Hit and Run, Maria Frankland [books like harry potter txt] 📗

friend is,” I tell him. “And right now, I don’t care.”

“It’s OK. You’re right. I shouldn’t be quizzing you about your mother.” He puts his arm around my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m right here for you and I’m going nowhere. Is Jack upstairs?”

“No. He’s at school. I haven’t told him what’s happened to Rob yet.”

My phone, which I’ve placed next to the cups, bursts into life. “Speak of the devil. It’s his school. Just a second Dad. I need to take this. Hello?”

“Is that Mrs Matherson?”

“Yes.” Part of me is screaming what now, but another part of me has calmed down now that Dad is here.

“Mrs Matherson. It’s Kay, I’m one of the lunchtime supervisors. I’m afraid I need to ask you to come and collect Jack.”

“Why?” I’d rather he stayed at school, but I don’t tell her that. I hope he’s not ill. I don’t feel as though I can cope with anything else. Not even Jack. Plus, he’s better off being in blissful ignorance for as long as he can be. When I tell him, the poor lad’s world is going to change forever.

“It’s the situation with his father,” she says, her voice oozing with sympathy. “Clearly he knew nothing about his death, and one of the year six boys has said something to him.”

“Oh God. It only broke on the news this morning.” I feel terrible now for thinking I could send him to school and get away with him not finding out. It’s only got to lunchtime. “I’m really sorry.” What was I thinking?

“No, I’m really sorry. It’s absolutely dreadful for you both. If you can come for him, I’ll look after him in the library until you get here.”

“Thank you. Tell him I’ve got his grandad with me. That should settle him down a little until we get there.”

Dad slides a mug along the work surface to me. “Is he OK? Silly question. Of course he’s not. The poor little man.”

I feel better having Dad here. Unless he goes to pieces about Mum. “We haven’t got time to drink this Dad. We’re going to have to get to the school. I let Jack stay at his friend’s last night.” I take a slurp of the tea, then pour the rest down the sink. “I had to identify Rob at the mortuary. I wanted to keep Jack away from it all.”

Dad runs his hand over his thinning hairline. “For God’s sake Fiona. Why didn’t you ring me? Why do you always insist on coping with things on your own?”

“I know.” Tears slide down my face. “I could have happily reached for the brandy last night. I had to go to bed to stop myself.”

“I thought you were over all that.”

“So did I, but it’s not every day your husband dies.”

“Have you got some in the house?”

I nod and point towards the cupboard in the far corner. Dad strides towards it and in one swoop has seized it and pours it down the sink. I watch as it mingles with the tea. It smells terrible. I don’t know how it could have tempted me.

He rinses it away. “Come on.” He reaches an arm out. “I’ll drive. Let’s get that grandson of mine.”

* * *

It’s out. His name.

There’s the usual outpouring of sympathy.

Flowers laid at the scene.

Condolences on social media.

It will pass.

Chapter 12

Dad and I stride across the playground. Over twenty-four hours have passed since Rob died. Somehow, I’m putting one foot in front of the other, unsure how I’m keeping going.

DI Green says after the impact, Rob shouldn’t have felt much, he will have been out of it immediately. He was dead before the ambulance arrived. I’m glad he didn’t die alone. The farmer who had been rounding up his sheep at the other end of the field had been with him as he passed away. He saw nothing other than Rob flying through the air and the top of a car roof driving away. In the bright sunlight, he had said, he couldn’t even make out what colour or shape the car was.

Children hurtle around us as we approach the main entrance. I wonder how long it will be until Jack is running around again, shrieking like the others.

As we get to the door, Dad, as though reading my thoughts, puts his hand on my arm and says, “Jack’ll bounce back. Kids are amazingly resilient – you’ll see.”

The receptionist lets us in and walks us up to the library in silence. She doesn’t refer to what has happened, which surprises me. I suppose many people do not know what to say in such circumstances. Kay, the lunchtime supervisor, is reading a book with Jack. My heart breaks as I observe his red-rimmed eyes and trembling lip. As soon as he sees me, his tears well up. As do mine.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

He gets up and runs towards me. I pick him up and lower onto the tiny chair with him on my lap. This is one occasion where I can’t make it better.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” I sob into his hair. It smells of shampoo that isn’t ours. He’s wearing socks that aren’t his either. Guilt creeps over me like a rash.

Some older children are trying to look in. Kay strides to the window and closes the blinds. Then she comes to sit with us.

“Daniel in year six heard the news on the radio on his way into school this morning,” she explains. “To be honest, it was the first I’d heard of it. You know what kids are like. It quickly spread around the playground.”

I want her to stop wittering so I can talk to Jack.

“You must be Jack’s grandad.” She smiles at Dad. “Jack was pleased when I told him you were coming. He said he was expecting his Granny Maggie though.”

“Can you give us a minute?” I look at her through my tears. “I’d like a word with Jack.”

“Yes – sure. I’ll be outside.” She rises