“He tried to climb the gate. We were right behind him. He must have slipped. It’s actually only a little cut.”
“There was blood everywhere,” Edwin said.
Dominic kissed the top of his head and set him down. He forced a smile as he stroked Edwin’s cheek. “What sort of lollipop did you get?”
“A round one, you know. A red one.”
“Strawberry?”
Edwin shrugged.
“Well, don’t climb the gate again, Edwin. It’s not a good idea. Come on, let’s get you back into bed. I’ll read you a story tonight.”
Dominic squeezed Ruth’s arm briefly as he passed her on the stairs, and she closed her eyes. I retreated to the annex and went straight to bed, listening to the rain on the window for hours, failing to sink into sleep.
Edwin and I ate breakfast together the next morning, before slipping outside to potter around by the climbing frame. I rubbed my arms while he practiced shooting down the slide headfirst. The grass underfoot was slippery, and a faint hint of bonfire smoke mingled with the earthy scent from the damp borders.
Dominic joined us, his slippers stained dark with dew, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. He stood next to me, and we watched Edwin in silence for a while.
“I’m sorry if Ruth upset you yesterday,” he said eventually.
I shook my head. “No, not at all. I understand.”
“She’s feeling particularly fragile at the moment.”
“She didn’t upset me. I feel terrible about frightening her like that. It must be very hard after—after what happened with your other son.”
A spasm distorted his face for a moment, and I looked away. He blew out a loud puff of air.
“It’s not just that. She’s been hoping—we’ve been hoping—for some happier news recently. A new brother or sister for Edwin. But sadly—” He cleared his throat.
“Daddy, help me on the monkey bars!” Edwin called.
Dominic handed me his coffee mug, and leaped to Edwin’s aid. Any anticipation of comfort evaporated as I discovered the liquid inside was stone-cold.
Vera joined us at Summerbourne the following day; Dominic was preparing a joint of pork and making applesauce, and Ruth felt too unwell to collect her from the station, so she arrived in a taxi.
“Perhaps we should arrange some driving lessons for you, Laura, while you’re here,” Vera said, checking her hair in the hall mirror. In the sitting room doorway, Ruth rolled her eyes. I smoothed down a spike of hair on Edwin’s head, wary of replying.
“Perhaps we should arrange some driving lessons for you, Mother,” Ruth said.
Vera waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m too old for such things.”
“You’re not even fifty! But don’t worry about it. Everyone loves driving you places, don’t they? It’s a real treat for us.”
Vera ignored her. “Now, Edwin, what have you been painting this week? You must show me everything.”
If anything, Edwin’s injury looked more dramatic than it had on the first day, with a thick scab bulging from the contour of his ear. Vera didn’t mention it in front of him though, and I guessed that either Ruth or Dominic had told her about it over the phone. Once Edwin had shown off his latest pictures and models, he settled at the day nursery table to paint a new scene. Vera beckoned me to the other end of the room.
“How are you getting on?” she asked. “With the job—with everything?”
“Oh, fine,” I said. “Great. Thank you.”
She gave me an appraising look. “Are they working you too hard? You shouldn’t be working today at all. Twenty-two hours a week, isn’t it?”
I spread my hands, indicating the day nursery and the little boy who sat dipping his brush into paint with his tongue poking out.
“Honestly, it doesn’t feel like work. I’m happy being with Edwin when I’m off duty, and it hardly feels like work when I’m on duty.”
