answer,’ he says.
Without a thorough clean, it was a little useless unpacking everything. Instead, I do the bare minimum, running the vacuum across the floor, wiping down benchtops and making sure my television didn’t die en route. Oh, and crack open the brand-new bed sheets Fiona has gifted me, because I am sleeping like a queen tonight.
When Adam suggests a takeaway dinner, we huddle around his phone and shout the names of dishes at him like we’re in a bingo hall. An hour later, a delivery driver unloads his loot at the front door. Before he leaves, he quips that he thought the place was abandoned. Where have we been all this time, in the basement?
We’re weird, I’ll give him that, but we’re not quite the family from The Burbs just yet. Simply moved back to the area, I explain as he does an embarrassed shuffle back to his scooter. And despite his first impression, when the four of us are together we do work in a lovely synchronisation.
Fiona wipes down the table, which has suffered a light scratch on its journey today. Dad lays out placemats and all the plastic cutlery that had been stuffed in the takeaway bag. I find candles at the bottom of a box, and they serve as makeshift centrepieces while Adam pours out wine. For a moment, we sit in stunned silence, taking each other in, my brother and father wearing identical smirks, Fiona with her face hidden behind an oversized glass of wine and me, dumbfounded that I actually took the leap to get here.
‘Well, shit.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I’m back.’
‘Only took you ten years,’ Dad says. ‘Oh, I’m just going to try my luck in London for the summer. I’ll be right back.’
Adam sniggers, which starts everyone else laughing. As we eat from each other’s plates and fight over the mix of Indian, Chinese and Thai cuisines, we take turns replaying our own version of London’s Greatest Hits. All the old stories I thought were long buried come churning up to the surface again. It’s the second week in a row we’ve done this as a family and, I must admit, I’m enjoying it way more than I thought I would.
‘So, Adam, where’s Soph?’ Dad asks. ‘She okay?’
Until now, he’s looked more relaxed than I’ve seen him in months. That tired grey glint in his eye had disappeared long enough for him to look under forty again. Now, he shifts like he’s been winded. ‘Yeah, she’s fine. She’s good, just a lot of work going on right now. Plus, she felt like she’d kind of get in the way today.’
‘Rubbish.’ Dad places his glass down a little too hard. ‘She could’ve helped with something. We would’ve found her something to lug about.’
‘That’s what I said.’ He looks away quickly. That was a lie. ‘Next time, hey?’
‘Not to worry.’ Fiona looks at my brother. ‘How’s your week been otherwise?’
‘It’s been busy.’ He nods, twisting noodles around his fork as he nods in my direction. ‘But this one here is giving me something else to think about.’
I groan. ‘Sorry.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ he insists. ‘It’s been a nice break actually. I think I’m getting too caught up in the Monday to Friday of things, so I’m appreciating being dragged out of it. Fresh air and different faces and all that.’
‘What have you got coming up? Any big cases?’ Dad asks.
‘I’m hoping for a quiet one this week. I’m meeting the estate agent at Katharine’s flat on Monday morning. Easier than her coming back and forth,’ Adam explains as he casts a glance my way. ‘Can you make sure you keep your phone on you this week?’
Shit, my phone. In the hullaballoo of moving, I’d forgot all about it.
‘Thank you for reminding me.’ I leap from my seat, dig around for my phone and its charger and plug it into a socket by my bed.
The room is quiet as I wait for that spark of life, the little battery icon to disappear before I find out who, if anyone has been trying to get hold of me. It’s barely awake before a quick succession of notifications start popping up.
‘Someone clearly wants to get hold of you,’ Dad quips. ‘Not someone you’ve got squirrelled away, is it?’
‘What?’ My head snaps back at him. ‘No.’
That’s not entirely a lie. They haven’t met John because, as it turns out, they were never going to. Though, judging by the half-dozen missed calls and increasingly desperate text messages, he might have had a quick change of heart after I left him on the station platform last night. I swallow down nerves and grapple for a change of subject.
‘You know who isn’t particularly good at answering his phone?’ I ask, flopping back down in my chair and point at my father. ‘Your friend Christopher.’
‘Hey? Kit? No, I was just talking to him at the craft market this morning. We caught up for breakfast before looking at art stalls.’ Dad reaches across the table for the bottle of wine. ‘Do you want me to call him for you?’
I shake my head. ‘It’s fine. I was hoping to talk to him about holding an exhibition here, but he’s not answering emails or his phone.’
‘That’s easy fixed.’ He grips the edge of the table and leans into the conversation. ‘Come to class tomorrow morning.’
I snort. ‘No. Thanks, but no.’
‘Why not? He’ll be there. You want to talk to him, it’s the best place to find him.’
‘I’m sure he’d much rather I didn’t.’ I look away nervously. ‘Plus, I’m sure his class is already full.’
Whatever comes out of my mouth in the next five minutes doesn’t register. My father has it in his head that I’m going tomorrow morning, no matter what. It’ll be good to polish my skills, he reminds me. I can be as flash and business-y as I like during the week, but I need to take the time to relax and meet new people, he says with a wink and a smile.
Urgh. Clearly the love boat is still docked and awaiting passengers.
Chapter 12
That’s exactly how I find myself outside Christopher’s home just before nine o’clock on a Sunday morning. After cursing and muttering and trying to explain to Dad that I didn’t want to go and that Christopher certainly wouldn’t want me there, I relent and find myself taking the short drive out of town towards Loxley, along the river and up into the small gravel car park.
All with the sound turned down so I can see where I’m going.
As my car rolls to a stop, I catch sight of the property in front of me. Like his website says, it’s a sizeable lot set against rolling acreage. The old-world charm of the stone homestead is offset by lush hedges and the more draconian concept of security cameras on high.
I remember this place from my childhood. Not because I’ve ever been here, but because it was always the grand old home seen on drives out of town, to picnic by the reservoir, or to the cemetery to visit Mum. I’d always wondered who lived behind the crotchety wooden farm gate.
Now I know and, sometimes, I think not knowing is more fun.
Considering class is due to begin in twenty minutes, I’m surprised to find I’m the sole occupant of the car park. The only other sign of life is an A-frame, complete with hand-drawn chalk lettering, pointing us towards an old barn-cum-classroom. Even birds are sitting prone on the hedge like they’re checking names and numbers.