Her Perfect Family(9)

‘Hello Mel? How’s it going?’ He’s surprised to hear from her so soon. It’s Friday – two days since the horror of the cathedral – and she’s already phoned several times, on each occasion sounding more and more stretched. It’s unlike her.

‘Listen. I know I shouldn’t ask but do you have time to meet at our café, Matt?’ Her tone’s uncertain and her voice is quieter than usual. He can’t read it.

‘Yeah – sure. Not much on here today actually. An hour?’

‘Perfect. Thank you.’

‘You OK, Mel?’ He’s surprised she even has time to meet him.

There’s a pause. ‘No. Not really. The politics on this one are off the scale, Matt. We’ve got the media crawling all over us. I’m wondering whether I’m up to this.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, you’re up to this.’

‘Everyone wants a decision on whether the final graduation ceremony should go ahead next week. I mean, we’ve ruled out terrorism, but it’s an odd case. So public. I’m not sure I can make the call yet. We’ll have the CSI team on site a while.’ She’s talking too fast. ‘Don’t they realise I have to put the inquiry above everything else? Above the politics. Above the economic worries—’

‘Right. Take a deep breath, Mel. Save it for the café. One step at a time. We’ll talk it all through.’ He pauses. ‘Order carrot cake. A huge slice. You need sugar.’

At last she laughs. ‘Thank you, Matt. I appreciate this.’

‘No problem. See you in an hour.’

He hangs up and sips at the coffee before quickly dialling home. Sal texted earlier to say their daughter was playing up again.

‘Hi there, honey. How’s Amelie?’

‘Complete nightmare.’ Sal’s whispering. ‘She still won’t go to nursery. I’ve tried absolutely everything.’

‘Tummy-ache routine again?’ Matthew’s frowning. They let Amelie stay off an extra day after all the drama but he’d expected it to blow over by now. Day three.

‘No. Hang on, Matt. I need to move . . .’ There’s the click of a door at Sally’s end. ‘Sorry. I don’t want her listening in. She says she’s worried the bad man will come to the nursery with his gun.’ Sally pauses again. ‘She says she feels safer at home.’

‘Jeez.’ Matthew stands and checks his watch. He should go home but is now torn. He needs to leave straight away for the café if he’s not to hold Mel up. Or rather let her down. ‘Right. Well, we need to talk this through some more this evening; maybe I underestimated.’ He rakes his fingers through his hair, taking in a long, slow breath. ‘I’d hoped she’d just forget it at her age. Maybe we should take advice. Get someone professional to talk to her.’

‘Like a psychiatrist? Oh goodness. You really think so? You don’t think we just need to give it some time?’

‘I honestly don’t know. Look. Do you want me to come home now?’

‘Are you busy?’

‘Sort of. But—’

‘No, then. It won’t change today. I’ve written off nursery for today.’

‘OK, so let’s try reassuring her together again when I get home later and see how the weekend goes. But let’s take some advice too. What about the school? Maybe we could talk to her teacher?’ Amelie’s nursery is attached to the primary school she’ll be attending soon. It’s a brilliant place. Long waiting list.

‘This is my fault, isn’t it?’ Sal sounds close to tears now. ‘For saying those things in front of her. For mentioning the gun, for saying I thought you were going to be shot . . .’

‘Sal, you have to stop that, love. This is no one’s fault but the bastard who shot that poor girl in the cathedral. Amelie will get past this with our help. We’ll make her feel safe again, Sal. Kids are resilient. We just need to give her a bit of time.’

He waits, sipping again at the coffee. The truth? He’s feeling now that this is his fault for charging off in the opposite direction; for heading to the cathedral into danger instead of protecting his family.

Sally lets out a long sigh. ‘You’re right, Matt. OK. I’ll try to distract her today and play it down. We’ll talk to her again later. Yes?’

‘Course. Together. Look – I’ve just got a meeting and then I’ll be home early. Promise. Love you.’

‘You too.’



In the car, he finds the faux-jolly banter of a music quiz irritating. He keeps thinking of Amelie bursting into tears when he caught up with them in the car park after the cathedral. He flicks from radio station to radio station. Some are running updates on a hurricane that has hit an island he’s never heard of. Meltona. Everyone stranded. He searches for a local news bulletin and at last there’s an update on the shooting. It repeats that police are still trawling through the huge array of photos and video footage of the graduation ceremony. There’s a sound clip in which you can hear someone in the background shouting, ‘She’s been shot. Oh no. She’s been shot.’ Then screaming. He snaps off the radio, his heart rate increasing again.

He’s picturing once more the small oak door by the laburnum tree. The faces of all the terrified students in that anteroom, unsure whether to make a run for it.