Читать книгу Perfect Strangers: an unputdownable read full of gripping secrets and twists - Erin Knight - Страница 10

4

‘Muuum? I can’t see, this water is dirty, I can’t see!’

‘You’re breathing all over the glass, Maxy. Look,’ Sarah grinned and pointed Max’s rolled-up activity sheet, ‘there’s your nose print.’

Max drummed his finger against the tank. ‘How is Pete the Pleth-io-thaur going to fit into this tank though, Mummy? When they are bigger than our house?’

Sarah’s heart leapt for the occasional lisp Max had adopted. It only caught here and there, she would be robbed of it altogether once his big teeth came through. She swept the blonde hair from Max’s eyes. He could be a poster child for Fallenbay’s surf culture. People were always mistaking him for Jon’s child. Unlike Will, Max looked nothing like their father. Yet. Will had been blonder at five too though. In a heartbeat he’d become a teenager, Patrick’s dark waves steadily trampling Sarah’s genes into submission. Will had inherited most of his dad’s brooding features now; they were all Patrick Harrison had bothered leaving of himself for his children to hang on to.

‘I wish Will came to the aquarium,’ sighed Max. ‘I need a piggyback so I can see in this tank.’

‘You know, you’re pretty lucky having your very own fifteen-year-old, Maxy.’ Max was the centre of the Harrison-Hildred household, everything seemed to orbit him like a crudely evolved planetary system. Football tournaments, swimming lessons, Sarah, Jon, Will – each spinning about Max at differing rates of significance. Max’s footings were solid; it was Will always on the periphery. Why was it so tricky? Fathoming out a rhythm that worked equally for the four of them? It felt like bobbing for apples sometimes: the closer Sarah tried moving Jon and the boys towards a common centre, the further away Will bobbed.

You’ll get him back, darling! her mother had reassured. He’s a teenager, let him get his angst out of his system. Only, Will wasn’t showing any angst. She’d quite like for Will to have a blow out, break something, slam a few doors. Instead of always being on the other side of one.

You’re looking a gift horse in the mush! Cleo had snorted over their breakfast at Coast last week. Be glad Will’s not into skimpy clothes and warpaint. Have you seen Evie’s eyebrows lately? I’m not kidding, Sar, I’m thinking of hiding her stash. Why can’t I have a normal teenager? Who does alco-pops or ciggies? Why does mine have to do kohl?

Sarah felt a tug on her sleeve. Max steered her to the next exhibit. Maybe she should be more grateful for Will’s nonchalance instead of analysing it like a mad scientist, pinning it on all the change she was inflicting on him. The house move. The wedding. The intricacies of a second marriage.

Her stomach lurched. It did that rather a lot lately. You are not pregnant, she reassured herself. You’re just a liar.

‘Mummy, you’re ringing.’

‘Careful, Max, you’ll pull my arm off.’ She fumbled through her bag, ‘maybe it’s Will, changing his mind about meeting us?’ It would be nice knowing where Will was spending any of his free time nowadays. She glanced at the caller ID, flicked off the volume and slid the phone into her jacket pocket.

‘Was it Will?’ Great orbs of light and shadow slid from the aquarium walls over Max’s hopeful face.

‘Nope. Only the estate agents, kiddo. Today’s a family day, they can wait.’

A new vibration thrummed over her chest. Resistance was futile. ‘Just a second, Max. They probably want to organise the For Sale sign. Hello?’

‘Hello, Mrs Hildred?’

She forgave him his mistake. Mothers in their mid-to late-thirties normally were married, weren’t they? Normally. It was all she’d ever wanted for the boys, a bit of normality. Positive role models. Love. Honesty. ‘Speaking.’

‘Hello, Tom here, Thacker and Daughters estate agents. I’m delighted to be ringing you with great news! We’ve received an offer on Milling Street.’

‘An offer?’ She could hear that almost-laughter thing her voice did when something ominous was coming and she needed to buy time before it hit. Like Ofsted declaring they were about to spring an inspection on Hornbeam. ‘But . . . but we’ve only just gone on the market, we’ve had one viewing!’

‘Impressive, isn’t it?’

‘Yes . . . But I’m afraid we’re not taking anything less than the asking price.’

‘More good news, Mrs Hildred! The purchasers have offered the full asking price.’

Sarah winced. ‘But we haven’t even got our For Sale board up!’ Think. Were they in a chain? ‘We don’t want to be in a chain. Not even a short one.’ She felt sweaty. She was useless at bluffing.

‘Cash buyer, Mrs Hildred. Super, hey?’

Acceptance settled swiftly. She’d always been the accepting sort. ‘Can I get Jonathan to call you back, I’m just in the middle of something important with my son?’

Max buried his finger in his ear and began twisting it back and forth. She made a mental note to check if that crusty old bottle of hand sanitiser was still lurking in the bottom of her bag.

‘I’ll look forward to his call, Mrs Hildred. Cheerio.’

She shut off the phone. ‘Stupid estate agents, working on bank holidays.’ Max looked a question at her. They weren’t allowed to say stupid. ‘Sorry, kiddo. Come on, let’s see if we can find any of Godzilla’s cousins anywhere in the other tanks. Oh, look, Cretaceous Asia. Godzilla’s a Japanese dinosaur, right?’

Max looked up at her. ‘Godzilla isn’t a normal dinosaur, Mummy.’

‘Isn’t he?’

‘No. He’s made up from different bits of different dinosaurs.’

‘I see.’ She hadn’t got boxes. Sarah and the boys hadn’t even viewed any of the properties on the flashy cliffside development Jon had all the glossy brochures for. Compass Point. Navigate your family to a better lifestyle. Sarah cringed inwardly every time Jon pulled one out. Now he’d put an eye-watering deposit down. It was happening. Already. When everyone, everyone, said house sales dragged out, how they’d be on the market for months. Will’s GCSEs were starting soon, they couldn’t move now. Should’ve made more of a stand then, shouldn’t you? Now it’s too late.

‘What’s do you think my favourite bit is, Mummy?’

‘Hmm?’

‘My favourite Godzilla bit? Guess, Mummy.’

Sarah rubbed her forehead. ‘Tail?’ How was she going to break it to Will? He loved Milling Street. He loved his room, school ten minutes away by bike, the beach and harbour shops not even that.

‘Teeth!’

‘Hmm? Oh, his teeth. I see.’

‘No, look Mummy, teeth!’

She looked through the water. Something grimaced back at them. Max squealed with delight. ‘Jon! I know it’s you, Jon, I touched a shrimp with my actual finger!’ Max ran around the water tube, slamming into Jon’s legs.

‘Hey, big fella! Having fun? What did I miss? Where have you been? What did you see? Ready for flapjack?’

Jon had caught the sun over the weekend. Sarah had stifled a giggle last night when he’d shown her his new wetsuitshaped paler parts. Her body still reacted to him of course. It was her brain currently finding its role uncertain. Jon was handsome, charismatic, kind. Just because her mind was cautious didn’t mean her eyes didn’t enjoy what they could feast on. It was no different to Cleo tempting her with a fat slice of tiramisu when she was watching her calories. See how delicious it looks, Sarah, any sane woman would fancy a slice of that! Jon inspected Max’s crumpled activity sheet attentively, head furrowed in concentration, eyes bright and serious. Yes. Any sane woman would.

Did it really matter that the butterflies never fully arrived? She wasn’t a teenager any more for goodness sake, she and Jon were still compatible. Conversationally. Physically. Just, no butterflies. No big deal. Okay, so there had very definitely been butterflies when Patrick first burst into her life. Great big swarming butterflies of epic proportions, like Mothra, Godzilla’s giant winged adversary. But then Patrick was a bit of a shit, and so a bit of a shitty yardstick. If it weren’t for Max and Will, she’d regret ever clapping eyes on him. Their one-time adorable how-we-met story made her shudder now. Patrick swanning into the Students’ Union, shiny new camera swinging from his neck, bracing his hands at her table declaring Sarah’s to be the most perfect profile on campus and he’d know, he’d been staring through his lens at beautiful girls all day. I’m not a pervert, he’d assured her. Well, maybe one part pervert to four parts decent chap. She should’ve taken that swinging camera and garrotted him with it. Instead, she’d made love to Patrick Harrison all afternoon and fallen hopelessly in love, becoming Mrs Harrison by the following summer.

She glanced at Jon, Max still talking him through the creatures they’d already spotted. Jon was not a Patrick. And even though she didn’t feel butterflies, she still felt something every morning when Jon walked out suited and booted for work, and even more so now, while he was at his absolute best in casual weekend T-shirt and jeans mode. With Max, who adored him. She was lucky to get another shot at this. A family for the boys. At times she wondered if there’d been some silly mix-up. As if she was the wrong suitcase Jon had mistakenly plucked off the airport conveyor belt and was now too embarrassed to return to its rightful owner because of his own sheer stupidity at getting something so utterly obvious so utterly wrong. But only dimwits like her did things like that – although in her defence, a surprise trip to Portugal with a ten-year-old and a colicky newborn had turned out to be a particularly disorientating experience.

Now here she was. Four years into her second chance and Jon still hadn’t decided he’d made a terrible mistake. He just kept on driving her and the boys towards a hopeful horizon. It was the strangest thing.

‘Whoa, Maxy . . . Who’s this beautiful creature you’ve found in the aquarium? Can we take her home and keep her?’

Sarah’s shoulders relaxed again. ‘You looked like one of those gurners through the water,’ she smiled. ‘Reminded me a little of my Aunt Linda.’ None of Sarah’s father’s side were much for smiling, too busy in-fighting over big egos and small inheritances.

Jon slipped his hand under the hem of her jacket. ‘And you looked like a siren.’ He pulled her into him. He was wearing the terrible Spiderman aftershave Max had bought him for Father’s Day last year. Sarah let him kiss her, hoping it might be enough to chase away the fresh doubt. ‘What do you think, Maxy, is Mum hiding a mermaid tail under this long dress, do you think?’

Max shrugged. He didn’t care for mermaids. Sarah took a deep breath. ‘The estate agent just called.’

‘I know, he left me a voicemail. So, what do you think?’

Seventeen years she’d lived in that house. Will and Max’s only home. ‘Bit scary, I guess.’

‘And a little bit exciting?’

‘Sure. It’s just . . .’

‘A big change?’ Jon kissed her on the head and gave the back of her neck a gentle, reassuring squeeze. ‘It’ll be okay, Sarah. I promise. This is going to be a great move for us. All of us. Especially Will.’ He nuzzled into her. ‘This is mine and Will’s chance to start a new chapter together. Not as a confused young boy and his school counsellor, or wary son and the guy who moved in, but as equals, Sarah. This is our chance to start from zero, as equals. A solid family unit.’