Hide and Seek

Hide and Seek by Amy Bird Page A

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Authors: Amy Bird
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people I know don’t display excitement by biting their fingernails and giving monosyllabic answers to questions.
    Fake dad and Will install the crib in the nursery. There’s a hammer nestling in the crib too, now, retrieved from Will’s ‘parental’ home. Didn’t hear fake dad ask Will’s cheat of a mum about it; he must just have found it himself. Maybe he figured Will’s mum couldn’t take any more accusations in one night. Its easy-grip handle shines out in the dark, like a little metal baby with an orange muffler. Finally, fake dad leaves.
    “Well?” I say to Will.
    “Never put me through an evening like that again!” he says.
    Oh. I see. We are having a testosterone reaction. This happens sometimes. Apparently his mum’s sleeping around is now my fault. We’ll go for calm, docile – not the usual shouting back approach. Calm it down.
    “Sweetie, I’m sorry if I upset you. It’s just there are certain signs – ”
    “The way you were doing all that manoeuvring, that manipulating, it was – ”
    “How I got you in my clutches in the first place,” I say, aiming for coquettish.
    I see from the shocked look on his face that I have missed the mark.
    “OK, forget I said that.” Moving on. “Look, I know it’s a bit disorientating, a bit – ”
    “Disorientating? Listen to yourself! You are trying to say that my dad isn’t my dad at all, I’m some, some bastard child, from a sex romp between my mum and a random composer!”
    “Not a sex romp. You saw how that letter was signed off. And there was a photo, in the album, of them, together.” If only he’d listen. If only I didn’t have to cope with this male reaction. Anger is not an appropriate response to logic.
    “What, on a date?”
    “No, a group of them, your mum, your fake dad – ”
    “Cut that out!”
    “OK, Gillian and John, if you prefer, in a group shot, at a picnic, including Max Reigate.”
    “Which proves nothing. Absolutely nothing. Jesus, Ellie – why are you so determined this should be right?”
    “It’s not a case of me being determined. It’s just right. It stacks up.”
    Will leaves the nursery and moves into the bedroom.
    “Look, I have to go to work tomorrow, this talk and die lecture is coming up, I need to put some good hours in…” he says.
    “I just wish we could see that letter,” I say. “That would prove it.”
    “Ellie, leave it, OK? I’m tired,” he says, doing a fake yawn.
    “I bet she’s locked it away on one of those study drawers,” I tell him. “All we need to do is break in, prise them open, and – ”
    “‘All we need to do is break in’!” Will repeats back at me. “Do you know what?” He glares at me. But then I never do know what. Because he leaves this long pause and it’s like he’s making himself be calm. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, softer. “We’re both tired. Let’s just get some sleep, OK?” And he kisses me on the forehead.
    So that’s it, fight over? I feel vaguely disappointed. Where do I go now with my theory on his father, if we’re not going to shout about it? Actually, screw ‘theory’ – I’m pretty damn sure I’m right about this. All the evidence is there. Plus it just feels right, you know? Otherwise, why would Will be so in love with that music? It’s in his blood.
    As Will brushes his teeth, I consider as I lie in bed going into the bathroom to continue the discussion. Because it’s for his benefit, not mine. What do I care who his father is? I just feel he has a right to know. But I don’t move, I just stay where I am in bed. Otherwise, I might end up telling him all I know about Max Reigate. What I learnt, when I Googled him. It would be too much for Will, at this stage. Better get him to accept the main fact, before I move onto the others. Other.
    Besides, it will all be all right in the morning, as Mum used to say, when she tucked me in. Any remaining tension will be gone. She had this almost pagan belief that the sun

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