Page 15 of The Psychopath Next Door

I recovered the power of speech. ‘As Rose keeps reminding me.’

‘Another difficult thing for a dad, I bet. Seeing his little girl grow up.’

‘Yeah. I always thought I’d be cool about it. When they were little, keeping us up all night, drawing on the walls, having tantrums, I used to long for the days when they were older. It’s hard – though, actually, it’s harder for Emma than it is for me.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, there’s ... tension. Rose thinks Emma babies her, doesn’t give her the freedom she craves. And Emma is a little bit ...’

Fiona waited, and I started to feel like I was being disloyal. I didn’t want to say any more.

But Fiona didn’t let it go. ‘Overprotective? Tries to keep her wrapped up in cotton wool?’

‘Something like that.’

It wasn’t only that. Rose constantly complained that Emma bossed her around too much, and I had to confess I had allowed Emma to take on that ‘bad cop’ role. She was the one who told Rose to tidy her bedroom, brush her hair, do her homework. I had the easier role: the fun parent. The one who played video games with them and took them to gigs and bought unhealthy takeaways.

‘Dylan seems easy enough.’

‘Yeah, he is. Girls are harder, though, right? That’s what everyone says. Or is it sexist to say that?’

She smiled. ‘Girls are definitely more of a challenge, especially to their mothers. That’s what mine said, anyway.’

While we were having this conversation, Emma had been talking to Nicola. Now she made her way back over the street, frowning. She nodded at Fiona but addressed me.

‘She’s in a terrible state.’

‘What happened?’

‘The boys were out on their bike this morning, riding up and down the footpath.’ She meant the path that ran alongside the fields. ‘According to Eric, when Albie was taking his turn, the front tyre burst and he was thrown off the bike into a tree. Hit his head pretty hard.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Fiona.

‘Eric said he wasn’t talking or responding.’

I could picture it. Hear the crack. ‘God, how awful.’

‘Terrible,’ said Fiona.

We heard movement and turned to see Tommy approaching with Albie in his arms. Tommy was attempting to jog but the boywas a dead weight. Seeing them, Nicola sprinted towards them, making a distressed keening noise, arms outstretched. Eric was there too, loping along behind his dad, looking pale and sick.

At the same moment we heard an ambulance, just before it came around the corner, blue lights flashing. Albie’s mum waved at it and it sped across to where they stood, two paramedics emerging, a man and a woman. Almost everyone in the neighbourhood was out on their front lawns, watching. The paramedics helped Tommy get Albie into the back of the ambulance, then Tommy came back out and Nicola took his place. Tommy and Eric stood outside the vehicle, the big man rubbing the back of his neck with one of his huge hands, his son small and scared beside him.

A minute later, the ambulance doors closed and it sped away, leaving father and son behind. Eric began to cry and Tommy put an arm around his son’s shoulders before leading him to their car. He almost stalled it in his haste to pursue the ambulance, black smoke emerging from the exhaust pipe as they turned off the estate.

Emma looked sick. ‘God, I hope he’s okay. He wasn’t moving, was he? And did you see the blood?’

‘Poor kid,’ Fiona said, before abruptly announcing, ‘But I can’t stand around gossiping all day.’

She went into her house, and as we turned to do the same I sensed movement above me. I looked up to see Rose at her bedroom window. She was gazing across the street towards Albie and Eric’s house.

There was a smile on her lips. Faint, barely visible, as enigmatic as the Mona Lisa’s, but absolutely there – until she saw me looking up at her and quickly rearranged her face, frowning with worry.

A smile? I made myself believe I had imagined it.

Back inside, I made coffee and thought about what to have for breakfast. Emma came into the kitchen, clearly disturbed by what had happened. ‘I’m going to have a bath,’ she said.

‘You don’t want a coffee?’

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