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Back Come a Little Closer Save as PDF
Chapters (39)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. JUNE
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. JULY
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. AUGUST
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. OCTOBER
  36. 30
  37. Acknowledgements
  38. Read More
  39. THE BEGINNING

‘You’ve been very kind,’ she murmurs, ‘but I can’t stay here.’ And then she hurries away from him, down into the darkness.

There is silence in the hall. Anton thinks of the olives and the salted almonds and the wine. He thinks of the soft cadences of her voice, the cool alabaster skin. He thinks of her wrapped in Charlotte’s dress, the shy manner in which she’d looked at him in the mirror. Such furious disappointment curdles in his stomach that his fists clench and the blood rushes to his head.

Behind him, Mark stands, waiting, by the bottom step. When Anton turns, the boy is staring at him, his face blank of expression, his eyes two hollows in his face.

‘Son,’ Anton says, but Mark doesn’t want to listen. He’s had enough excuses and lies.

He turns away his bruised and swollen face in disgust. The front door slams behind him.

24

Leah

Leah lies still in the bed, listening. In the course of the past few days, she has grown accustomed to the sounds of the house – the creak of a door opening and closing, the splutter of water from the tap in the bathroom, the gentle shushing of Anton’s leather slippers across the wooden boards. Sometimes, he sings lightly as he moves about the house, tunes she doesn’t recognize, his voice surprisingly sweet and low. When he makes tea, she hears the ding of the kettle and the clatter of china on the tray. There is something comforting about these sounds, about his presence, about the quiet tenderness of his care of her. Leah knows that she ought to return to the basement flat, to try to piece her life back together. She’s aware of the strangeness of their arrangement. But, right now, she’s just so tired. It’s all she can do to cross the landing to the bathroom and back again. She cannot face eating, and sleeps fitfully. Days have passed since she showered, and she’s aware of the bodily smells that thicken the air of the room. But something is holding her back. A deep fear keeps her trapped.

She listens to the footsteps crossing the hall downstairs, hears the pause at the bottom, and then a voice calling: ‘Dad?’