Least Said (57 page)

I
waited
and
waited
for
Jon
to
come
home.
I
turned
all
the
lights
out
and
sat
in
the
dark
for
hours,
thinking
that
if
–
when
–
he
returned,
he
would
be
far
more
likely
to
come
inside
if
he
thought
I
had
gone
to
bed.
He
was
probably
wishing
that
he
never
had
to
set
eyes
on
me
ever
again
–
and
I
didn’t
have
it
in
my
heart
to
blame
him,
not
one
bit.

I
couldn’t
even
imagine
what
might
happen
next
because
I
really
couldn’t
bring
myself
to
believe
he
would
ever
find
it
in
himself
to
forgive
me
for
what
I
had
done.
He
had
discovered
in
the
cruellest
way
that
his
precious,
dearly
loved
son
wasn’t
his
flesh
and
blood
–
I
didn’t
know
if
he
would
ever
get
over
something
like
that
–
I
didn’t
know
if
anyone
could.

I
stared
out
of
the
window,
eyes
straining
through
the
darkness
outside
in
the
hope
that
I
would
see
Jon
coming
home.
The
rain
was
lashing
down
now,
the
trees
in
the
garden
were
bending
under
the
force
of
the
wind,
and
he
was
out
there
very
probably
soaked
to
the
skin,
undoubtedly
confused
by
the
sudden
discovery
that
everything
he
had
held
dear
was
no
more
than
a
sham,
and
so
completely
devastated
by
the
unacceptable
truth
that
had
been
thrust
upon
him,
that
he
wouldn’t
even
be
thinking
clearly.

Where
would
he
have
gone?
He
hadn’t
the
means
to
book
a
room
anywhere.
I
knew
that
with
complete
certainty
because
his
wallet
was
still
on
the
hall
table
with
his
credit
cards
and
money
intact,
and
the
only
friends
he
had
were
my
friends,
too.

Our
best
friends
in
the
world
were
Tina
and
Calum,
so
finding
out
that
Tina
knew
about
Will
all
along
would
have
been
like
a
knife
in
the
heart
to
him.
I
knew
that
Jon
would
never
get
in
contact
with
them
now,
not
even
if
he
were
desperate
and
destitute.

I
paced
the
house
until
I
was
exhausted
and
in
the
end
I
went
to
bed,
determined
not
to
fall
asleep,
and
woke
to
a
slither
of
sun
peeping
from
between
the
curtains
and
Jon
in
bed
beside
me.

The
relief
was
so
great
that
it
was
all
I
could
do
not
to
fling
my
arms
around
him
–
a
show
of
affection
that
I
instinctively
knew
would
not
be
welcome
at
all.
In
fact,
I
would
be
lucky
not
to
find
myself
cast
across
to
the
other
side
of
the
room.
Instead,
I
left
him
sleeping,
showered
in
the
bathroom
down
the
hall
instead
of
the
en-suite,
and
crept
downstairs
to
set
the
day
in
motion.
Wondering
and
worrying
what
lay
ahead.

The
main
thing,
I
assured
myself
as
I
set
out
the
breakfast
things,
was
that
Jon
had
come
home.
That
was
a
good
sign
surely?

I’d
started
slicing
tomatoes,
scrambling
eggs
and
grilling
bacon
as
soon
as
I
heard
movement
from
upstairs
and
looked
up
with
a
tentative
smile
when
Jon
appeared
with
a
laughing
Will
on
his
shoulders,
before
placing
the
plate
on
the
table
in
front
of
Jon.
I
realised
it
looked
like
some
kind
of
ridiculous
peace
offering
but
I
felt
I
had
to
start
somewhere.

‘I’m
not
hungry,’
he
said,
immediately
pushing
it
away.

William
looked
at
him
in
astonishment.
‘But
it’s
your
favourite,
Daddy,’
he
pointed
out.

‘I
know,
son,’
I
heard
his
voice
catch
on
the
word,
and
grief
for
what
I
had
done
to
them
both
gripped
me.
‘I’m
just
not
hungry
today.
Perhaps
I
have
a
touch
of
Mummy’s
tummy
bug.’

Will
looked
at
me
then,
and
a
supreme
effort
kept
my
smile
firmly
in
place
which
seemed
to
do
the
trick.

‘Oh,
ok.
Can
I
have
your
bacon
then?’

Jon
managed
a
hoarse
laugh,
and
ruffling
Will’s
hair,
he
pushed
the
plate
over
and
told
him,
‘Eat
as
much
as
you
like,
mate,’
and
then
to
me,
he
said,
‘I’ll
take
him
to
school
this
morning.’