“I don’t want to talk,” she said, but she shrugged the coat on.
“Look, I—” He’d started to say he knew how she felt, but realized that he didn’t, not really. How could he, when it hadn’t been his parents fighting in front of everyone in the pub?
For the first time, he realized how people must feel when they tried to speak to him about his mother. Their awkward declarations of understanding had made him furious—they couldn’t know what it was like, how he felt. But now he saw that it didn’t matter that they didn’t—couldn’t—understand. They genuinely wanted to help and were going about it the best they could.
He also suspected, from his own experience, that even though Lally said she didn’t want to talk, she didn’t really want to be left alone, either. She had moved on a few steps, to the end of the concrete edging, and stood dangerously close to the lip of the canal.
Beyond her, an arched stone bridge crossed the water, giving access to the towpath on the opposite side.
Kit glanced back at the pub. If he went in to say he was taking Lally for a walk, she might disappear. They would just have to trust
that he was looking after her. “Come on,” he said, and started back up the bank towards the play yard and the road. “Let’s have a look at the boats on the other side.” He didn’t look back, didn’t give her a chance to refuse, and after a moment he heard the squelch of her footsteps on the mist-soaked grass. When he reached the road, he slowed a bit and let her draw level, but he still didn’t look at her or speak.
At the apex of the bridge, they stopped in silent accord and gazed downstream. On the left- hand side of the canal, a dozen boats were moored end to end along the towpath, like brightly painted railway cars shuffled into a watery siding.
On the right, a cluster of houses backed onto private mooring spaces, and beyond them, a grove of evergreens stood, ghostly sentinel, in the mist. Their trunks were bare and evenly spaced, their tops round and full, so that they looked like Toby’s drawings of trees.
“I used to like it when we came here.” Lally’s voice was soft, disembodied. “Sam and I played on the swings, and in the summer you could see inside the boats at night. I’d watch the families and imagine that their lives were perfect.”
Kit knew that game. When he was small, he’d peered in neighbors’ windows, wondering what it was like to have brothers and sisters. Then, after Ian had left them, he’d watched families with fathers and wondered why some dads stayed and others didn’t. Now, if he glanced into an uncurtained window at dusk, he’d fancy he saw his mother, just for an instant.
He shoved his cold hands a little farther into his jacket pockets.
“No one’s life is perfect.”
Lally turned on him with sudden, blazing fury. “Well, mine sucks. How could my parents be so stupid? And my dad—you don’t know what he’s like. He’ll—”
“Sneaking away to bare your soul, Lal?” The voice was smooth and mocking, and Kit recognized it even as his body jerked from the surprise.
“Leo! You bastard!” Lally whirled round, striking at the boy’s chest with her fists, but Leo caught both her wrists in one hand and spun her back like a marionette.
“Shhh,” he said. “You don’t want to call attention to yourself. I should think there’s been quite enough of that in your family for one day.” That made Lally struggle harder, but when she saw Kit step forward to intervene, she went limp and Leo let her go.
“Where are you going?” Leo asked, as casually as if he’d run across them in the street rather than creeping up behind them and trying to frighten them half to death.
“For a walk. To see the boats,” Kit answered, trying to make it clear they didn’t need company. He started down the far side of the bridge, and Lally followed.
“I’ll come with you, then.” Leo fell in beside Lally. “My dad’s taken Lally’s dad to get royally pissed at a more ‘accommodating’
pub, so I’m all yours for the duration.”
“Your dad just left you?” Kit asked, curiosity overcoming his dislike.
“I’m not a baby, like some,” Leo snapped, then smiled. “I said I’d walk home. It’s not far. You can come with me, and we’ll have a look at where Juliet found this famous mummy.” He took a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his peacoat and tapped out two, handing one to Lally without asking if she wanted it. She stopped, touching his hand as she held the end of the fag to the flame, and the casual intimacy of the gesture made Kit feel suddenly queasy.
“You can’t go in a crime scene,” he said as they merged into single file, now following Leo down the towpath. “Everyone knows that.”
“And who’s going to see?” Leo shot back. “The police have finished picking up things, and there’s only a stupid tape. How is a tape supposed to keep anyone out?”
“You could destroy evidence.”
“Ooh, listen to you, Mister Policeman. Taking after your daddy,
are you? Anyway, what difference does it make? The thing’s probably been there for ages. Just think, Lally —”
“Shut up, Leo.” Lally stopped so suddenly that Kit bumped into her. “That’s horrid. I’m not going any farther if you don’t shut up.”
The mist had beaded on her dark hair, and now a drop formed on the end of her nose. She wiped her face with the back of her sleeve without taking her eyes off Leo.
“Okay, okay.” Leo held up his hands, then took a drag off the cigarette. “Forget it. I’ve found a new place, anyway.”
He and Lally looked at each other for a moment in silent communication, then Lally pushed past Leo and trudged on, her head ducked in misery. Kit was about to reach for her, to insist that they go back, when a boat materialized out of the fog a few yards down the path.
He knew it instantly.
Even with her sapphire paintwork dulled by moisture, the sleek lines of the
Kit’s first instinct was to call out. He could show Lally the boat; they could get warm; maybe Annie would even offer them something hot to drink. Then he realized two things simultaneously.
The first was that he didn’t want to share anything that was special to him with Leo, and he didn’t see how he could make Leo leave them alone. The second was that he’d expected to find the
So humiliated was he by the idea that she hadn’t intended to keep their appointment that he stopped dead, wishing himself a planet away. The others halted as well, turning startled faces towards him.
Perhaps if no one spoke—if they turned back now—
It was too late. The boat’s stern door swung open and Annie
Lebow stepped out, a cloth firewood carrier in her hand, and reached for the firewood stacked neatly on the roof of the boat. She paused when she saw the three of them just standing there on the path, then smiled a little hesitantly. Her eyes were a clear green against the gray sky and the gray fleece she wore, and her short blond hair stood on end, as if she’d absently run her fingers through it. “Hullo,” she said. “It’s Kit, isn’t it?” she added as she transferred a few pieces of wood into the carrier.
“You’ve moved your boat,” Kit blurted out, then inwardly cursed himself for a complete idiot. Now she’d think he’d been searching for her, like some kind of stalker.
“Oh . . . yes.” She sounded bemused, as if it hadn’t occurred to her. “It was a twenty- four- hour mooring, and all the spots at Barbridge were taken. I should have thought to say so yesterday. I’m sorry if you looked and couldn’t find me.”
“No.” Kit saw the possibility of redemption. “No, we had . . . family things.” Belatedly, he added, “This is my cousin Lally. And Leo.
We were just walking, and saw the boat.”
