good!’
They ate so much pizza they could scarcely move, then they watched a DVD of Schenectady, New York on Lara’s laptop. No one quite understood it except Olly, who was pitiless in his scorn at his family’s lack of comprehension. Jack curled up against Lara and slept.
‘Time for bed now, everyone,’ Lara said, as Marcus lugged Jack upstairs. Olly sighed and pulled himself to his feet, but Bella hung back.
‘Mum,’ she said, once Olly’s heavy tread had journeyed its way to the top of the stairs. ‘Olly’s being a total pain in the arse.’
‘Not still?’ Lara said, as she folded up the empty pizza boxes, taking care not to spill too many greasy crumbs on the floor. ‘Pass me that glass, will you?’
‘He’s still going on about Jonny. It’s just …’ Bella stood on the threshold of the living room, twisting her knuckles, a bloom of red rising in her cheeks.
‘Well, it meant a lot to him, you going out with his best mate,’ Lara said, busy tidying up the room after the slobbish feast. ‘He’ll get over it soon enough, though. Come on; don’t just stand there like a lemon, Bella. Pick up those plates will you?’
Sighing, Bella clattered the plates into a pile, carried them through to the kitchen and dumped them on the draining board.
‘I know Olly can be a bit of a headache,’ Lara said, taking her by the hands. ‘But it’s only because he loves you.’
‘Oh what’s the use? You don’t understand,’ Bella said, breaking away. ‘I’m going to bed.’ She stomped into the living room, and, shoving the door as if she had a personal grudge against it, flew into the hall and noisily up the stairs.
Teenagers, Lara thought in the silence of Bella’s wake. Who’d have them?
Then she turned to get on with the washing-up.
When she got back downstairs from kissing the children goodnight – a ritual she adhered to, no matter how much the older ones insisted it was no longer necessary or desired by them – Lara found Marcus sitting on the porch swing seat having a cigarette. Beside him stood another bottle of wine and two glasses. She sat down next to him.
‘This is the life,’ Marcus said. ‘I think for once we have made completely the right decision.’
She searched his face for meaning. Was this a sort of apology for the baby? She thought perhaps it was. That was what she needed to believe, anyway. He put his arm around her and leaned forward to kiss her.
‘I l-l-l-love you L-L-L-Lara.’ It was how he always said it.
‘Me too you,’ she said. Her habitual response.
‘I suppose a shag’s out of the question?’
Lara broke away. ‘I’m not ready yet.’
‘Yes. Yes. Of course. Sorry.’
An army of biting insects had begun to gather around the light on the porch. Marcus slapped a mosquito on his neck. ‘We’d better go in or we’re going to be eaten alive,’ he said. ‘Always a serpent in paradise.’
‘I’m pooped,’ Lara said. She picked up the bottle and glasses and headed back indoors. Marcus switched out the light and followed her.
‘What did the tyres cost?’ he asked as they went upstairs.
‘A hundred dollars,’ she turned and told him.
‘Jesus Christ.’
Seven
LARA STOOD ON THE PORCH IN HER RUNNING GEAR, DRINKING A PINT of water to replace the fluid she had perspired over a muggy, sleepless night. Dawn cast a spidery light across the sky and a green freshness tempered the rubbery stink of Trout Island.
She put down her glass, plugged in her earphones, set Morrissey playing on her iPod, and moved off on a brisk, warm-up walk along Main Street. When she turned down Sixth, she started to run.
Since she had used it to lose the weight gained while pregnant with Jack, Lara and running had been an item. Her favourite route was along the seafront back home – all flat concrete to keep her ankles safe, with the ever-changing sideshow of the English Channel to her side.
The early sweat prickled on her. She crossed a bridge over a fast-flowing river