Marcus asked Lara.
‘Out in the sticks somewhere. I’ve got the address, and, now the internet’s working, we can Google Map it,’ Lara said.
‘We’re online?’ Marcus said. ‘Well done, you clever little geek.’
‘And James said something about there being a big surprise for us,’ Lara added.
‘Ooh, a surprise from James. Can’t wait,’ Olly said, waving his hands in the air.
‘You watch your step, young man,’ Marcus said.
‘Chill pill.’
Marcus’s riposte was swallowed by the slow crescendo of a siren somewhere close by. It grew until Lara had to put her hands over Jack’s tender ears, for fear of them being hurt. Then, as slowly as it started, the noise faded, leaving a dense silence in its wake.
‘What was that?’ Lara said. She felt as terrified as Jack looked.
‘It was the same yesterday,’ Bella said. ‘When you were in town.’
‘It’s cool.’ Olly shrugged. ‘It’s some practice for terrorist raids. I read about it.’
‘Oh did you?’ Lara said, raising an eyebrow.
‘Actually,’ Marcus said, through a mouthful of the pasta he had continued to eat throughout the siren, ‘it’s a test for the fire brigade. They do it every day at noon during the summer. James told me when it went off once when we were Skypeing. So,’ he said, shovelling the last forkful into his mouth, ‘chill pill, Olly.’
‘Right,’ Lara said when they had finished their meal. ‘You lot are going to clear up and I need a couple of Jack-free hours this afternoon to get this place together.’
‘I’ve got lines to do,’ Marcus said, shrugging.
‘Bella? Olly? Can you look after your brother for a bit?’ She would have liked Marcus to take responsibility just for once, though. Rehearsals started in two days, and he would be completely out of the picture. She resented having to use up her twin babysitting hours too soon.
Olly groaned.
‘I suppose we can take him to the playground,’ Bella said after a pause.
‘There’s a playground? Fantastic!’ Lara said to Jack, whose ears had pricked up.
‘I’d hardly call it that,’ Olly said. ‘Crap would be a better word.’
‘Well, whatever, you’ll help your mother out,’ Marcus said, standing up. ‘Now. Washing-up. I’ll wash and you two dry and put away.’
‘And don’t forget Jack’s sunblock,’ Lara said. ‘His skin’s not like yours, remember?’
‘I think we know that by now, Smother,’ Bella said.
Lara gave her daughter a look. Then, without warning, her insides cramped. She gasped and grabbed the back of a chair.
‘Everything all right?’ Marcus said.
‘Yes,’ Lara said. She didn’t want to tell him. She wanted to look forward rather than back.
‘You sure?’
‘I’m fine, really.’
As the others carried the plates into the kitchen, Lara headed off upstairs to unpack, picking up her laptop on the way to provide her with a bit of music while she worked. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and wondered what it was about that part of the house that made her want to run through as fast as she could. In the centre of the pale brown hall carpet a large dark purple blotch stared up at her. It could possibly be, she thought, an Agatha Christie set dressing. She knelt and sniffed at the stain. It smelled faintly metallic and rancid, like a rusty saucepan containing some old dishwater, and it was slightly rough to the touch.
She sat back on her knees and surveyed the hallway. The carpet was fitted to the room, so was no theatre prop; it must have been here for many, many years. She would ask James if she could pull it up.
Up in the bedroom, she set The Smiths’ The Queen is Dead going on iTunes, using the drum break of the first track to give the energy to haul the suitcases on to the bed.
Lifting Jack’s clothes out of the case she had shared with him, she placed them in neatly folded piles on the wooden shelving in the eaves room at the side of the bedroom.
She liked unpacking. Even if they were only
‘Out in the sticks somewhere. I’ve got the address, and, now the internet’s working, we can Google Map it,’ Lara said.
‘We’re online?’ Marcus said. ‘Well done, you clever little geek.’
‘And James said something about there being a big surprise for us,’ Lara added.
‘Ooh, a surprise from James. Can’t wait,’ Olly said, waving his hands in the air.
‘You watch your step, young man,’ Marcus said.
‘Chill pill.’
Marcus’s riposte was swallowed by the slow crescendo of a siren somewhere close by. It grew until Lara had to put her hands over Jack’s tender ears, for fear of them being hurt. Then, as slowly as it started, the noise faded, leaving a dense silence in its wake.
‘What was that?’ Lara said. She felt as terrified as Jack looked.
‘It was the same yesterday,’ Bella said. ‘When you were in town.’
‘It’s cool.’ Olly shrugged. ‘It’s some practice for terrorist raids. I read about it.’
‘Oh did you?’ Lara said, raising an eyebrow.
‘Actually,’ Marcus said, through a mouthful of the pasta he had continued to eat throughout the siren, ‘it’s a test for the fire brigade. They do it every day at noon during the summer. James told me when it went off once when we were Skypeing. So,’ he said, shovelling the last forkful into his mouth, ‘chill pill, Olly.’
‘Right,’ Lara said when they had finished their meal. ‘You lot are going to clear up and I need a couple of Jack-free hours this afternoon to get this place together.’
‘I’ve got lines to do,’ Marcus said, shrugging.
‘Bella? Olly? Can you look after your brother for a bit?’ She would have liked Marcus to take responsibility just for once, though. Rehearsals started in two days, and he would be completely out of the picture. She resented having to use up her twin babysitting hours too soon.
Olly groaned.
‘I suppose we can take him to the playground,’ Bella said after a pause.
‘There’s a playground? Fantastic!’ Lara said to Jack, whose ears had pricked up.
‘I’d hardly call it that,’ Olly said. ‘Crap would be a better word.’
‘Well, whatever, you’ll help your mother out,’ Marcus said, standing up. ‘Now. Washing-up. I’ll wash and you two dry and put away.’
‘And don’t forget Jack’s sunblock,’ Lara said. ‘His skin’s not like yours, remember?’
‘I think we know that by now, Smother,’ Bella said.
Lara gave her daughter a look. Then, without warning, her insides cramped. She gasped and grabbed the back of a chair.
‘Everything all right?’ Marcus said.
‘Yes,’ Lara said. She didn’t want to tell him. She wanted to look forward rather than back.
‘You sure?’
‘I’m fine, really.’
As the others carried the plates into the kitchen, Lara headed off upstairs to unpack, picking up her laptop on the way to provide her with a bit of music while she worked. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and wondered what it was about that part of the house that made her want to run through as fast as she could. In the centre of the pale brown hall carpet a large dark purple blotch stared up at her. It could possibly be, she thought, an Agatha Christie set dressing. She knelt and sniffed at the stain. It smelled faintly metallic and rancid, like a rusty saucepan containing some old dishwater, and it was slightly rough to the touch.
She sat back on her knees and surveyed the hallway. The carpet was fitted to the room, so was no theatre prop; it must have been here for many, many years. She would ask James if she could pull it up.
Up in the bedroom, she set The Smiths’ The Queen is Dead going on iTunes, using the drum break of the first track to give the energy to haul the suitcases on to the bed.
Lifting Jack’s clothes out of the case she had shared with him, she placed them in neatly folded piles on the wooden shelving in the eaves room at the side of the bedroom.
She liked unpacking. Even if they were only
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