Page 161 of Every Silent Lie
“Oh?” he says more slowly.
“It’s an employee I fired.”
“What?” His face transforms instantly from soft and curious to shocked and hard. “Are you fucking joking?”
I shake my head. “The more I think about it, I’m not surprised. He’s been physical with his wife, a woman he’s apparently loved, so it should be no shock he would get physical with a woman he despises. I’m just telling you this now so we can move on.”
“Move on?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Move on.” I detect a wave of madness in his eyes that I’m quite sure I don’t like.
“It’s done.” I kiss his cheek. “Now tell me about the balls you busted today, because it wasn’t Thomas’s.”
“Ha ha,” he drones. “Just some failing tech company.” Light thudding interrupts us, and we both look at the window seeing Albi banging impatiently with his fist. “Ready to go ice skating?” Dec asks.
I look down my front, to my entirely inappropriate attire for the weather, let alone ice skating. “No.”
“We’ll detour via your place.”
* * *
Albi’s like a jack-in-the-box all the way to my place, so much so, I’m sure he’ll knacker himself out and be asleep by the time we get to Hyde Park. “I’ll be quick,” I say, hopping out and crunching my way up the path to the door. I let myself in and dump my coat on the couch as I pass, unzipping my dress as I go. Five minutes later, I’m wrapped up tight in some jeans and a cosy roll-neck, and on my way back out.
I swing the door open and find Dec and Albi on the other side. “He needs to pee,” Dec says, as Albi cups himself with two palms, shuffling on the spot, his little face bunched as he strains to hold it in. “Go, go, go,” I say, moving aside to let them past.
“Quick.” Dec steers Albi by his shoulders through to my bedroom, and the clatters of the loo seat being flung up ring out loud. “Jesus, fella,” Dec says over a laugh. “Get your aim right.”
I smile as I pull my hat on.
“We need to wipe the seat,” Dec goes on.
“Why?”
“Because you’ve sprayed all over it.”
“I don’t wipe the seat at home, Daddy.”
“I know, the magic fairies do it at home.”
“Do they?”
“Yeah, they’re called Daddy and Lynette.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Wash your hands.” The flush sounds, followed by the tap, and they appear a few moments later, Dec looking relieved, Albi no longer clenching his groin area. They look so much alike, except Albi’s eyes are on the greener side of grey. “Ready?” Dec asks.
“Ready.”
“Who’s that?” Albi veers off course to the cabinet under the window and picks up the framed photo of Noah, and my mind quickly empties as he studies the picture. I can feel Dec’s worried eyes on me. He’s probably blank too.
“Um,” I swallow repeatedly trying to moisten my dry mouth, words chasing in circles in my head, but none of them coming together to form a sentence that’ll make sense to a four-year-old. “That’s my little boy.” I didn’t mean to say it. I don’t know what I meant to say.
Albi’s little eyes look at me thoughtfully, his brow creasing as he tries to process that information. “You have a little boy? Like me?”
“Oh God,” I breathe, looking at Dec for help. It hasn’t even crossed my mind that I might be in this situation, having to explain to Albi who Noah is and why he’s no longer here. I don’t know where to start, and I don’t know if I can get through it without falling apart, which I absolutely mustn’t do in front of him. “His name was Noah,” I say, feeling hot and bothered, sweating in all of these clothes. “He’s gone to heaven.”
