Chapter Three
9 p.m. Mathew sat at the dining table. He was much happier now he’d showered and changed into a tee-shirt and shorts. A ceiling fan whirred, swishing warm air around. It felt good on the top of his head, cooling his thoughts and helping him to forget about Jim Bentley.
His mother, Sonia, walked in and put a glass bowl of salad in the middle of the table. ‘How was your walk, love?’
‘Okay.’
‘You were gone a long time.’
Mathew crossed his fingers behind his back. ‘I felt sick.’ (The truth.) ‘So I went down the river for a while.’ (A lie.) ‘It’s nice and cool in the evening.’ He didn’t dare tell her he’d gone along the Bunky Line to the derelict farmhouse just to make sure Jim Bentley hadn’t taken the little girl there to murder her. He also neglected to explain that he’d had another one of his emotional blackouts and couldn’t account for most of the time he’d been gone.
‘It would be a lot cooler if you didn’t go everywhere in that daft coat.’
He dreaded to think what she might say if she ever found out he wore a stab vest beneath it when he went out. ‘It’s not daft. It’s just a coat. Mrs Halliday’s dog is daft when it chases its tail and scrapes its bum along the grass.’
‘Thank you, Mathew, you’ve just put me off my tea talking about the dog like that.’
‘But he does scrape it on the grass. And he licks himself.’
‘Yuck!’
‘I suppose he can’t help it, because he hasn’t got hands to scratch with.’
‘I don’t like dogs.’
‘I don’t like Mrs Halliday. She’s always in a grumpy mood. And she shouts at the children when they get near Fester.’
Sonia went back to the kitchen and returned a few seconds later. She put a plate in front of Mathew with three slices of ham, a chicken leg, and half a dozen sweet potatoes. ‘Fester?’
‘Her dog.’
‘Maybe she doesn’t want anyone fussing around him in case he bites.’
‘Then he should have a muzzle on.’
‘True. Do you want to watch something on TV later?’
‘I’m gonna talk to Tortilla and then get an early night.’
‘I swear to God you think more of that tortoise than you do of me.’
Mathew’s heart stuttered. ‘That’s not true. I love you more than anyone.’
‘Just kidding. What do you think of the new cappuccino machine in the bookshop?’
Mathew helped himself to salad. ‘I love it. The Book Café’s my favourite place in the whole world.’
Sonia smiled. ‘Mine, too.’
Mathew had worked at his mother’s bookshop since leaving school. It wasn’t like having a real job; more like getting paid to do the best thing ever. He loved helping the customers. Relished that wonderful aroma of a brand-new book while he studied the front cover for clues to the story within. Imagined himself as the hero of the story, marrying the pretty woman he’d rescued from a burning building and living happily ever after in a country cottage with roses wrapped around the front porch.
He ate in silence, mulling over the events of the day. Or, more precisely, the events during his trip to the shop. Every time he told himself he was just being silly, a pessimistic voice popped up in his head reminding him that terrible things happened to people all the time.
His mother banged and clanked in the kitchen. She was an amazing lady. Nothing was ever too much trouble for her, and she let nothing get her down in the grumps. Apart from Cory Wainwright’s dog when it was barking in the yard at night.
Mathew took his plate and the salad bowl into the kitchen and put them on the worktop near the drainer. ‘Do you want me to dry?’
‘Thanks.’
Mathew concentrated hard as he dried the dishes. Partly because he didn’t want to break anything, but also because it helped to take his mind off the little girl. As he put the salad bowl back in the cupboard above the fridge, he suddenly blurted, ‘Someone’s going to die.’
Sonia frowned. ‘Pardon me?’
He cursed his careless mouth and busied himself putting away the dishes.
‘Mathew?’
‘What?’
‘Did you say someone is going to die?’
His cheeks flushed. He nodded and stared at the marble worktop.
‘Why would you say something like that?’
‘The bird told me.’
‘What bird?’
‘The one on the back of the chair when I came in from feeding Tortilla this morning.’
‘What exactly did it say?’
‘Nothing.’
Sonia shook her head. ‘Now you’re confusing me.’
‘I read in a book once that if you see a bird in the house, it means someone is going to die.’
‘That’s just a silly superstition. Like the one about rabbits being witches in disguise. I mean, has anyone ever seen a rabbit with a cauldron?’
Mathew grinned. ‘No.’
‘Do you remember Sunny?’
He searched the database in his head. He was hopeless with names. And dates. And times. ‘Who?’
‘Sunny. The lop-eared rabbit we had when you were ten. You used to spend hours playing with him in the garden.’
‘Oh.’
‘We buried him near the back gate when he died.’
‘How did he die?’
‘He just got old.’
‘That’s sad.’
‘I know.’
‘I hope you never get old.’
‘Me, too.’
‘I don’t want you to die.’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ Sonia said. ‘I’m as fit as a fiddle.’
‘Fiddles can’t be fit; they don’t even go to the gym.’
‘It’s just a saying.’
‘But it’s daft. Why do people say daft things?’
‘Because people are daft.’
Mathew thought of Jim Bentley and nodded. ‘True.’
Finished with the chores, Sonia poured her son a glass of lemonade. They sat at the small kitchen table listening to the grandfather clock in the hall marking time.
Mathew’s mouth had another involuntary spasm and said, ‘I’m really worried about the young girl.’
‘What young girl?’
‘The one at the shop.’
‘Why are you worried about her? Because of the bird?’
‘Yes.’
‘But people die every day, Mathew. You don’t see birds in everyone’s houses, do you?’
Mathew considered this for a moment and then conceded his mother was probably right. He was just being silly again. Too sensitive. Losing his thoughts in the fog, as Gareth would say. Gareth was the coolest brother in the world. He worked as an estate agent and sold houses for millions of pounds. He also drove a brand-new black BMW. Mathew felt like a king when they rode through town in it with the music booming out and all the girls looking at them.
‘You’ve got to stop imagining things, Mathew. I’m sure the girl is fine.’
Mathew thought he heard someone scream, but that was probably just his mind playing tricks and making stuff up. Like when he could still hear Cory Wainwright’s dog barking long after Cory had called it in at night.