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“Do you think I don’t know how to lock my own house?”
I bit my lip.
I had an idea, but I didn’t want to say it out loud in case I was wrong.
“Should I call the police?” Sam asked, running a hand through his hair.
“Give me a minute,” I said, and ran round the house.
I went down to the play area, where the jungle gym had been built. The structure had a swing and some monkey bars, a climbing area and a little house in which Ethan and I liked to play. I often called it our house. Sometimes I’d bring blankets and cookies and tea in a flask. I went up the ladder and peered inside. There were our blankets and some toys and then I saw Ethan’s jacket. I crawled into the space and found Ethan, fast asleep. I picked him up and he opened his eyes sleepily.
“Ethan! Your daddy’s been looking for you everywhere!”
“Nattie’s back,” he said with a smile and fell asleep again.
Sam’s face appeared in the opening of the house, “He’s there?”
I nodded. He held out his arms and I passed Ethan to him. Sam carried him back into the house and into bed. I waited for him downstairs. Eventually, he came down.
“How did he get out?”
“There is a window in the laundry room, if he gets onto the washing machine, he’s just about tall enough to reach it. The window opens onto the wall of the side garden.”
“How did you know he’d gotten out this way?”
“I didn’t,” I said. “I once saw him getting on the washing machine while I was down there folding laundry. He was fiddling with the window, looking out onto the garden. I told him to get down, but something told me he might have gotten out that way.”
“You were right,” Sam said. He looked haggard.
“Maybe… maybe I overreacted yesterday.”
Sam was looking overwrought, completely tense. But I felt myself holding back.
“No,” I said in a firm voice. “You’re right. I think I need a break. I think we need a break.”
Without saying anything else, I got up and walked out.
