“Especially if the secret makes you worried.”
Darian returned alone.
He asked whether Max wanted to stay while he spoke to Julian.
The answer came immediately.
“No.”
He accepted it.
I took Max upstairs.
We passed the hall table where the invitation had been.
The boy stopped beside it.
“Was it here?”
“Yes.”
“I put it right.”
“You did.”
He looked relieved for a moment.
Then he asked:
“Was my writing hard to read?”
I crouched beside him.
“The word Dad was very clear.”
He nodded.
We went upstairs.
His costume lay folded in the bottom of the wardrobe beneath a school jumper.
He saw me notice.
“I didn’t throw it away.”
“I’m glad.”
“I thought maybe you wanted the buttons.”
I looked at the silver-painted circles.
The crooked little row he had arranged so carefully.
“The buttons are yours.”
“They’re not real.”
“They’re still yours.”
Max sat on the bed.
He didn’t cry again.
He stared at the wardrobe until I asked whether he wanted the door closed.
He shook his head.
So we left it open.
Downstairs, I heard Darian’s voice.
Controlled.
Clear.
I couldn’t hear every word.
Then one sentence reached the landing.
“Did you let people believe you were his father?”
I learned the details of the call later.
Julian initially said he used a spare ticket.
Darian asked why it was spare.
“Helena said you were unavailable.”
“Did she say Max didn’t want me?”
“No.”
“Did she say I laughed at his costume?”
