He got up and walked past Alex into the bedroom. Alex followed him in.
She shut the door after them. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“You were a fucking nightmare.”
Alex sat on the bed. She leaned sideways dramatically, till she fell onto the bed. She closed her eyes, then opened them slightly, peeking up at him.
Matt remained standing, looking down at her. “A horrible lush.”
“I missed your clicky nose. I couldn’t sleep without that click.”
“Fucking awful screechy banshee. I was like Where’s my nice girlfriend gone? And who put this troll in her place? You’d better apologize to Claire.”
Alex gave a small wail.
“What was that?”
“Me remembering things. Details.”
Matt sat down on the bed. “Serves you right.”
“You were horrible too.” Alex took a peek at Matt from under her lowered eyelids. “Hurtful.”
“Who are you to judge?” Matt’s tone was harsh, yet he took her hand between the two of his. “I’m surprised you’ve got any memory of it at all.”
“I remember.”
Matt looked down at her hand. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “How is your hangover, really? It must be bad.”
“I’m on pins. I’ve got cold waves washing up and down my back. I’m dizzy and it hurts to look up. I’m struggling to stand. Or even sit. Have you got any sunglasses with you?”
“It’s December. And you deserve the pain for being a cunt.”
“The singing upset me.”
Matt continued stroking her hand with his thumb.
“You seemed so happy together, you and Claire.”
“Don’t be stupid. Is that what all this was about?”
Alex squeezed her eyes shut. “Did you really still want to be with her when we got together?”
“Is that a real question?”
“Yes.”
Alex listened to the sound of Matt breathing. When he spoke again, his voice was serious.
“OK. At first, I did, yes. But then—pretty soon—no. Then definitely, absolutely, no way. I got together with you before I was completely over Claire. But that doesn’t change anything. I really liked you, from day one. I just had some shit to get over.”
Alex nodded into the pillow.
Matt squeezed her hand. “I was trying to upset you yesterday. Because you were being so awful.”
Alex closed her eyes against the pillow. “Can I ask you one more thing?”
A rotting smell reflected back at Alex from the pillow. She inched her face backward.
“Just one more?”
“I promise. Then I’ll put the crazy in a box forever.”
“OK.”
“Claire is wearing the same perfume you bought me last Christmas.”
Matt paused. “I bought it for her.”
“Did you buy it for me because you wanted me to smell like Claire?”
Matt straightened up instantly. “No!” He opened his eyes wide. “Al, of course not. Why would you ever think that?”
Alex stared at him.
Matt pushed his hair back from his eyes. “Al. I bought that perfume because it smelled nice in the shop, and I didn’t know what to get Claire for Christmas and I’d left it too late. So I bought two bottles, and I spent enough in the chemists’ to get a free electric razor, not that that was why. I was getting you some other stuff as well, so I didn’t think it would matter that I got you one present that was the same.”
“But you told me you didn’t get her anything.”
“I said that because I just didn’t want to tell you that I bought her the same thing as you. That I’m that kind of thoughtless dick.” Matt stroked her hand again. “But you’re a nasty lush, so we’re even.”
Alex heard a sound like raised voices. She strained to listen. “Can you hear that? Is it Claire and Patrick upstairs? Are they arguing now?”
Matt tilted his head to one side, listening.
There was a soft knock on the bedroom door.
“Dad?” Scarlett’s voice wobbled with fear.
“What is it, chicken?”
“There’s a spider.”
Alex felt Matt’s hand tense.
“It ran under the sofa, Dad. It’s as big as a door handle.”
Matt glanced at Alex, then quickly away. “I’m not dressed.”
Alex opened one eye. She looked the fully clothed Matt up and down.
“Is your mum not there?” Matt said carefully. “Or Patrick? I’m sure they’re up. I can hear voices.”
“They haven’t come downstairs yet.”
Matt took a deep breath. He stood up slowly. “Then I guess I’m coming, darling.”
Matt turned to Alex. “I’d better go, I suppose.”
Alex smiled despite her pain. “Do you want me to do it?”
“I want Scarlett to respect me. As a protector.”
“Give me a shout if you need me.”
“You think that will make up for last night?”
“A little. Maybe.” Alex gave him a tiny smile. “If it’s a big spider, it might.”
* * *
—
A minute later, Matt was back. “You’re up. It’s massive, as big as a carthorse. It’s got hooves and everything.”
Alex pushed herself up from the bed.
“You’re the designated animal murderer anyway, after Pheasantgate,” Matt said.
“You need to learn how to ask for a favor,” Alex said.
Alex entered the lounge. She was about to say something to Scarlett about the night before, but Scarlett just pointed at the sofa.
“It’s under there.”
Alex got on her hands and knees slowly, trying to control the dizziness. She looked under the sofa and found a reasonably sized house spider.
She caught the spider between her hands. “Can you open the front door so I can put it out?”
“Aren’t you going to kill it? Dad always kills them.”
Alex felt the scrabbling of the spider’s legs on her palms. “Why would I kill it? It’s done me no harm.”
Scarlett stared at Alex.
“You all right?” Alex said.
“You need to take it far away. Don’t just put it right outside the door.”
“I will.”
Alex didn’t want to put the spider down, for fear she wouldn’t catch it again, so she walked up the front path without putting shoes on, the cold gravel stinging her feet with every step. She took the spider across the road and set it down carefully by the lake.
She looked back at the house and was surprised to see Scarlett watching her carefully from the window.
* * *
—
Alex went back into the bedroom and shut the door behind her. She flopped back on top of the duvet.
“It wasn’t exactly a monster,” she said.
Matt hitched his shoulders in a mock-shudder. “I can still see it. I feel it like it’s walking up and down my spine. I need a shower. Don’t touch me. I’m jumpy.”
“Are we OK?” Alex said.
Matt brushed her hair out of her face. “You were really nasty.”
“But I removed the spider.”
“Yes. Yes, you did.”
“Does Scarlett hate me? Even more than she did already?”
“I expect so.” Matt nodded. “Probably. And if she doesn’t, she should.” Matt turned to the doorway and called out, “Scarlett?”
After a moment, Scarlett appeared in the doorway.
Matt patted the bed. “Come in here and talk to us.”
Scarlett sat down where he indicated.
Matt smiled at her. “Alex
has got a virus. She wasn’t very well last night.”
Scarlett studied Alex, unblinking. “She was tired, Dad. She was drunk.”
A fresh wave of cold washed down Alex’s spine.
Matt raised his eyebrows. “She was, Scar. She was.”
“You know she doesn’t like being called ‘Scar.’ Because of the bad lion in The Lion King. Stop shortening people’s names.” Alex made herself sit up. “I’m sorry, Scarlett. If I said anything that upset you. Or Posey. I was sad about something and I wasn’t thinking.”
Scarlett studied Alex for a minute longer. She turned to Matt. “You were tired last night too.”
“I was.” Matt sank onto the bed next to Scarlett and stroked her hair. “I know it hasn’t been perfect here. But it’s been so nice to have everyone I care about around me.”
Scarlett looked at her feet. She kicked the air limply.
Matt glanced at Alex then back to Scarlett. “You know Posey’s your best friend? Well, Alex is mine.”
Alex reached down for Matt’s hand. She squeezed it.
“And I need you to tell Posey to be nicer to her. Because Posey can be quite cutting.”
Alex leaned an inch toward Scarlett. “I’m sorry I tried to feed Posey a carrot.”
Scarlett looked down at the bed.
“Are you OK?” Matt asked.
“Posey and me had an argument last night,” Scarlett said. “He wasn’t there when I went to look for him in the airing cupboard this morning.”
“What was the argument about?” Matt asked.
Scarlett shook her head. “It’s private.”
“I’m sorry to hear you argued,” Matt said. “Sometimes, after a row, guys just need a little space.”
“Do you forgive me?” Alex asked Scarlett. “For what I said when I was drunk?”
Scarlett turned to Alex. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“You’re a scientist.”
Alex nodded.
“And that means you cut up rabbits. For fun.”
Alex blinked. “No. No, it doesn’t.”
Matt laughed. “Is that what you think? Alex doesn’t cut up rabbits for fun, or for anything else. She’s not that kind of scientist. There are different kinds.”
Scarlett peered at Alex. “Then what kind is she?”
Alex turned to Matt. “This’ll be interesting.”
“She”—Matt cleared his throat—“works in the university. Something to do with cells. And diabetes.”
“Go on, tell Scarlett more,” Alex said.
Matt gave Alex a pleading look. He turned back to Scarlett. “She does experiments on cells taken from humans during surgery. Humans that are alive, and have agreed to it, and they’re under anesthetic.” He turned to Alex. “Is that close enough?”
“Close-ish.”
Scarlett looked like she was processing this information.
“Anything else you want to know?” Alex asked.
Scarlett narrowed her eyes. “What other animals have you killed? Don’t leave any out. Posey is quite scared of you because you’re a scientist. And he’s a rabbit.”
“Animals I’ve killed? In my whole life?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to answer,” Matt said quickly.
“I don’t mind.” Alex thought. “Well, I killed that pheasant, as you know. I think that’s the biggest animal I’ve killed.”
Scarlett nodded.
“And I’ve twice stepped on a frog, by accident. And loads of snails too, I don’t know how many. I don’t always look where I’m going.”
Scarlett looked like she was processing this.
“And I went fishing once, with my dad, but then I didn’t actually catch anything.”
“Eating fish is disgusting,” Scarlett said.
Alex nodded. “I agree. Completely. It should be banned.”
“Yes,” Scarlett said.
Alex thought again. “I can’t think of anything else I’ve killed.”
“And you don’t kill spiders.”
“There’s no need. Oh…I’ve just remembered, I destroyed a wasp’s nest once. So that’s thousands of wasps.”
“But that’s wasps,” Scarlett said. “They’re evil. They don’t count.”
Alex shrugged.
“So you don’t kill animals.”
“No. Though I should add, for completeness, primate tissue samples are particularly useful when—”
“I think you’ve answered Scarlett’s question, don’t you?” Matt looked at his watch deliberately. “We’re going to have to leave in a bit. To go and see Santa.”
Alex glanced at Matt. “I don’t think I’m well enough to see Santa this morning. Not yet.”
Matt turned to Scarlett. “How about we go and see Santa with your mum, and then Alex takes you to the ice cream hut afterward? Hopefully her virus will be better by then. I know Alex wants to buy you an ice cream sundae.”
Alex sensed the morning-after fug around her. She covered her mouth with her hand and pulled her pajama top further down. “I’ll shower first, of course.”
“What about you?” Scarlett asked Matt. “And Mum? What will you do?”
Matt stood up. “I can always go skateboarding.”
Alex rolled her eyes and Matt gave her a soft punch in the gut.
He turned back to Scarlett. “I’ll chat with your mum about a few things—about you, probably. That’s what me and your mum normally talk about. You, all day and all night, and we never get bored.” He turned to Alex. “Do you mind?”
Alex gave a small smile. “Of course not. Not now.”
Scarlett looked up from her feet. She stared at Alex for a minute, holding her head to one side.
“I will let you buy me an ice cream today.”
Alex gave a tiny nod. “Thank you.”
49
At four A.M., Patrick had had enough. He tried to shake Claire awake but she just mumbled into the pillow.
“Just go back to sleep. Everything will look different in the morning.” That’s what she said. Like he was a child.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Go for a run or something.”
“It’s pitch-black outside.”
She didn’t answer. She’d given him enough of her time, it seemed.
Patrick waited for morning, his legs jiggling on the mattress, his mind churning on a repetitive loop.
She’d never encouraged him to go for a run before. Never.
At five A.M., Patrick did press-ups on the landing.
At six A.M., he crept downstairs and grabbed Scarlett’s Frozen pad from the TV table, along with her pencil with an unidentified fluffy animal that swung from the top as he wrote.
Patrick wrote and wrote till the pencil was blunt. Six sides of paper.
Dearest Claire,
I’ve been lying here thinking about how much you mean to me, and I’m not sure I tell you enough. So here we go.
I love the little things about you. I love how you sleep with an arm over your face, lifting up the front of your nose like a piglet’s. Do you know you do that? It’s gorgeous.
I love how your hair overlaps everywhere in the morning. I love how you eat cereal so delicately.
I even love how you just tuck your shoelaces into your trainers without tying the laces up, although I know I’ve said in the past that it could make you trip.
I love how you make that snorting sound when you laugh really hard. (That’s another pig reference, I see that now. But Claire—lovely Claire—please don’t read too much into this.)
I love that you have such a naturally tiny waist and runners’ legs, even though you never do any exercise.
I love your stir-fries. I lov
e your sea bass. In fact, I love all the food you cook, and how good you are naturally at creating balanced nutritional ratios.
I love that you cook for me. I love how you make me feel loved. The first time I met you, you said to that receptionist, “Just think: Whatever, arseface,” and I thought—Yes! That’s a woman I want on my side.
I love how generous you are. I love how kindly you laugh when someone makes a joke that isn’t funny, just to make them feel better.
I love what a good mother you are to Scarlett. I love how you always want good things for my kids, even though they call you the Blandwitch. (If I’ve not mentioned that before, please pretend I didn’t mention it. Please don’t let this ruin my love letter. It’s because of something to do with sandwiches that happened the first time you met them—I don’t understand the reference properly, but I know they don’t mean it. They’re just young and under the spell of a certain unhelpful influence who I’m not going to taint this letter by mentioning.)
I love how you’re so certain about things, how you always know what you think on every subject at that point in time. Yet I love that you are so changeable and I can’t always predict what you think about something, even though sometimes it can look like I’m quite frustrated about that. Deep down, I love it.
I am so proud of you when anyone mentions you at work. I want to shout out, “The solicitor, Claire Petersen? Isn’t she wonderful?”
I am your ever-willing servant. I will protect you from earthquakes and volcanos if I can. I’ll be like your human shield. Your very loving human shield.
I love you, Claire.
Kind regards,
Patrick
At the first sign of Claire stirring, Patrick leaped up and pulled the curtains open.
Claire squeezed her eyes shut and jerked onto her front. “Christ, Patrick,” she said face-first into her pillow.
Patrick held out the letter. “I’ve written you a letter.”
Claire didn’t move.
“Don’t you want it?”
“I have literally just woken up. You watched me wake up.”
Patrick’s letter arm sagged.
“And I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
All the fear of the previous night came rushing back. “What did you mean last night, ‘what’s going on with us’?”
The Adults Page 23
