Page 74 of The Last Train Home
‘Teddy,’ I say and he nods. ‘He’s two now. He’s such a little character. Has a thing about stones, has nice little buddies in nursery. Loves cars – mainly red ones. We’re toying with the idea of having another baby, actually.’ I’m not quite sure why I’ve said this.
‘That would be a nice age gap,’ Ken says thoughtfully.
‘I think so. Not sure Samantha’s so up for it, though. We’ll see what happens.’
Ken nods and then mercifully changes the subject. ‘If your little boy loves cars, there’s a classic-car rally on at Audley End next weekend. You should take him.’
‘I don’t think we’ve got anything in the diary for next weekend,’ I say, thinking about it.
‘Trish and I are going. She hates cars, but we do keep each other company at weekends every now and again.’
‘Sounds fair.’
‘Why don’t you buy a couple of tickets and come with us? Or we could meet you there for a quick drink, if you didn’t fancy hanging around with us all day. Trish would love the chance to meet you, after all these years.’
I think about it. I’m not sure it’s Samantha’s cup of tea, hanging out with Abbie’s parents at a classic-car rally, but Teddy would love it. I nod.
‘Yeah, that would be great. I’ll buy us some tickets.’
Chapter 48
Abbie
August 2008
‘Let me get this straight,’ I say to my mum after my dad has picked up and we’ve had a very brief ‘hello’, before my mum leaps onto the call. I’m not sure if I’m annoyed yet. For now, I’m just thoroughly confused. ‘Dad and Tom went to Wimbledon together?’
My mum cuts in. ‘No, love, they bumped into each other afterwards and then went for a drink.’
I haven’t managed to speak to my parents in weeks, which is a huge oversight, but work has been non-stop and the time-zone clash has been an issue. Normally my parents have nothing to report, other than work woes and Ofsted inspections. But now … now I discover that a whole bunch of stuff has happened.
‘But theydidplan to go to a classic-car rally together?’ I ask.
‘Yes.’ There’s a hint of exasperation in my mum’s voice, as if I’m grilling her. Iamgrilling her. I need to work out the finer details of what has gone on here, and then I’ll be fine.
‘And so you went – you and Dad, him and Teddy – and hung out together at a country-house car-show thing?’
‘Ye-es,’ my mum draws out the word.
I transfer my phone to the other ear. This Skype connection is a bit hazy.
‘OK,’ I say. But I’m not OK. Why am I not OK? Why are my parents hanging out with Tom?
My mum’s quiet. She’s expecting me to say something mature at this point.
I sigh. ‘How is he?’
‘He seems very well, but you are, of course, free to ask him this yourself.’
I’m not going to do that. ‘We don’t really talk any more,’ I say.
‘You could do the mature thing and send him a little message,’ my mum offers.
‘Yes, I know,’ I say. ‘Did he mention me?’
‘Not that I’m aware of,’ Mum says. ‘But your dad had a good chat with him in the pub, so maybe—’
‘Can you put Dad back on, please,’ I say, far too quickly. I turn round to check where Sean is in the flat. He’s on the balcony with a beer and his phone. I turn the air-con down a bit while he’s not in the apartment.
