Dying to Deceive by Judith Cutler

Author:Judith Cutler [Judith Cutler]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2019-11-21T00:00:00+00:00

FIFTEEN

The rest of Friday was quiet, both on the pitch and off. It gave me plenty of time to think, and to resolve to speak more forcefully to Mike than I ever had in all our time together. He didn’t get home till quite late, unfortunately: the team had had a new baby’s head to wet, and at this early stage in the season a little male bonding was in order.

But he was far from festive when he got home, rather later than he’d told me to expect him. Although he was usually very rigorous about alcohol and driving, tonight I suspected he might have drunk rather more than he should. He sank morosely on to the sofa, put his head in his hands and inspected the new carpet.

‘Food’s ready when you are,’ I stood in front of him, extending a friendly hand to heave him to his feet.

Not so much as a glance. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry – I didn’t expect you to wait for me.’

‘Have you eaten, then?’ Bother, I should have thought of that. He had the most beautiful neck, so vulnerable where the hair crept to a delicate standstill.

‘Only nibbles. Blotting paper.’ He still didn’t move.

‘You’ve got room for something then?’

He took my hand, but not to pull himself up. I reached with the other hand and eased him against me, stroking his hair until I felt him relax. Neither of us was in any hurry for anything more.

‘The baby,’ he said at last. ‘Their baby. Jason. It’s got some heart problem. It’s got to have operation upon operation and then it may not see adulthood. And Sean’s only twenty-two. How the hell’s he going to cope with all that?’

‘And Cilla. Oh, the poor kids.’ I sat beside him and we clung to each other, as if by comforting ourselves we were somehow helping the parents.

At last he sat upright. ‘It puts our little problems into perspective, doesn’t it?’

But not for long.

‘The truth is, I’m tired of waiting for things to happen,’ I admitted over the stir-fry I was picking at. ‘I want to get in there and poke with a big stick.’

I had to break the silence somehow. Not a man in general for moods, Mike had never withdrawn into a morose silence like this before. I suppose being sombre was hardly surprising, given all the circumstances, but I was still worried for him. He too was pushing his food around his plate. His beer was untouched, though he looked at the glass from time to time as if he could sink the lot in one go – and another, and another, and another.

I feigned a calm I didn’t feel, though I was afraid that riled him even more.

‘Absolutely. Me too. Except I wouldn’t use the big stick to poke with. I’d want to kill.’ He blurted the words out as if ashamed of them.

‘Kill? Love, this isn’t like you.’ No response. ‘Come on: eat your blotting paper.’

Mike blinked, and speared a baby aubergine. He smiled for the first time that evening, and tried a piece of chicken.

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