mate.’
*
‘Hi, Esmeralda.’
‘Hello, Guy.’
‘Daddyyyyyyy!’ Callum came barrelling out of his hiding place behind the end of the couch and crash-tackled my knees.
‘Jesus – you little devil! I’m going to have to get you a grid-iron helmet.’
Esmeralda was standing on the arm of the couch, fiddling with the cord to the curtain, cocooning us in for the cold night ahead.
The sight of it unsettled me.
‘That looks dangerous – you might fall,’ I said to our new nanny. ‘Where’s Mia?’
Esmeralda stepped down lightly. ‘It’s hokay – I’m used to it! Mia still don’t come back from the realtor yet. He found some more places for her maybe.’
‘So what have you two been up to today?’
Callum’s words burst out like a geyser. ‘We goed to da park an’ I played on the swing an’ dere were lots of peoples there an’ I had an ice cream and there was a clown who didn’t talk cos he was too scary so we comed back home and watched TV—’
‘A scary clown?’
‘Oh, he was one a those … waddya call them? … mime artistes.’ Esmeralda said, freezing her arms to demonstrate. ‘He was just like standing there and not moving for like fifteen minutes.’
‘… An he had a white face and really really really scary eyes,’ Callum’s own little eyes bulged at the memory.
‘Yes, he was a leedle scary for the children,’ Esmeralda picked up her bag. ‘Even maybe for the grown-ups, too. My second cousin, Estella – you know, Anthony and Susanna’s maid? – she was with us and she was freaked out, man! His face looked like a death mask where I come from. Like a copse.’
‘Corpse.’ I gave her back the ‘r’. ‘Well, apart from Mr Scary, it sounds like you two had quite a good time. Callum, Esmeralda’s going now – say bye bye.’
‘Bye, Melda.’
‘Bye, leedle man. See you tomorrow.’
I saw that Esmeralda and Callum had documented their outing together on Callum’s blackboard. There were some trees, a swing set, two larger stick figures,
Estella
and
Esmeralda
, a smaller one with an ice cream holding Esmeralda’s hand,
Callum
, and a white unnamed blob at the extreme right.
Mia was tired. And seemed depressed.
The apartments had all been a waste of time.
I poured myself another glass of red. Mia had refused a third glass, though she seemed to have rediscovered her taste for wine if not coffee.
‘You look weary,’ I said. She’d recently cut her hair into a short, sixties bob with a hard, horizontal fringe. I thought it made her look a little severe.
‘I didn’t sleep well last night. I had a very strange dream about Callum.’
I nodded as I put her plate on mine.
‘He was flying through the air with his arms outstretched—’
‘Was he wearing a cape?’
‘Ha, ha, Guy. No. But he was really scared. Terrified. Like he was falling rather than flying. And he couldn’t stop himself.’
‘Paging Dr Freud! You’re probably just worried about how he’ll adjust to living out here.’ I put my hand over hers. ‘The change will be good. For all of us, I reckon. Kids are very adaptable.’
‘Mmmm.’ She seemed unconvinced. ‘But it was
so
vivid. And he was flying through the dark! Poor little baby.’
Since we’d lost the baby in September, Mia’s moods had been erratic. She seemed to be fighting an internal battle of attrition.
‘Why don’t you take it easy for the rest of the week?’ I suggested. ‘We’ve still got a couple more weeks after that to find somewhere to live before Brave Face stop footing the bill. Do some shopping. See some galleries.’ Mia had had vague plans to resurrect her art-brokering business once we’d found Callum some reliable day care.
She held up a little brochure with the words Polonius Realty and a robotically happy couple about to open a stylish-looking front door on the cover. ‘But Susanna’s already made three appointments for us tomorrow. She’s been so helpful. Today she told this sleazy little landlord
Learning to Kill: Stories