Morton was moments away from home when ithit him – if Soraya had only collected Finlay at seven o’clock then he had beenwith Peter when he’d made the phone call at six twenty, practically beggingMorton to see him. What if Finlay had seen what was in the copper box?
He slammed onthe brakes, being half-tempted to mimic Juliette’s impressive handbrake turnbut he just knew that it would all go wrong and he’d end up upside down in thehedge, so he settled for the more acceptable three-point turn and sped back theway he’d come.
He banged his fist on Soraya’s frontdoor. Four hard thumps later he realised that Finlay was asleep, but bythen it was too late. The damage was done. Soraya opened the doorwith a deep-set frown, about to lay into the idiot hammering on her door lateon a Friday night, when she realised who it was.
‘That wasquick.’
‘Sorry for theracket. I just got all the way home and realised that Finlay would havebeen with Peter when he phoned me Tuesday night and I think he might know whatPeter wanted to show me. I know it’s not ideal but can you wake him up soI can talk to him?’ Soraya looked uncomfortable and Morton knew he’d madea mistake in coming back.
‘I don’t thinkso, Morton, not tonight. He’s not sleeping for long as it is. Thepoor kid’s devastated. The last thing he needs is an interrogation. I’ll speak to him in the morning and see what I can glean. Sorry.’
‘Fairenough. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.’
‘That’s okay,’Soraya said, about to close the front door when a small face appeared at herside.
‘Who’s that,Mum?’ Finlay said shyly, folding an arm around Soraya’s waist. He was asmall, thin boy with dark hair, dark eyes and a neat pillow-scar that ran downhis left cheek. Yet there was more to him than that: those mournful eyesthat told of a dark past belonged to Peter Coldrick. Morton was sure thathe could have identified those sombre eyes in a line-up of thousands.
‘This isMorton, he’s a nice man who’s come to help us. Say hello.’
‘Hello,’ Finlaymumbled, his face meshed into Soraya’s jumper.
‘Come on, why don’tI make you a hot chocolate and you can have a quick chat with him.’ Finlay didn’t seem convinced in spite of Morton’s inane smile.
The three ofthem went into the lounge and Morton returned to the chair he had previouslyoccupied that evening, while Finlay and Soraya took the large white leathersofa. Finlay snuggled up to his mum.
‘Fin, there’ssomething that Morton needs to know from you, if you can possiblyremember. When you were at Daddy’s house on Tuesday,’ Soraya began,knowing full well that she was heading blindly into a minefield, ‘did you seehim open a box kind of thing?’ Morton wanted the ground to open up and swallowhim whole; it was horrific. The poor kid’s bottom lip began to quiver, hetightened his grip around Soraya’s arm as tears began to flood down his faceand he lost control and began to wail. Morton could only meet the child’sdespairing look, those dark eyes punishing Morton. Soraya pulled him incloser, telling him it was alright. She shook her head at Morton – it wasmore of a ‘this isn’t happening tonight’ look she gave rather than ‘thanksvery much.’
‘Come on, let’sget you back to bed,’ Soraya said soothingly. He nodded and the wailingbecame more subdued as she led him by the hand out of the room.
Morton felt nauseous. Now what was he supposed to do? Just walk out of the frontdoor, or wait? She could be hours settling him back off tosleep. He shouldn’t have come back. What was he thinking? He should never have children, that much was certain. He slipped quietlyout of the house, vowing never to reproduce.
Outside, thecar was dead. Completely dead. Rigor mortis had even set in sincenothing happened at all when he turned the key. What a marvellous end toa marvellous evening. If he’d just kept on driving home things would havebeen a lot happier for everyone. It really was time to scrap the damnedcar. Then he remembered the money. The money! It wouldbe cleared any day now and he could walk into any car dealership and just plucka car from the forecourt – no need for finance options or drawn-out bank loans,just grab the keys and drive away with the wind in his hair.
He turned thekey again, but it might as well have been for a different car for all the goodit did inside the ignition. There was no point in him lifting up thebonnet, it was like a different planet under there and he was very unmanly whenit came to cars. He just had no interest in them apart from whether ornot they drove. And this car didn’t, so he’d lost all interest. Hammering on Soraya’s door for a second time that evening wasn’t anoption. He had no choice but to phone Juliette and ask her to collecthim, which she reluctantly said she would do (‘Even though I’m in the middle ofwatching EastEnders’).
Juliette’s trusty Polo swooped in, herheadlights momentarily dazzling him through the windscreen. He was readyto get into her car and head home but then she instructed him to ‘open herup’. She’d only brought jump leads and a hi-vis jacket, for God’ssake. In fact, she probably already had them stashed in her bootalong with the red triangle, a more comprehensive first-aid kit than is carriedby most paramedics, tools, spare wheel and all manner of other emergencyequipment. She really must have been a scout leader in a previousexistence, Morton thought.
Morton openedthe bonnet and watched silently from the pavement as Juliette, torch wedgedfirmly in her mouth, carefully hooked a bundle of wires between the twovehicles like an heroic doctor performing an emergency transfusion.
‘I’m going toget a new car tomorrow, I can’t put up with this pile of junk anymore,’ Mortonmoaned from the confines of the pavement. He secretly hoped that shewouldn’t be able to fix it. Not just because he felt ratheremasculated but because she would more likely agree that he needed a new car ifeven she couldn’t get it to start. But he
