Half the World Away - страница 4

‘See the heron?’ I say. The bird is almost overhead, coming from the pond. Isaac looks up.

‘Hey, Finn,’ I call across. He’s on his back, on the roundabout, his feet dangling over the edge onto the ground, slowly walking it around. ‘See the heron?’

We watch it fly out of sight. ‘Time to go,’ I say.

‘It flies high,’ Finn says, as I’m untying Benji.

‘Yes.’

‘Like Lori in an airplane.’

‘Aeroplane. That’s right. And where’s Lori gone?’

‘Thailand.’

‘Why’s it called Thailand?’ says Isaac. ‘Do they all wear ties?’

‘No. Nice idea but it’s a different spelling, a different word.’

‘I made a card for her,’ Finn says, ‘with all of us on, me and Daddy and you and Isaac and Lori and Benji.’ He grasps my hand. ‘Did she like it?’

‘She will. She’ll open the case and there it will be. And there’s a picture from Isaac, too,’ I say.

Isaac is crouched at the edge of the path. ‘A feather.’ He holds it out to me. Black with a metallic glint in the light.

‘That’s lovely.’

Nick gets back later than usual, staying at the office to make up the hours he missed the day before. I’ll wait to eat with him, feed the boys first. While the pair of them watch television and Isaac draws herons and pterodactyls over and over again, I go up to strip Lori’s bed.

The carpet is littered with scraps of paper, items of clothing, spent matches and torn Rizla packets. Several dirty cups stand on her bedside table, with a half-empty bottle of Coca-Cola and biscuit wrappers. I can smell the perfume she wears – Marc Jacobs’s Daisy that we got her for Christmas. The room is decorated in the deep green she chose a few years ago and one wall is a collage of photographs. Some of her own and others from magazines and websites. She’s built it up, sticking the pictures on with glue, and it now fills the whole wall. There’s never been any theme to it, as far as I know. It’s a mix of portraits, landscapes, nature photography and action scenes. I find it too busy, overwhelming the space, but it’s not my space. Not yet. If she moves out when she’s back from her travels then maybe we’ll redecorate. See what she wants to do with the photos. They’ll have to be stripped off the wall and they’ll likely be damaged in the process.

Finn and Isaac are happy with the bunk beds for now but eventually I think they’ll want their own rooms – at least, Isaac will. Before then it’ll be nice to have a guest room. But who knows what Lori will choose to do? Her plans extend only as far as Christmas when her travels end and it’ll be back to the harsh realities of job-hunting in a recession.

‘You got her text?’ The first thing Nick says when he gets back.

‘Yes.’

He studies me for a moment.

‘I’m OK. Just getting used to it. Hate goodbyes. And after my mum…’ The sadness is still there, close to the surface.

He nods, gives a small smile. ‘They asleep?’

‘Yes. And Isaac wants to know what feathers are made of. I’ll leave that one to you, something an environmental engineer should know.’

‘We know everything.’

I fetch the salad from the fridge, dole out lasagne. Nick pours wine.

‘She might not live here again,’ I say.

‘Jo, you said that when she went to Glasgow. If she moves out, new phase,’ he says, ‘that’s life.’ He raises his glass. ‘To life.’

I share the toast, comforted by his reassurance.

‘And how is Tom?’ Nick says.

It’s a few days later. We’ve not heard from Lori since she landed and I’ve just sent an email. A couple of lines. Hoping she’ll not feel I’m pestering her. Remembering my own experience when I was away at uni and duty-bound to phone home every week, knowing my parents worried if I didn’t.

‘Same as ever,’ I tell Nick, scrolling through the TV guide. ‘He always lands on his feet. The apartments are going great guns. So he’ll probably chuck it in soon,’ I add.

‘Getting bored,’ Nick says.

‘Lori told him off for being late,’ I say.

Nick laughs. ‘Seriously?’

‘I kid you not. I didn’t say anything.’

‘Pot, kettle, apple from tree?’

‘Not a peep. Game of Thrones or True Detective?’ I waggle the remote.

Nick shakes his head. ‘I’m going up. Site visit tomorrow. I’ll reset the alarm.’