Page 60 of The Last Train Home
All this has spared Abbie from answering and so I offer her a cup of tea, which she accepts. As the kettle boils, I put my back against the counter and watch her while she looks around the room, taking in the family photos, the books on the shelves, my collection of films, Teddy’s toys and nappies stashed under his changing unit. She looks back at me, surprised to see me with my arms folded, watching her.
‘You didn’t come,’ she says.
I shake my head. ‘I couldn’t.’
‘You promised,’ she goes on, but not in anger, or petulantly. It’s just a statement.
‘I know. I’m sorry. I had no choice. I didn’t know Samantha was going away until the nursery called me. I had to rush and pick him up.’
‘I wanted to say goodbye to you,’ she says.
‘I know,’ I reply, although I didn’t really know that, but what else can I say? I’ve apologised once. I can’t keep doing it. I want to tell her I’ve missed her. Instead we stand in relative silence, with the sound of the kettle mixing with the TV.
‘Where’s Samantha?’ she asks.
I look past her to check Teddy’s all right. He’s lying down on his mat, his thumb in his mouth. If I’m not mistaken, I think his eyes might be closing. I’ll leave him a bit longer.
‘Some kind of work event. Team-building weekend, I think.’
‘And you didn’t know she was going?’ Abbie asks. She thinks I set out to hurt her on purpose. I would never do that to her.
‘I really didn’t. We had an almighty row, if that makes you feel any better.’
‘Why would that make me feel better?’ she asks.
I don’t know. I don’t know why I said that now. I don’t answer. I also don’t think either of us really knows what to say. Abbie looks embarrassed that she’s here, in the middle of the night.
‘How did you get here?’ I ask. I assume she still doesn’t get the Tube.
‘Taxi.’
‘Is he waiting outside?’ I ask.
‘Who, Sean?’
Fuck Sean. ‘No, the driver.’
‘Oh … no. I let him go.’
‘What if I hadn’t been in?’
‘Then I’d have known you were lying about being left home alone with Teddy and that would have been the end of us.’
The end of us. ‘Fair point. What if Samantha had answered the door?’
‘See above comment,’ she says.
I can’t help but laugh, and the kettle clicks off. I pour us both a mug of tea. Teddy’s asleep on the mat. ‘Finally.’ I go towards the remote, turn the volume down so gently that Teddy won’t wake up, startled. There are no other lights on in here, so in order not to plunge us into darkness I leave the TV on, and the swirling images blur the room.
I regret turning the volume down now. The silence is all-encompassing.
‘When do you leave?’ I ask.
Abbie moves over to collect her tea and stands against the sleek silver American double fridge that Samantha insisted we buy, and which I could only afford on interest-free credit.
‘We fly on Sunday.’
‘ThisSunday – as in the day after tomorrow?’
