Читать книгу The Book of Rapture - Nikki Gemmell - Страница 25

Eventually Soli unwraps her limbs and coaxes Tidge back to her. Finally he comes. She lies with him, her arm a seatbelt over his torso. She holds and holds until he’s soothed into the release of sleep, then gingerly extracts herself and pads to the cupboard.

‘Come on, you. It’s late.’

Mouse glares. Owl-awake. ‘I’m keeping guard. Someone has to. Thank God you’ve got me in this place. A bit of gratefulness wouldn’t go astray. Like, thanks, Mouse, for watching over us.’

No way is he getting back into that bed. You know why. There’s no grown-up to insist and it’s a room he doesn’t trust, ditto a sister with a secret and a brother too accepting, who’s fallen too easily into sleep. The moon outside is a sliver of a thumbnail. As bright as a bone. He’s staying up with it, all night if he must. It’s in the set of his mouth. Your worrier. Always thinking too much, everything cutting so deep. Too glary in his head is the enormity of navigating his way through life, he finds it so hard to shut off the fear. You’re anxious about the teenager he’ll become with all that complicated energy bottled up.

Your entire life, as a mother, is about anticipation. Of accidents, trip-ups, abductions, disasters. Second-guessing that walk to the corner shop, the crossing of the road, the swim at the beach, and God help them if they ever get near a motorbike. You’ll never stop the hovering. Motl says you have to, you must learn to let go. You retort that he doesn’t worry enough.

I alone dare not seek rest. The ordinances of heaven are inexplicable but I will not dare to follow my friends and leave my post.