Devil's Rock - Chris Speyer [43]
‘But I almost forgot!’ she exclaimed, breaking off. ‘You started your new school this week. How are you getting on?’
So his father hadn’t told her about the business with the hawk. ‘I’ll tell you all about it when you come home,’ he said.
There was another pause. Zaki waited, willing her to say when that would be, longing to ask the direct question – ‘When are you coming back?’ – but unwilling to risk the disappointment of hearing her say ‘I don’t know,’ or ‘Soon, but I’m not sure when,’ or ‘I’ll tell you as soon as I know.’
‘Well . . .’ said his mother after a bit, ‘I suppose I’d better be getting on.’
Zaki’s heart sank. ‘Do you want to talk to Dad?’
‘I spoke to him earlier. Is Michael around?’
‘He’s out.’
‘Practising with his band, I suppose?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I hope he’s not letting it distract him from his schoolwork. But I’m sure your dad wouldn’t let that happen.’
Could that have been what the argument had been about? Zaki wondered. No, surely not.
‘Send your brother a big hug from me, won’t you,’ said his mother. ‘It’s all right, I won’t ask you to kiss him from me.’
They both laughed.
‘How’s Grandad?’
‘He’s fine. He’s got a new cat.’
‘Grandad doesn’t like cats!’
‘He only pretends he doesn’t. Anyway, it’s not really his cat, but he gives it milk.’
‘What does Jenna think?’
‘She’s jealous.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
Zaki tried to think of things to say that would prolong the conversation but now his mother was saying goodbye, explaining she was going out, that she had to hurry, and as soon as he managed to mumble his goodbyes the phone went dead and she was gone.
Zaki sat looking at the phone. He reran the conversation in his head, holding on to the faint echo of his mother’s laugh. He pictured her leaning against the kitchen counter, a mug of tea cradled between both hands, laughing. It was the sort of laugh that made you smile no matter how you were feeling. Whenever Zaki thought about his mother, her laughter was the thing he could remember most clearly. Then he realised something he hadn’t thought about – before she left for Switzerland, she had stopped laughing. It had been gradual. When had it started? When they moved to Moor Lane? He couldn’t say for certain, but now that he thought about it he couldn’t remember her laughing in the months before she left. Did she stop laughing because she was going to Switzerland, or did she go to Switzerland because she had stopped laughing? she seemed to be happy now. Had they made her unhappy? Zaki wanted to ask her what they had done. He put his hand on the telephone – but she was going out, she wouldn’t be there. He folded the scrap of paper with her number on it and put it in his pocket.
Zaki could hear the sound of the television in the living room. His father would be watching the news. He put his dirty dinner plate in the dishwasher before leaving the kitchen. Passing the living-room doorway, Zaki saw his father sitting in one of the armchairs; the television was on but his father was staring at the window. Zaki continued on to his bedroom, where he took his mother’s telephone number from his pocket and hid it in his sock drawer, as if it were something he shouldn’t have.
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That night Zaki tried to stay awake, listening for the sound of his brother returning, but the events of the day had worn him out and he drifted into a troubled sleep. He was in the cave again – the skeleton had gone and in its place, on the rock ledge, crouched a dark, shadowy form. It was growing. Each time he took a breath, the thing on the ledge got bigger. He tried not to breathe but he couldn’t hold his breath for ever. It would fill the cave. It would suffocate him! He wanted to escape, but he couldn’t move – couldn’t turn his back on that thing on the ledge. He woke. The house was quiet. He was sure the dark thing from his dream was somewhere in the room. Perhaps he was still dreaming.
g
Chapter 13
Breakfast the next morning was eaten in almost total silence. Michael had returned sometime in the night from wherever he had been and was up and dressed uncharacteristically