the other side of the world.’
‘So we’d take our world with us – Delta and Steph. What would be left behind?’
She shook her head hard. ‘But – you fly, Mick. That’s what you do. You fly.’
Mick stared hard at her then slumped back onto the pillow, deflated. ‘I fly.’
‘You love flying.’
‘I love flying.’
‘And you don’t know the first thing about growing grapes.’
Mick sat up again and smiled.
Why did he see this as a positive thing?
‘I know, but I’m learning. I bought shares in a vineyard.’
‘You did what?’ Dominique sat up now as well.
‘And I thought we could go and visit – maybe at Easter-time. We could rent a villa for a fortnight or something over Delta and Steph’s Easter holidays.’
‘You bought shares in a vineyard, Mick?’ Dominique was trying to think and not to think all at the same time.
He passed his hand lazily over her breasts as he sank back onto the pillow and fell quickly asleep, leaving her alone with the night, and the vineyard in New Zealand.
Above the sound of Pink Floyd, Linda heard the flush of the downstairs loo and stood watching herself in the mirror as she held her breath and waited to see if Joe was going to turn off the music and come upstairs to bed. She’d already been down to see him once and she didn’t want to have to go down again. The music carried on. She watched herself exhale then pick up a cleansing pad from the pack by the sink and start to wipe off her make-up, rubbing at her cheeks, eyes and mouth much harder than she needed to.
She spent a long time doing everything in the bathroom – even giving her nails a brush and polish before going through to the bedroom. Then she sat on the end of the bed and listened to Pink Floyd coming up through fitted carpet. Forty minutes must have passed since she’d been downstairs and asked Joe if he was coming up and he’d mouthed the words ‘five minutes’ at her.
She got up from the bed and went downstairs.
Joe was on the sofa, watching TV with the sound off. He didn’t look up.
‘What are you watching?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘How can you hear it?’
‘Subtitles.’
‘What?’ She moved closer to the TV.
He pointed to the screen where there was a band of black with words across it. ‘Subtitles.’
‘The people look Japanese. In the film. They look like Japs, Joe.’
‘Yeah.’
The fact that they were Japanese made her feel like she had a case – that and the fact that it was past midnight.
‘So – you’re coming to bed soon?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You are?’
‘No – I mean, I don’t know.’
‘Right.’ She stood there staring at the screen for another minute. ‘I’ll be upstairs.’ She stopped again by the lounge door, picking up the ends of her dressing-gown belt and letting them slip through her fingers. ‘I thought it went well tonight.’
‘Tonight?’ he said, thinking about this. Then, ‘Oh, tonight. Yeah.’
Back upstairs, she stood at the end of the bed, breathing hard, then took off her dressing gown and put a T-shirt on instead. She climbed onto the exercise bike and after a couple of minutes flicked straight to gradient. At some point the music went off and she thought she heard Joe climbing the stairs, but he didn’t come into the bedroom. She was so angry that she’d been cycling uphill for five minutes now without realising it, and her heart was starting to let out a strange metallic click.
Joe knocked three times then went in. At first he thought Jessica was asleep, but after a while she opened her eyes and took off the headphones.
‘I was nearly asleep.’
‘You should be. It’s one a.m.’
She leant over and turned off the stereo, trying not to disturb Ferdinand, who had his head on her stomach. ‘How was the film?’
‘I don’t know. Everyone died, apart from this one man at the end who was crawling around in the grass. Then he died too.’ He sighed and went over to pull the curtains shut.
‘They’re already shut, Dad.’
‘There was a gap.’
‘Does it matter? There’s nothing out there but fields and trees.’
‘Well, they’re shut now.’ He looked down at the desk. ‘Homework?’
‘No – just something I’m working on.’
‘Looks complicated.’
‘Not really.’
Joe switched the desk light on.
‘Dad, you don’t have to – you’re not interested.’
Joe looked more closely. ‘What is this, Jess?’ He read out, ‘“Botulism poisoning is very rare, but an ounce could kill close on forty-three million people. There is no immunity to it and no effective treatment.”’
Jessica rolled onto her side. ‘It’s part of a chapter on biological hazards.’
‘A chapter? What – you’re writing a book?’
‘On how to survive a nuclear attack.’
‘Since when?’
‘The summer holidays.’
Joe didn’t know what to say. He looked down and read again silently to himself the line he’d just read out loud. Then, glancing up at Jessica’s pinboard, he saw her aged four, sitting on top of his shoulders, and could almost feel the weight of her again. The castle in the photograph was Arundel. They’d walked – his parents and him and Jessica – along the river from Amberley to Arundel. That must have been before his dad got ill. Linda hadn’t come that day; he couldn’t remember why.
‘It’s more of a manual than a book, really.’ Jessica paused. ‘I’m writing it with Mr Browne – well, I’m doing the research anyway.’
‘And who’s Mr Browne?’
‘He lives at number fourteen – the end of the Close.’
‘The end of the Close? Our Close? What does he do?’
‘He was in the army.’
‘And why isn’t he in the army any more?’
‘He retired.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Thirty-seven, I think.’
‘He retired at thirty-seven?’
‘Or left, or something. I don’t know. It’s to do with his leg. Sometimes he uses a walking stick.’
‘How did you meet him?’
‘Youth CND – he came to give a talk.’
Joe sat down on the end of the bed, looking at the blue seashells on the duvet cover.
Jessica sat up on her elbow. ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’