Dead at First Sight

18 Wednesday 26 September

Roy Grace and Cleo stopped for a meal at a country pub and restaurant on their way home, the Ginger Fox. Seated at a corner table, he got a gin and tonic and Cleo an elderflower cordial, then they glanced at the menus.

When they had ordered — a starter of scallops with black pudding for Roy and lentil soup for Cleo, followed by roast cod for him and plaice for Cleo, and a large glass of Albarino for him — they began to discuss what Ted Hartwell had told them about Bruno.

‘Is it normal for a ten-year-old to have ambitions to be a dictator?’ Cleo asked him. ‘I mean, did you have ambitions of world domination at his age?’

A basket of bread arrived. ‘I’m not sure what clear ambitions I had, but certainly not that, no!’

‘We know so little about the first ten years of his life, don’t we?’ she said.

He shrugged, tipping some oil then balsamic into a bowl. ‘Virtually nothing.’ He broke off a piece of bread, dipped it in the bowl and ate it, hungrily. ‘I suppose—’ He shrugged. ‘We haven’t really talked seriously with him. We put him in a nice school and hoped for the best — that he would make friends and settle in. It’s not happening, is it?’

‘No.’ She twirled her glass in her hands. ‘I’ve tried to talk to him, but apart from the time he talked to our neighbour about his Porsche, I’ve hardly seen him engage with anyone, let alone people of his own age. He doesn’t seem interested in making friends — when he went to the football with your colleague Jason and Stan, it didn’t go well. We have to sit down and have a heart-to-heart with him. About his issues at school, about food — his likes and dislikes — and about, you know, just everyday life with us. He seems to like Noah and Humphrey, but that’s about all. He’s never had a father — at least from what we know. Maybe you can get through to him?’

Roy dipped another piece of bread into some olive oil. ‘Sure, I’ll try. I think we need to make a plan. Let’s start with my trying to make a real effort with him. See how that goes?’

‘Yep. He’s got your genes in him, Roy. You have good person genes. Maybe you can mine those out of him.’

Their starters arrived, along with Roy’s glass of wine. He realized, to his surprise, that he had finished his gin and tonic. And by the time they’d eaten their starters, he’d finished his glass of wine also. He ordered another.

‘We’ll prove him to be a nice kid,’ Grace said. ‘I’ll do everything I can to work on him — or rather, with him.’

‘I know you will.’

When his second Albarino arrived, they clinked glasses. ‘To Bruno,’ he said. Cleo gave him a strange, hopeful look.