Losing You Read Free Page A

eavesdropping Karen that I was in a perfectly civilized discussion. ‘We’re leaving in an hour or so for the airport.’
    ‘I’m speaking theoretically. I’m speaking about principle. You know that word? Principle? The principle of a father seeing his daughter.’
    ‘You’ve got a son as well,’ I said. I had always hated the way he was besotted with Charlie and often seemed barely to notice Jackson, who adored him.
    ‘Of a father seeing his children. That’s what I’m speaking about.’ His voice broke up.
    ‘You’re on your mobile. You’re not driving, are you?’ Drunk-driving was what I meant but didn’t say.
    ‘I got your solicitor’s letter.’
    I was wary now. I’d asked my solicitor, Sally, who was also a close friend, to write a letter to his solicitor. It had been the first step on an unpleasant road. The letter warned him that if his behaviour with Jackson and Charlie didn’t become more rational I would be forced to seek a restraining order. I’d done it after their last visit, when he’d got drunk and knocked Jackson over. The children hadn’t told me about it until I’d insisted on knowing how the bruise on Jackson’s shoulder had come about.
    ‘You just want to take them away.’
    ‘I don’t,’ I said hopelessly.
    ‘It’s Christmas and I won’t see them.’
    ‘I’ve got to go. I’ll ring you from home.’
    ‘Don’t cut me off.’
    ‘I’m not. I’m saying I’ll call you in a few minutes. Have a strong coffee or something and I’ll call you.’
    ‘What does that mean, ‘‘have a strong coffee’’?’
    ‘’Bye, Rory.’
    I clicked the phone off. I blinked and hoped it might look as if it was just the wind in my face.
    ‘Oh dear,’ said Karen. ‘Upset?’
    ‘He’s fine.’ I felt my pity flare into protectiveness before Karen’s blatant curiosity. ‘I mean, no.’
    ‘Christmas can be difficult for the absent father, can’t it?’
    ‘I guess.’
    ‘And, after all, Rory was always rather…’ She was searching for the exact word. ‘Volatile,’ she said at last, with heavy-handed tact. ‘Like Charlie,’ she added. ‘Not like you and Jackson. You’re always so polite and methodical.’
    I turned with relief to my now nicely chugging car. ‘That’s fantastic, Rick. Thanks so much.’
    ‘Don’t mention it.’
    ‘Now go and work on your boat,’ I said. I stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss on both cold, stubbly, grease-stained cheeks.
    ‘Not just yet,’ said Karen. ‘I need him for something else.’
    I sensed that I should escape before a really serious row broke out.
    ‘I’m going to collect Jackson and finish the packing. ’Bye, Karen.’ I kissed her too, missing her cheek and landing on her nose. ‘Thanks for the coffee. Take care, Eamonn.’
    I got into the car, pulled the door shut and wound down the window.
    ‘Happy Christmas,’ I called, as I reversed down the drive. I waved, then swung into the narrow lane. ‘And new year.’
    I put it into first gear and drew away, free. The car rattled happily as I went.
    As soon as I had turned inland and was out of sight, I pulled over, tugged my mobile out of my back pocket and phoned Christian. The engine was still running, and the heating system blew warm air on to my hands while my feet remained cold. Outside, gusts of wind rattled in the bare branches of the trees and blew twigs and tin cans along the road. He didn’t answer his landline, so I tried his mobile but only got his voicemail.
    ‘It’s just me,’ I said into it. ‘And I don’t really know why I’m calling.’
    I had first met Christian when I was in the third year of my degree in maths. He was a graduate in marine biology. I was going out with Rory by then and I used to spend every weekend in London with him. We were planning our future together, and university already felt like part of my past. I liked Christian and his circle of friends. But because he was of the world I was preparing to leave, I didn’t remember him