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He felt her hand brush against his and the hairs on his arm stood on end. She pulled the car keys out of his hand and flipped the locking mechanism. Two beeps and a flash of the headlights told Edward that his car had just changed sides and was firmly in her camp now.
He didn’t much blame it. She was difficult to resist. Throwing a backwards glance at the treacherous machine, he stalked into the house.
Isaac’s head popped up over the back of the sofa. ‘Edward. Come and see...’
All his resistance melted. That cornered feeling, which he usually dealt with stony-faced and emotionless, didn’t matter any more. ‘Hey, buddy.’ He strode into the sitting room and plumped himself down next to the boy. ‘Have you washed your hands?’
Isaac inspected his grubby fingers. ‘No.’
‘Well, you’d better do that. Mine could do with a wash as well.’ He led Isaac into the kitchen, kicking the plastic box that he stood on to reach the counter-tops in front of the sink. He squirted a dollop of soap into Isaac’s palm and then soaped his own fingers.
‘Is Mum angry with us?’ the boy whispered conspiratorially.
‘Nah. Not with you.’
‘You?’
‘Don’t you worry about that. I’ll handle it.’ Edward didn’t bother with any details of exactly how, on the basis that he hadn’t formulated them yet.
‘Do you want to borrow my ray gun?’ Isaac twisted round to face him, splashing water onto his shirt.
‘Thanks. But I think I’ll manage.’ He bent down, keeping his voice low. ‘We don’t want to hurt her, do we?’
Isaac shook his head, taking the other end of the towel that Edward was drying his own hands with.
‘I’ll tell you what...’ There were no signs of food preparation in the kitchen. Charlotte had clearly been spending her time glued to the front window, waiting for him to bring Isaac home. ‘Do you like Chinese food?’
Isaac nodded.
‘Okay, then. I’ll go out and get some.’ Isaac shot him a questioning look. Clearly takeaways didn’t figure much in his experience. ‘I’ll bring it home and we can eat it here.’
‘You don’t need to do that. I can have something ready in half an hour.’
Charlotte’s voice sounded from the doorway. If she’d heard the bit about the ray gun she was clearly undaunted by it.
If she was so keen on him staying in, then she was going to have to put up with the consequences.
Edward reached for the takeaway menu, taped to the door of the fridge, and handed it to her. ‘There’s a nice place just around the corner. I’ll phone in our o
rder and go and pick it up. We can be eating in fifteen minutes.’
She gave a little huff and unfolded the card. The strains of another children’s tune floated in from the sitting room and Isaac dropped his end of the towel and ran in to see what was happening on the television.
‘Okay.’ Edward closed the door into the sitting room behind the boy. ‘You want to talk.’
* * *
She didn’t really. But when Edward had started to retreat back into himself, his face losing all the animation that she saw whenever he talked with Isaac, she’d panicked. It had been as if she was losing him back into the realms of considered thought and few words.
She twisted her lips together, pretending to read the menu. He came closer.
‘Afraid?’ He plucked the menu from her hands and held it behind his back.
‘Terrified.’
‘Good.’ That tantalising half-smile. ‘I won’t be needing the ray gun, then.’
‘If you want to get a takeaway you’d better do it. Otherwise it’ll be no quicker than if I cook.’
