ENSHROUDING LIGHT

THE MEETING

CHAPTER 6

THE MEETING

It didn't matter how much Nevaeh convinced herself that none of it was true, the image of Luke's darkened eyes shot into hers before sleeping, as she woke and throughout her days. She watched him like a predator whenever he was around—which had been increasingly less as time progressed—and was happy to see it didn't happen again. Not that she saw that much of him now. Of late, he would be gone for days at a time, never admitting to where, but at least this lack of communication had given her an excellent excuse to make him sleep on the couch whenever he was home. After two weeks of sleeping with one eye open in case he crept back into bed, and despite the baseball bat by the side of it, she was able to believe that she'd imagined his eyes flashing black and then turning into the murky substance it had.

Tom was a different matter. She couldn't get away from his strange behaviour as easily. Uninterested in the toys hanging in front of his bouncer chair, he sat, day after day, staring at his hands, flicking his fingers with a concentrated look.

'Tom's a little donkey!' It worked to distract him every time; he screamed with delight each time she emphasised the word 'donkey'. He also fixated on her mouth, trying to make the "d" sound.

As she pushed his pram into the baby clinic, most of the mums, sitting in wicker chairs in front of a large table, turned to look at her. She smiled at a few she recognised from the café. Behind a desk which had two large weighing scales stood a woman in her late fifties with short, blonde hair.

Nevaeh smiled at her. 'I received a letter saying I should have his weight monitored.'

'Please undress your child on the changing table.' The blonde pointed to a table to her right. 'Bring him here to be weighed when you're done.'

She nodded, pushed Tom to the table, and took him out of his pram. She placed him on the mat, undressed him and carried him over.

'You must have had the letter a while,' said the nurse as she lowered Tom into the scales. 'Why have you left it so long your first visit?'

'I've only just re—'

'He's a bit underweight, I think. How old is he?'

She raised her eyebrows. If anything Tom was overweight; he was huge compared to Francesca. 'He's seven weeks.'

'Seven months, yes, I thought so. He's a lot underweight.' She lifted Tom out of the cold scales and passed him back.

Nevaeh laughed. 'Seven weeks old.'

The nurse raised her eyebrows. 'Very funny.'

'What do you mean, very funny?' She placed Tom on her hip, one arm around his waist to support his weight.

'Well, I know he doesn't quite look seven months old...' she pointed her finger at him like he was a criminal, '...but I'm telling you he certainly isn't seven weeks!'

'Why not?'

'His size. The fact that he's supporting himself. I've been working here for nearly twenty years, I can categorically tell you that this boy is at least four months old.' She pursed her lips and folded her arms.

'He's seven weeks. And I've been in charge of my own vagina for at least sixteen years now so I can categorically tell you when this one popped out of it!'

Her eyes widened and then narrowed. She looked at Tom, who'd been moving his head from hers to the woman's like he was at a tennis match, and her face hardened. 'He certainly isn't—'