Dreams of Leaving by Rupert Thomson Read Free Book Online

how exacting this interview was likely to be, he had been practising all morning in the bathroom mirror. He felt his eyebrows slide into position, he felt ridges forming in the skin above the bridge of his nose. Perfect.
    But Peach turned away from him, making an irrelevance of his expression. ‘Mrs Highness,’ he said, ‘I think
you
know what I mean.’
    Alice’s eyes rolled sideways in their sockets.
    â€˜You mean,’ George rushed in, ‘that someone might have kidnapped Moses? Abduction. Is that what you suspect?’
    â€˜Abduction?’ Peach pretended to be dealing with a possibility that hadn’t occurred to him. ‘No, not abduction.’
    â€˜What then?’
    Alice sniffed. (George had told her to sniff as often as possible. At awkward moments she should cry. But only at awkward moments. Strategy, you see. Anything to distract Peach.)
    â€˜Deception,’ said Peach, yet to be successfully distracted, ‘might be one way of putting it – ’
    George altered the angle of his head. He wanted to appear just that little bit slower than he really was.
    â€˜Subterfuge would be another,’ Peach went on. ‘Intrigue. Finagling. Machination.’ A pause. ‘Conspiracy.’
    George couldn’t resist. ‘Nice words,’ he said. ‘
Roget’s Thesaurus?
’
    Peach’s steady gaze dropped in temperature. ‘Where’s Moses?’ he snapped.
    â€˜I don’t know.’
    â€˜I don’t believe you.’
    The two men’s eyes locked.
    Alice began to cry. George silently applauded her timing then, looking at her, realised that her tears were genuine. He put an arm round her and drew her towards him.
    â€˜If we knew where Moses was,’ he said, ‘we would hardly be sitting here, would we?’
    Peach considered this. ‘I don’t know,’ he said.
    â€˜I thought you knew everything.’
    Peach eased his chair backwards. His mouth widened in anticipation of a smile. The smile never arrived. He folded his hands across his belly. Somehow he managed to make this otherwise homely gesture look threatening. Another silence began. George stared out of the office window. To kill time he counted the thorns on a rose-bush. He had reached thirty-six when Peach spoke.
    â€˜We found a toy dog,’ he offered casually.
    George shifted in his chair. ‘Oh?’
    â€˜By the river.’
    â€˜By the river,’ George repeated. He wondered how Peach knew that Moses had a toy dog.
    â€˜A white toy dog,’ Peach said. Leaning forwards, he reached into an open drawer, produced the white toy dog and stood it upright on the desk.
    George gasped. It was Moses’s toy dog. Alice began to cry again. This time George didn’t notice. He couldn’t understand how the toy dog had fallen into Peach’s hands. He thought he had put it into the basket with Moses. He had certainly intended to. Did this mean that Peach had found Moses too? Was this interview just another of Peach’s sadistic charades? He reached out and picked up the toy dog. He turned it over, playing for time. He was trying to remember. He knew that he had slipped it into his coat pocket that morning. He had wanted Moses to have something to hold, something to comfort him on his lonely journey downstream. But, now he thought about it, he couldn’t actually remember
handing
the toydog to Moses. It must have fallen out of his pocket then. So. Peach knew nothing.
    â€˜Yes,’ George admitted, ‘this is my son’s toy dog.’ He put it back on the desk. His hand was shaking. The dog toppled over. He smiled. He had never been able to make the dog stand up.
    â€˜You don’t seem particularly overwrought,’ Peach observed.
    â€˜What do you want me to do? Break down? Would that satisfy you?’ George’s voice had lifted an octave in sudden anger.
    â€˜Just an observation,’ Peach said. Two shelves of