Page 32 of The Psychopath Next Door

‘Fiona doesn’t care about ancient history,’ Rose said.

‘Hey!’

But it made everyone laugh, except Dylan, who was still clutching his belly. I’d noticed him sneaking a few looks at Fiona, who was almost glowing after her sunbathing session. Every now and then something would remind me that he was far from a child – that he was a young man who’d been on dates and who no doubt watched all sorts of horrible stuff on his phone. Emma had made me talk to him about how porn was not a realistic depiction of sex, the importance of consent, etc. It had been a painful conversation for both of us, and I’d been relieved when he’d asked me to stop.They drill all this stuff into us at school.

So yeah, he was a teenager, fizzing with hormones, but it was still uncomfortable to see the way he looked at Fiona, who was old enough to be his mother.

‘Can I go to my room?’ he asked.

‘Good idea,’ I said.

‘Are you not feeling well?’ Emma asked. She leaned over to lay her palm on his forehead. ‘Were you out in the sun today? I hope you put plenty of sunscreen on. And drank enough water.’

‘I just ate too much. Or maybe the burgers were undercooked.’

‘I thought they were perfect,’ Fiona said, and I was surprised to see Dylan’s lip curl. He muttered something under his breath.

‘You’re not too invalided to help carry some plates in,’ I said, standing up. ‘Come on.’

I handed him a couple of plates and grabbed some myself, then followed him through the patio doors into the kitchen.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ I asked him.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

‘You were muttering under your breath at Fiona. You shouldn’t be rude to her.’And you shouldn’t stare at her either, I wanted to say.

‘Why, because she gives you free babysitting?’

It was rare for Dylan to be grumpy like this. Recently, anyway. There’d been times at our old house when his moods had been black, but I had always believed that was because of the atmosphere in the house at that time. Since coming here, he’d seemed a lot happier.

‘Do you have an issue with Fiona?’ I asked.

‘Huh? No, of course not. I just ...’

‘Just what?’

‘I dunno.’

I sighed. I wasn’t going to get anything out of him. ‘All right, I’ll talk to you later,’ I said. I grabbed the dessert, a shop-bought lemon tart, from the fridge and carried it out with me.

On my way back to the garden I swayed a little and realised I was tipsy. I’d lost track of how many times I’d refilled my glass from the jug of Pimm’s, although I was the only one drinking it. When I got back to the table I saw that my glass was full again and the jug was more than half empty.

I set the dessert down and addressed Fiona. ‘Want some?’

‘I’m not sure. Does it have any nuts in it?’

‘Oh. Let me check the box.’ I went back and fetched the box from the kitchen. ‘Sorry.Not suitable for persons with an allergy to nuts because of manufacturing methods.’

‘Damn. Oh well.’

‘You’re allergic too?’ Rose said to her.

‘Uh-huh. I shouldn’t have any more anyway. I’m watching my weight. I want to still look good in my bikini.’

She met my eye. I had been going to ask what Rose had meant when she’d said ‘too’ – who else was allergic to nuts? – but I’m ashamed to admit the bikini comment distracted me.

‘Emma told me you got made redundant during the pandemic,’ I said, hurriedly changing the subject. ‘That must have been hard.’

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