Page 16

I look in on my boys before I go to bed. Raff is rolled over to face the window, no doubt exhausted by his session with the bag, but Orly is huddled over a book lit by a single candle, trying to ignore the weather outside. He makes room for me to climb in next to him, relieved, probably, to have some company during the storm.

“What are you reading?” I ask softly, not wanting to disturb Raff.

He shows me the graphic novel and tells me a little about its story, but he seems distracted.

“Nice,” I murmur. “You can sleep, you know. I’ll stay with you.”

“I’m not tired,” he says.

“Are you bothered by today?”

“No.” He glances at me. “Should I be?”

“Things affect people in different ways.”

I wait for him to find the words to tell me what’s wrong, or to decide he is sleepy after all.

“This morning,” he says haltingly, “before we went to the boat.”

“Yeah.”

“Rowan was asking me about Hank.”

My stomach plummets and I am back to despising her, for putting him in that position. Then again if we didn’t have anything to hide there wouldn’t be an issue with it, I suppose. It feels like a game of chicken with her. One of us will have to break first and admit we know that something is wrong, that one of us is lying. Or that we both are.

“What did she ask?”

“If you and him were friends. I said no, because you weren’t, right? Even back at the start. Was that wrong?”

“No, mate. It’s fine.” I pull him into me and open the pages of his comic. “Don’t waste another thought on it.” I ask him to read to me, and while he does I glance at his older brother to see that Raff is awake and watching us. His eyes meet mine, filled with the same sense of impending disaster.