Page 8 of The Cut
Oblivious, Nate bopped his head to the music blasting into his ears and slouched into the kitchen. ‘Dani?’
‘Nate … give me a break, will you?’ Ben tried to catch at least a glimmer of eye contact with his son, who was now charging up the cantilevered glass staircase to his room.
Nobody else was home when they got back, and the security system was enabled. Ben thumbed through the images of each room on his smartphone. He stopped at Nathan’s bedroom and watched the door as his son entered and flopped down on to the37bed. The room was a mess, clothing and trainers strewn everywhere. Nathan’s camera equipment – his tripod, cables and ring lights – was scattered around the room.
‘NATE! TIDY YOUR ROOM BEFORE DANI GETS BACK. IT’S A TIP.’
Ben tapped his phone and pulled up the feed from the various cameras positioned around his house. He scrolled through the kitchen, den, master bedroom, basement, Lily’s room and then back to Nate’s. He stood at the door to his office, the one place where there was no camera, watching his son. Nathan stared up into the lens with a sarcastic smile, before climbing on to the bed and slinging a pair of dirty underpants over the camera. The screen turned black.
Dani had scoffed at Ben’s obsession with security – ‘It’s like bloody Fort Knox in this house’ – but he loved the power of technology. He could charge his car remotely and turn on the central heating and lights if no one was home. Sensors in the garden flickered on and off, triggered by every passing fox. The Google Nest cameras did what they said on the tin: his nest was secure.
The Lagavulin hit his throat and burned as he swallowed. The second quaff emptied the glass and was mellower, as the warmth of the whisky got to work. He began to soften as he poured another and sank into the Eames chair in the corner of his office, fingering the track pad to open his computer. He began to check his unread emails, opening the first of a long chain between Gazprombank and Kotak Mahindra. Subject: ‘???????/URGENT’. His bowels moved.
A WhatsApp message dropped into the top corner of his phone.
On the way. Got Thai. LOL. 20 mins.38
Dani. How on earth was he going to tell her that they were about to lose everything? He glanced at the pile of books stacked on the corner of his desk. There was a biography of one of his mentors, Bjarke Ingels. Sitting on top was an unread paperback,FindingMeaningintheSecondHalfofLifeby James Hollis. It had been a joke present for his fortieth that Dani had found hilarious. The spine was unbroken, the pages untouched, but the title alone had planted seeds in Ben’s mind. He poured another measure of whisky.
He would have to sell up and even then it wouldn’t be enough to cover his legal bills. He was going to prison. If he could just buy himself a little more time. He closed his eyes for a second and drifted.
A shriek of laughter from the kitchen roused him. He ran his hands through his hair, scratching his scalp, trying to claw the anxiety from his mind. He took a deep breath, closed his computer and went to join the others.
‘Hey, Dad! We won … two nil! I scored both goals. Wish you could have been there.’ Lily’s sing-song, dismissive tone punched a fist of guilt into Ben’s stomach. She pecked him on the cheek and grabbed one of the plates Dani had just got out of the cupboard.
‘Proud of you, Lils.’ Ben eyed Dani, who was standing at the huge kitchen island, spooning rice noodles into a bowl. She inclined her head with a sad smile on her glowing face.
Lily threw a parting shot over her shoulder. ‘Be there next time and I’ll hat-trick the f—’
‘Hey, language.’
‘All right, keep ya hair on … what’s left of it.’ She giggled, stuffing a spring roll into her mouth, walked into the den and slumped in front of the TV. Dani remained silent and perched on a bar stool.39
She smiled as Ben chewed on his lip and gazed at the food. His stomach turned; he had no appetite.
‘She really wanted you at the footie, Ben.’
‘I know … it was just bad timing.’ He snapped open a pair of wooden chopsticks and fumbled them into the hot noodles, trying to slurp them up into his mouth. Dani smiled as she slid a fork across the counter towards him. She went to the fridge and pulled out a half-finished bottle of Riesling.
‘Want one?’ Her hand hovered over the two wine glasses.
‘What do you think?’ Ben persevered with the chopsticks.
‘That bad?’
‘Yep, the banks are calling in loans left, right and centre, and we just don’t have the funds. I don’t know what to do …’ His tired eyes met hers, but they were glazed over. He knew she didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear about losing the house, tightening the purse strings, forgoing the luxuries that had become necessities. Dani’s selective deafness sometimes appealed to him, but right now he needed her. ‘Anyway. How was your day, angel?’ His socked foot found hers on the bar stool.
‘Yeah, great … Busy.’ Dani’s ‘busy’ was most people’s bank holiday. She knew that and always had her ‘how was your day’ answer ready. ‘Did Pilates, sorted out the MOT on the car, met Maggie at the football …’ Her voice faded into the distance. Now it was Ben’s turn to tune out. His shoulders seemed to droop, and his eyes drifted to the window. ‘What you thinking about?’ Dani twisted noodles on to her fork like spaghetti.
‘Hmm?’ Ben was elsewhere. Dani followed his gaze; he was staring out into the garden.
‘I know, I know, I need to call the gardener as well. I’ll do it tomorrow.’ She finished her wine and topped up her glass.40
‘What did Margaret have to say for herself? I know you two like to put the world to rights.’
Dani paused and took a deep breath. ‘She went to the Crown Court earlier – didn’t tell me they were going. Did you hear … he got parole?’ She took another deep swig of wine, steeling herself for what was about to come. Ben sat frozen for a second. A noodle slipped from his chopsticks, slithering back into the bowl. ‘Ben … love?’ She reached out a hand towards him, which he took. ‘We are going to have to talk about this.’
Ben’s eyes finally found hers. They were red rimmed and haunted.
