Page 107 of An Unholy Affair
‘And don’t forget the chipped lead paint.’
She nodded. ‘When your father and I were growing up, we didn’t even have that. Your dad’s mum used to send him out the door after breakfast with a sandwich and tell him not to come back until suppertime.’
Jack thought back to the photos he’d found in the loft—of his father and his friend. From their late teens to early twenties, every photo was taken outside. They were climbing trees, jumping into the river Foxbrooke, fishing, camping, hiking. He’d brought some of the pictures with him, meaning to ask his mum more about them.
‘Dad’s friend, the one in all the photos with him. You said he was dead?’
‘Yes. Will was your dad’s best friend all the way through school. They were closer than brothers.’
‘How did he die?’
She sighed. ‘He fell whilst rock climbing out at Cheddar Gorge.’
‘Did you know Dad then?’
‘No, not really. Our parents introduced us properly at the cricket club a year after Will died. His death hit your father very hard. He wasn’t the same afterwards.’
‘In what way?’
Patricia shrugged, as if trying to dislodge an itch. ‘When Will was alive, I remember your father being, I don’t know, happier? Whenever I saw them both at school, they were always smiling.’
Jack thought about his parent’s wedding photos. His mother looked excited, but his father looked like he’d learned to smile from a manual.
Betsy ran towards them and his mother held out her arms. Betsy ignored her, grabbing Jack’s hand from inside his pocket. ‘Dack! Swing!’
He knelt down. ‘Do you know who is best at pushing little girls on swings?’
She shook her head.
‘Nana,’ he whispered in her ear.
When they got backto the house, Steph was on a call in the living room and his mother took Betsy to her room for a nap. Jack went to check on his sister. She was in bed, propped up with pillows, Alfie lying asleep beside her.
‘Do you need anything?’ he asked.
‘A new vagina?’ Emily snorted with laughter as Jack winced. ‘Joking! Well, kind of. Come sit down and talk to me.’ She gestured to the glass of water and a packet of biscuits on her bedside table. ‘I’m self-sufficient for a few hours.’
Jack sat gingerly on the end of the bed, trying not to disturb his new nephew.
‘Seriously, don’t worry,’ his sister said. ‘He’s a day old. He’ll sleep through pretty much anything. Do you want to hold him?’
He shook his head. Babies were way too fragile. ‘He’s so small.’
‘He’s not that bloody small. You try pushing that out of your backside.’
His sister cackled at his grimace. ‘Your face. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.’
Jack rolled his eyes. ‘You sure I can’t get you anything?’
‘Nah, I’m all good, just tired… And surprised. I didn’t think Mum would come up.’
‘She’s taken rather a shine to Betsy.’
‘So it would appear. She sent her a ton of art stuff in the post.’
‘Really?’
‘Yep, I don’t think she saw the irony.’
