Page 11 of By His Side

There was a moment where it looked like no one was in before a figure appeared behind the textured glass. The door opened slowly to reveal a woman with impeccable hair and make-up who looked to be in her late forties. If she was Felix’s mother, mathematics and common sense said that wasn’t possible, given Felix was in his early thirties. She had a tan and white chihuahua cradled in her arms, the dog lying there passively like it was used to being treated like a member of royalty and carried everywhere.

“Hi Mum,” Felix said. “I’m out.”

“I can see that.” There was no smile and definitely no hug. Her gaze skated past Felix to me. “Who’s this?”

“My probation officer. He needs to see the house.”

“Does he?” The slight raise of a perfectly sculpted eyebrow said she was about as overjoyed by that piece of news as she was about the appearance of her son on her doorstep. I was beginning to see why her decision to let him stay had taken so long.

Hoping to make things less awkward, I stepped forward with a big smile and held out my hand. “Darien Quinn. It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Church. I just need to take a quick look around, if that’s okay? It should only take a few minutes and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

She took my hand, but it had to be up there as the briefest and most perfunctory handshake I’d ever received. “What is it exactly you’re looking for?”

I tamped down on the temptation to give her the same answer as I had her son, sensing she wouldn’t find it remotely funny. I didn’t fancy the extra paperwork required in reporting that access to the property had been denied. It would cause me problems, and it would cause Felix problems. “It’s mainly a box ticking exercise with private residences. Nothing more than that.”

She let out a little sigh, the dog stirring in her arms in response to the noise. “You’d better come in then.” Her gaze strayed back to her son, a look I couldn’t identify flashing across her face before she masked it. “Both of you.”

I followed Felix over the threshold, and she led us into a large kitchen that was all black surfaces and chrome polished to within an inch of its life. She deposited the dog in a small basket by the door before turning to face us. “Tea, Mr. Quinn?”

I gave her the smile I’d once been told could stop wars. “Call me Darien, please. And…” I’d been going to say that tea wasn’t necessary, but something in Felix’s expression stopped me—an inkling that he’d appreciate me sticking around to run interference between him and his mother. It wasn’t usually part of my job description, but I liked to think of myself as fairly accommodating and there was a first time for everything. “Tea would be great,” I said, as Felix took a seat at the kitchen table. I jerked my head toward the door we’d just come through. “Am I okay just to look around, or would you rather I wait so you can give me a tour?”

I aimed the question at both Felix and his mother, but it was Mrs. Church who answered, Felix busy studying his hands. “Go ahead,” she said. “I have nothing to hide.”

I went ahead, and I took my time. Perhaps all mother and son needed was some alone time. It was possible that my presence had made it hard for them to express their emotions. It was a lovelyhouse, the décor fitting of such an expensive residence with plenty of varnished wood and white surfaces. Halfway through my tour, the tour guide appeared to follow me from room to room, his claws clicking on the wooden floor. After a few minutes of being my shadow, I gave in and picked him up.

He proved to be good company as I continued on my way, offering a yap as I commented on the scenic view of Hampstead Heath from one window, the house backing onto it. He offered another yap when I asked if he went for walks there. I’d had clients that weren’t that chatty. The jury was still out, though, whether it was a yes or no yap, my command of dog language pretty shoddy.

One bedroom was clearly the master bedroom, the room containing lots of feminine touches. I’d expected to stumble across a childhood bedroom for Felix, but if there’d ever been one, there were no longer any traces of it. Maybe he’d fudged the truth when he’d claimed it was his childhood home.

When my journey around the house hadn’t unearthed anything more dangerous than a floor in one of the three bathrooms that was probably quite slippery when it was wet—and I couldn’t delay it any longer—I headed back to the kitchen with the chihuahua still in my arms.

If anything, the atmosphere in the kitchen had grown more frosty, not less. They both sat at the kitchen table, less than a meter away from each other, but from their body language, it may as well have been different counties. “I made a friend,” I said as I re-entered the room, wanting them both to be aware I was there.

Mrs. Church offered a smile. “Samson has always been friendly with strangers. A little too friendly, sometimes. I worry that one day he will run off with one.”

“I doubt that,” I said, because it seemed like the right thing to say as I placed him back in his basket. “I’m sure he knows where he’s better off.”

There was an honest to god cup and saucer waiting for me in front of an empty seat at the table, along with a jug of milk and a bowl full of sugar. It was a far cry from the polystyrene cups, UHT milk, and sachets of sugar that I usually existed on during my working day. Mrs. Church watched me as I poured milk in my tea and added sugar. “I trust everything was to your satisfaction, Mr. Quinn?”

I’d given up on getting her to call me Darien. I doubted our interactions were going to be frequent enough that it would matter. And it wasn’t like she’d told me her first name, never mind invited me to use it. She looked like a Petunia or a Hyacinth—something flowery that would match her choice of decoration in the master bedroom. “Everything was absolutely fine,” I said. I stole a glance at Felix, hoping to catch his eye and lessen the tension by prompting him to remember what I’d joked about finding, but he was having none of it, his face turned away.

I drank my tea as quickly as I could, the silence getting to me in a way it never usually did. As soon as I’d drunk enough to be polite, I rose from the table. “Well, it’s been lovely to meet you, Mrs. Church.”

She inclined her head. “Likewise.”

I carried out a pantomime check of my watch, complete with raised eyebrows that said,gosh, is that the time?“Unfortunately, I need to get back to the office.”

I turned Felix’s way. “Perhaps you could see me out, Felix. There are a couple of things I could do with discussing. Things I forgot to mention on the way here.”

Felix almost fell over himself in his haste to do what I’d suggested, his mother saying nothing as he got up from the table. He didn’t speakuntil we were out in the front garden with the door closed. “She hates me,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice. “She’s never forgiven me for bringing shame on the family.”

I focused on a rosebush, a bee flitting from flower to flower in search of nectar. “I’m sure she doesn’t hate you.” I wasn’t sure of that at all. Not after what I’d just witnessed. A less frosty welcome would have been hard to imagine. “These things take time.”

“These things?”

“Readjusting to life outside. Repairing damaged relationships. You’ve barely seen each other for seven years. You can’t expect things to go back to the way they were immediately.” I’d slipped easily into my usual reassurances, but they didn’t seem enough this time. Perhaps because the expression on Felix’s face said he knew they were a crock of shit. “She let you stay here,” I added feebly. “She didn’t have to do that.”

His mouth twisted, and I had a feeling I was seeing the real Felix Church, his mother’s coldness toward him and the fact that I’d witnessed it, no doubt not the easiest thing to deal with on a day that was already difficult. “Yeah.”

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