Page 80 of The Perfect Son
“Do you want me to come pick you up? I normally go for a swim first thing Saturday anyway, so it’ll be on the way past.”
“OK. Thanks.”
“Oh, gotta go,” she says cutting my last words off. “See you Saturday.”
“Jamie will love it,” I say to the silent phone.
Emptiness consumes me. I lay my face against Jamie’s car rug and cry for a while.
Oh, Tessie.
It’s Easter weekend. I should be spending time with Jamie and hiding eggs for an egg hunt. And I will in a minute. I just need a minute.
Remember when Jamie grew out of his first baby onesies? You cried packing them away into a bag for the loft.
It felt like I was losing a part of him. It still does every time I sort through his clothes. My fingers run over Jamie’s drawers. They need sorting. I bet half this stuff doesn’t fit him anymore, although thankfully his growth spurt seems to have tailed off.
I’m just slotting the final drawer back into place when the side door crashes open.
“Mum?” Jamie’s voice shouts through the house. His feet stomp on the kitchen floor.
“Take your shoes off,” I call back.
“Oh,” I hear him say to himself. I picture him striding backward to the side door and kicking his wellies off, leaving them strewn across the nook and in the way of the side door.
“I’m hungry. Can I have my chocolate?” he shouts. I smile and pull myself up and wipe my eyes.
“Have you seen your backpack?”
“Er...” I can sense his mind calculating an answer as if the truth might get him in trouble.
“Is it in the tree house?”
“Yeah,” he says.
We meet on the stairs. His face is sheepish but there is sadness there too.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say softly. “I just wondered. Wash your hands and we’ll play a game of Parcheesi.”
He nods and disappears into the bathroom.
I head for the nook, surprised to see Jamie’s wellies sitting on the boot rack. I jiggle the handle of the side door back and forth, checking it’s locked. I’m pleased and sad all at the same time to see that Jamie thought to lock it when he came in. He must’ve picked up on my constant checking of the doors.
I try to remember when I last saw your things. Was it after the time someone had been in the house? I don’t know.
I can almost understand Ian prying in your study, his desperation for the money, and the warped older-brother belief that he has a right to look through your will and take over as executor.
But why would he take your clothes and boots? And Jamie’s things too. It doesn’t make sense.
CHAPTER 51
Thursday, April 5
3 DAYS TO JAMIE’S BIRTHDAY
The thing is, even though I was jittery and jumping at every creak in the house, it still floored me when the man who chased me in Manningtree walked around the side of the house and into our garden.
I was pegging out the washing, my mind on the two chocolate sponges baking in the oven for Jamie’s birthday cake. I was thinking about popping to the shops, and in my head I was listing the things I needed. Party Rings, chocolate chip cookies, blackcurrant cordial, bread, milk, a helium balloon.
