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He picks up the toy, leaves the site, locks the door behind him. One hand on the kitchen door handle, he pushes his forehead against the glass and lets out a long, ragged breath.
‘Pockets.’
Startled, he turns. Jasmine, her face alight with that smile of hers, her mischievous way. He has such a soft spot for her, the way she repeats everything he says, the fact that he has to do so little to make her laugh. It is all he can do to compose himself. His heart batters against his ribs. It feels like it’s about to come right out of his chest.
‘Hello, Jasmine,’ he manages.
‘Hello, Jasmine, hello, Jasmine.’ She shifts from foot to foot, waving her hands at him and smiling.
Beyond her, he can hear Jennifer out on the drive, bustling little Cosima into her car seat.
‘Pockets!’ Jasmine is pointing at the toy.
‘This is Mr Sloth,’ he replies helplessly, tears running down his face now. ‘Say hello to Mr Sloth.’
‘Say hello to Mr Sloth, say hello to Mr Sloth, say hello to Mr Sloth.’
He knows the word for this; Jennifer told him last week: echolalia.
‘Mr Sloth. Mr Sloth. Pockets.’ Jasmine throws back her head and laughs.
‘Jasmine?’ Jennifer calls from the driveway.
Neil pushes his finger to his lips. ‘Shh,’ he says. ‘I can’t do Mr Sloth pockets today, darling, I’m sorry.’ He waves. ‘I’ll do Mr Sloth pockets another day.’ He slides into the utility room, closes himself inside, silently. Ear pressed to the door, he listens.
‘Mr Sloth pockets another day,’ Jasmine is almost singing, repeating, her voice coming closer, closer now.
He grabs the door handle just in time. Feels it shudder in his hand as she tries to open the door from the other side.
‘Mr Sloth pockets another day,’ she says, shaking the door handle. ‘Pockets, pockets, pockets.’
A line of sweat runs from his forehead.
‘Pockets isn’t here yet, darling.’ Jennifer’s voice is near. She’s come back into the house. She’s right on the other side of the door. He clamps his mouth shut, closes his eyes.
‘Pockets, pockets,’ Jasmine says. The door handle trembles, loosens against the palm of his hand.
‘We’ll see him later, darling.’ Jennifer sounds like she’s back at the front door, coaxing her daughter outside. ‘Come on, darling – let’s get in the car now. Daddy’s waiting.’
‘Pockets.’ Jasmine too is quieter. She’s heading out of the house.
The front door slams shut. A long breath leaves him. He thinks he hears Jasmine half singing his nickname over and over again before the car door closes with a thunk. Another few seconds and the deep roar of serious horsepower fades to nothing.
He gasps, sobs against the door. What has he done what has he done what has he done?
Professional negligence, manslaughter, his lifelong friendship over, his wife a stranger, his business ruined, his reputation in tatters, his place in the town he’s lived in all his life gone forever. His castle. Everything he’s built, he will lose.
He will lose Bella.
He will lose Matt, his mates, his mum, his sister, his niece and nephew.
He will lose everything.
All he can do now is take control.
All he can do now is fix it.
All he can do now is… is what?
