‘There’s corns in my ear.’
‘What d’you mean, corns? People get corns on their feet, not in their ears – what are you talking about, Freddie?’
‘Yellow corns,’ he mumbles.
Kerry inspects his ear again – it’s definitely gummy in there, and she can detect an odour – a sort of rotting-vegetation whiff. ‘D’you mean you put something in your ear?’
‘Yeah.’ He bites his lip. ‘I put yellow corn in it.’
‘But …’ Picturing James waiting patiently downstairs in the music room, Kerry shakes her head in disbelief. In fact … maybe he’s not waiting patiently. Maybe he has already put on his jacket and quietly let himself out. ‘I can’t remember the last time we had sweetcorn,’ she murmurs. ‘I know you don’t really like it.’
‘It was at Nanny and Nonno’s.’
‘But that was last weekend! That’s what, at least four days ago, five if you had it on Saturday …’ Freddie nods, and Kerry shoots him an alarmed look. ‘Are you sure you put it in your ear? You’re not just making this up, are you?’
‘Yeah. No. I’m not telling a lie, Mummy.’
‘But why?’ And now James will be walking home, thinking, well, that’s that. Pleasant enough meal, but Kerry obviously doesn’t have space in her life for a proper, grown-up evening.
‘’Cause I don’t like it,’ Freddie says simply.
‘Yes, and there are lots of things I don’t like,’ she exclaims, ‘like eggs and mushrooms and tinned tuna, but I don’t go stuffing them in my ear, do I—’
His bottom lip wobbles and she cuts herself short. Of course she doesn’t; she’s an adult and her son is a five-year-old, scared little boy.
‘Oh, honey,’ she murmurs, pulling him close. ‘Does it really hurt?’
‘Yeah, and it’s stinky as well.’
‘I know, love. I can actually smell it from here. Listen, I think I’d better take you to hospital right away.’
‘Can the doctor get it out?’ He is crying now, his cheek hot and wet against her face.
‘Yes, of course he can.’
He sniffs and wipes a pyjama sleeve across his face. ‘How?’
‘Don’t you worry about that,’ she says. ‘That’s what they’re for, darling. Now let’s get you up and dressed.’
James is still there, amazingly, when she and a still-sleepy Freddie appear in the music room. ‘You probably heard all that?’
‘Yes, God … is there anything I can do to help?’
‘Thanks but I’d better deal with it.’ She smiles wearily. A few hours ago she’d felt like the old Kerry in her blue dress and lip gloss with her hair blow-dried; now, she’s been pinged firmly back into Mum-land.
‘I’d drive you,’ James offers, ‘but I’ve had half of that bottle of wine—’
‘Yes, me too. That’s going to look great in A&E, isn’t it? Wine-breath mum brings in little boy who’s had sweetcorn festering in his ear for nearly a week …’ She laughs mirthlessly. ‘And I’m going to have to wake Mia and bring her with me.’
‘Well …’ He frowns. ‘You could call a cab and I could stay here until you get back …’
‘That’s really kind of you, but Mia would freak out if she woke up in the night and found you here.’
‘Oh, of course …’
Kerry bites her lip. ‘It’s just that she doesn’t know you …’
‘My ear’s still leaking,’ Freddie whines.
‘I know, darling.’ She rubs her hands across her face, as if trying to erase the fact that this is actually happening.
‘Shall I call you a taxi?’ James asks hesitantly.
‘Yes please. Phone’s on the worktop by the cooker. You sit here, Freddie’ – she indicates the armchair in the corner of the music room – ‘and I’ll get Mia.’
Minutes later she’s lifting a sleeping Mia from her bed and gently feeding her arms into her red dressing gown, then carrying her downstairs and into the waiting taxi. She says goodbye to James – not even a peck on the cheek – and he’s gone, slightly huffily she thinks now, but what else was she supposed to do?
‘Shorling General?’ the driver asks.
‘Yes please.’ She closes the car door and looks out at the inky night sky. It’s nearly 11 p.m., the taxi smells pungently of Magic Tree, and she can hear Buddy barking fretfully in the house as the driver pulls away.
Serves me right, Kerry reflects, stroking Mia’s hair as she rests her head on her lap, for having lewd thoughts in the music room.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
‘Luke,’ James says, ‘I’m not coming into the shop today, okay?’
‘What’s wrong, Dad? Have a big night last night?’
‘No, not at all. I was home by half eleven, which you’d have known if you hadn’t been out spending our takings.’
‘Yeah, and the rest. Dirty stop-out.’ Luke sniggers and peers into the toaster where something appears to be incinerating. ‘How did it go anyway?’
‘It was …’ James shrugs. ‘It was nice.’
‘Seeing her again?’
‘Don’t know,’ he says briskly, unwilling to go into detail. In fact, he’s only just starting to make sense of it himself. Dinner had been great, but being cajoled into playing the piano had unnerved him – does Kerry ask every man who comes round to play for her, like some kind of audition? Maybe he’d passed it, as there had certainly been a moment, after he’d played his song, when he’d sensed a distinct spark between them. But then the leaky ear thing had happened, and James had felt awful for being unable to help; plus, Kerry’s sudden coolness towards him had suggested that, really, he shouldn’t have been there at all. Who could blame her after all the horror of her cheating ex and his pregnant colleague? Sure, James was dumped too, but compared to Kerry’s situation he feels – perhaps for the first time – that he might have got off pretty lightly.
‘Are you going to do website stuff instead?’ Luke asks, inspecting his handsome reflection in the shiny chrome kettle before pulling on a grey hoodie over his T-shirt.
‘No, I’m having a day off. You know, the old-fashioned concept of not actually working every single day? And doing something for yourself instead?’ It comes
