The Child Who (16 page)

Besides. A man at the window. It could have been anyone, no one.

‘Tell me again,’ he said to Megan. ‘The man. At the window. Did you see his face? What did he look like?’

‘He had a beard,’ Megan said. ‘He seemed big but maybe just because he was standing so close to the glass.’ She shivered, shook it off. ‘And his eyes were . . .’ She narrowed hers. ‘Bright. Light, I think.’ She made a gesture: that’s all. Rather: that’s enough.

‘But . . . You said it was dark. Didn’t you? How did you see him if—’

‘I’m not lying, Leo! I’m not making things up!’

Leo raised his hands. ‘I didn’t say you were. I’m just trying to understand, that’s all.’

‘He was smiling at me, Leo. Like he was gloating. Like me seeing him, being frightened by him, was the point.’

There was a rhythm in Leo’s chest and he breathed to try to settle it. ‘And then? What happened then?’

‘Then? Then he went,’ Megan said, her expression fierce. ‘Down the passageway, I assume.’ She looked at her wine glass on the counter. ‘I ran around checking all the windows, all the doors, but everything was locked. After that I shut the curtains. But that was worse, somehow, so I opened them again.’

‘And turned on the lights.’

Megan did not answer.

‘What about after that? Did you see him again after that?’

‘No. I didn’t. The first time was enough, I promise you.’

‘But you didn’t call the police? Why did you not call the police?’

‘I thought about it. I called your office instead. No one seemed to know where you were.’ She tipped her head. ‘Where were you, Leo? Were you with
him
?’

‘I . . . I should get a mobile,’ Leo answered, to distract her. ‘They’re expensive but if it means you’re more at ease. That you’re able to contact me in . . . When there’s an . . .’ He did not want to say the word.

Megan made a noise: something between a scoff and a sigh. ‘It was hardly an emergency, Leo.’

He looked at his wife in surprise.

‘I was scared,’ she said. ‘Probably he was just . . . just some . . .’ She shook her head. ‘I was on edge. After arguing with Ellie, after not knowing where you’d gone. And, anyway, there’s a less expensive solution. If you’re so worried about cost, I mean. If you’re worried about putting me at ease.’

And here it came. Exactly as Leo had predicted. Was this, really, what this whole thing was all about?

‘We’ve discussed this, Meg.’

‘No, Leo, we haven’t. Not properly.’

‘We’ve said all we need to. Don’t you think? I know how you feel, you know how I feel. At the end of the day, it’s my decision. I’m not going to be swayed just because you . . . because of some . . .’ He gestured loosely towards the living room.

‘
Your
decision?’ Megan seemed to wrestle for a moment with her fury. She closed her eyes and clasped her forehead. ‘Can’t you see?’ she said at last. ‘Don’t you realise how this is hurting us? You, me. Ellie above all. And why? For some evil little . . .’ She shook her head in lieu of the noun.

‘Evil? How do you know he’s evil? Christ, Meg, you haven’t even met him!’

‘I don’t want to meet him! That’s the last thing I would want to do! And what’s evil, Leo, if not what he did? What’s evil if not
him
?’

Leo directed his disgust towards the floor. ‘You don’t understand,’ he said. ‘You can’t possibly understand.’

‘I understand perfectly. Better than you do, clearly.’

‘Meaning what exactly?’

‘Meaning why you’re doing this. Meaning what it is you’re trying to prove!’

‘Trying to prove? The only thing I’m trying to prove is that this boy – this child – needs help, not a life in prison.’ Leo shook his head, forgetting for an instant that he was in the middle of an argument. ‘You should meet Daniel’s parents, Meg. In their way they’re as messed up as he is. I mean, it’s no wonder, when you think about it, that—’

‘I don’t care!’ Megan gripped the air. ‘I don’t know why
you
care! Why you seem to care more about a murderer than you do about your family!’

‘That’s not true! And he’s not a—’

Leo stopped himself. Megan stared. She did not speak but she did not have to.

Leo coughed. ‘That . . . that’s not true,’ he said. ‘You and Ellie come first. You know you do.’

Megan moved from her position by the counter. ‘Then
put
us first, Leo. Please.’

The track curved
and the train tipped and the ground beneath them seemed to fall away. Out of one window reared a ragged cliff face; in the other, the bucking sea. A wave lunged and clawed the track, then slid back into the writhing mass. The water, in the winter sun, sparkled like a lunatic’s grin. It seemed joyous, heedless, unconstrained in its dementia. It launched itself again and this time lashed the carriage but the train seemed barely to judder. It sped on – lungs full, head down – and dived for the approaching tunnel.

The world turned black.

It had been Leo’s idea. A day out, just the three of them. To the coast. How about Dawlish? Megan had been averse, initially; suspicious, though of what specifically she probably could not have said. Leo had remained steadfast, however, acting as though her objections were grounded in the purely mundane. Agreed, he said: the weather wasn’t perfect but when, in this country, was it ever? The sun was out; it was just a bit windy. So let’s just go. Shall we? It would be good for Ellie. It would be good for all of us. Please, Meg. What do you say?

Ellie, it had turned out, had been even more reluctant than her mother. She had argued, to the point where Leo had nearly given up, when Megan had brought her convert’s zeal into the fight. Together they had convinced her – dragged her – and here, now, was their collective reward. Fun, part one: the train ride.

And it was spectacular. In this final section of the journey from the city, the Riviera Line laced itself along the country’s edge. The ocean was beside them – beneath them, it felt like – and only the tunnels offered intermittent shelter from waves that were rising to the season. Even Ellie, in her withdrawn, anxious way, seemed – almost – thrilled. Seated on her own and facing sideways, her breath was steaming the glass. As they emerged from the tunnel a wave pounced and she recoiled in imitated terror. She even squealed, just as any child might. But then the wave receded and Ellie turned to Megan with a display of something more like genuine fear.

‘Isn’t this dangerous?’

Leo looked from his daughter to his wife. ‘Dangerous?’ He turned back. ‘What do you mean?’

Ellie answered but addressed her mother. ‘The waves. The train. What if we get knocked off the rails?’

There was a woman, Megan’s age, on the seats across from theirs and she caught Leo’s eye and offered a smile. Leo forged one back.

‘We’ll be fine, darling,’ said Megan. ‘They wouldn’t let the train run if they didn’t think it was safe.’

But then another wave broke and this one, Leo would have sworn, wrapped itself over the roof. Megan gave a start and, perhaps forgetting herself, turned to Leo with a schoolgirl’s grin. Leo was too surprised, in the instant he had, to react. He thought belatedly about reaching for his wife’s hand but hesitated and lost his chance.

‘Mum.’

Megan crossed from Leo’s seat to Ellie’s. She slid an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and Leo felt a pang. Even though it was with her mother that Ellie had argued, Leo remained the focus of her ire: his punishment, as far as Leo had deduced, for having complained to his daughter’s school.

‘It’s fine, darling, I promise.’ Megan smiled and Ellie sank into her mother’s embrace. Leo smiled too and waited for Ellie to look towards him – to include him. She did not. The stranger was still watching and Leo turned away to conceal his flush.

He had not expected it to be so busy. The village, he had assumed, would be deserted. One or two hardy tourists, perhaps; local dog-walkers moseying along the beach. But crowded cafes, packed-out pavements: they were not part of Leo’s plan.

They had stopped at the corner of the central green. Leo had, rather. Megan and Ellie were already several paces further on.

‘What?’ Megan said, turning.

‘All these people. It’s just . . . I thought the idea was to get away for the day.’

‘The idea was to have a day out. The three of us.’ Megan glanced at Ellie, who was staring anxiously at her father. ‘Leo,’ Megan said, when Leo did not answer. Her tone – her expression – was a warning.

Leo considered the crowds. He considered his daughter.
How would you like it, Leo?

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Let’s just stay together, that’s all. No wandering off.’

They wandered off.

Leo twisted, turned on tiptoe – and finally spotted them at the window of a clothes shop. He snapped and Megan scowled and proceeded, in retribution, to lead their daughter inside.

Leo made to follow but settled on waiting outside the door. He studied the people passing by. They were grouped in families mainly, just like theirs. But cheerier, less uptight. Some bore ice creams, others shopping bags, others just a flush on their cheeks from the winter wind. There were people by themselves, too: an older woman, a younger man, two black-clad teenagers in quick succession. None, though, seemed a threat. None seemed even to notice that Leo was there. It was just this breeze, that was all; the expanse of sea. He felt exposed because they were not locked away at home. Which was foolish too, in a way. Illogical, because if someone really wanted to find them – to watch them – their home was the obvious place to come looking. Here, amid the crowds, was about the safest place they could be.

By the sackload, Leo. Remember?

He was on edge but there was no need to be. Had he not already decided that? When Ellie and Meg came outside he would see about setting this day of theirs back on track.

‘Ready?’ he said as they emerged. He noticed they each held a bag. ‘You bought something.’ Naturally they had. Something, no doubt, they would never wear. But, ‘Great. What say we find somewhere to get ice cream?’ Somewhere quieter, he did not add, wondering in spite of himself how much of the day a day trip was supposed to take up.

Leo led and the girls trailed. Megan seemed cheered by her purchase and that was something. She did not speak directly to Leo but she attuned herself to his enthusiasm. She seemed, if nothing else, to remember the reason they had come.

‘Ellie.’ Megan nudged her daughter and pointed across the square towards the beach. The waves were storming the sea wall, breaking with the force of a battering ram and hurling up a spray that crackled, as it landed, like sparks. ‘Look at that. Look at those people!’ A crowd had gathered along the promenade but had ventured too close to the shore. Another wave broke and there was screaming, bodies diving for the dry.

Ellie watched but without any evident delight. ‘Will the train still be running?’ she said. ‘Will we still be able to get home?’

Their daughter, this time, had turned to Leo. He started to respond, to reassure – but his words, barely formed, withered. He cast his attention over the top of his daughter’s head.

Who was that?

A man, standing on his own in the square, watching them – was he? – when everyone around him was watching the waves. He seemed young but from Leo’s distance it was hard to be sure. The man was slight, and slightly stooped. He held his chin level with his shoulders, as though his overcoat was leaking the chill. There was something around his neck – a camera? – and a baseball cap covering his crown. Leo raised himself onto his toes to get a view of the man’s face but, as he did so, the man tucked himself into the crowd. Leo shifted but a hand on his wrist tugged him round.

‘Dad? Will they close the line? What’ll we do if we can’t get home?’

Leo stared at his daughter, conscious of the question but unable, at that moment, to associate it with an answer. He looked again towards the man but the man, this time, was gone.

‘They won’t close the line, darling.’ Megan slid an arm around Ellie’s shoulders. She coaxed her daughter towards her. ‘If they do, your father will just have to pay for a taxi.’ Megan led her daughter along the street. Leo, with a final glance behind, could only follow.

‘And marshmallows. Can I have marshmallows?’ Ellie looked left, right, and met assent on both sides. The lady behind the counter garnished the tub of ice cream and speared it with a plastic spoon. She offered it across the counter and returned Ellie’s smile.

‘And for you, madam?’

Megan drew a hand to her waistline. ‘Nothing for me. Thank you.’

‘Sir?’

Leo checked again through the glass door. There was a man in a windcheater blocking his view, moving one way, back again, so that Leo had to shift in unison to try to find a gap.

‘Sir?’

A tug on his sleeve. ‘Leo.’

‘Sorry? What?’ He turned and his wife was glaring.

‘This was your idea, Leo. Don’t you want one?’

‘Sorry. Yes. Just . . .’ He pointed at a tub of something yellow. ‘Just vanilla. Thanks.’ The man was still blocking the door.