Читать книгу Seven Days - Alex Lake, Alex Lake - Страница 14

Martin turned the gas hob on and put a pan of water on it. He stirred the Bolognese sauce. As the water began to bubble he heard the front door open.

Here she is, he thought, and walked out of the kitchen and into the hall.

It was Sandra and James. James was in his football kit, his bag over his shoulder. He slung it on to the stairs.

‘Don’t leave that blocking the stairs,’ Sandra said. ‘Go and put it away. And tidy your room while you’re up there.’ She looked at Martin and shook her head. ‘He’s a savage,’ she said.

Martin didn’t answer. She frowned. ‘Everything OK?’

Martin had a tense, almost nauseous, feeling in his stomach. Even though there was probably a simple explanation, he couldn’t avoid thinking the worst. He knew he was unnecessarily anxious, what his mum had called a ‘worry-wart’; whenever Sandra was out at night he couldn’t go to sleep until she was home, visions of car crashes or worse swimming in his head – but knowing he worried too much didn’t help. He was not the kind of father or husband or son who could relax and wait for news to come under the assumption it would be good. For him, no news was always bad news.

‘I thought you were Maggie,’ he said. ‘She’s not back yet. I called Anne and a couple of others. No one’s seen her.’

Sandra stared at him. For a moment there was worry in her eyes, but then she smiled. Unlike him, Sandra assumed that things were generally OK. ‘She’s a fifteen-year-old girl,’ she said. ‘She’s probably with a different friend. Or at the cinema.’

‘She should have told us.’

‘Yes, she should. But she didn’t. She’s not a little girl any more, Martin.’

‘I know.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I still worry though.’

‘I know you do. It’s one of your more attractive traits.’

‘It might be time to get her a phone,’ he said. ‘Then this won’t happen again.’

‘That’s probably why she’s stayed out,’ Sandra replied. ‘So she finally gets the white whale, the elusive mobile phone.’

‘Not fair!’ The call came from the top of the stairs. ‘If she gets a phone, I want one!’

‘You’re fourteen,’ Martin replied. ‘Not a chance. And wash your hands before dinner. It’s nearly ready.’