Finn rested his shaking hands on the bench, breathing through his mouth to minimise the stink of ozone and molten steel. That had been the smell filling his nostrils when he’d first heard the sound. He’d released the trigger, raised his goggles, and heard it again. The sound no one should ever hear. The sound of Bridget finding Toby.
He clenched his jaw. He wanted to tear the torch from its moorings and fling it over the fence. Or turn it on Dragon Sentry, lying dismembered on the bench before him, and melt the contraption down to nothing. Once, Finn had been able to sculpt so that the world receded and the only reality was wood and steel and the stink of ozone and molten copper. He’d never get back there. It was too dangerous to let world and time disappear. Nothing would erase the fact that he’d welded with his back turned to the pool while his son had drowned.
Had he really promised Edmund he’d create more of these things? So pretty, so gleaming. So deadly. In the absence of another explanation, it seemed Owl Sentry had indeed failed. How else could Toby have got into the pool? Even the police seemed to have no idea. DI Evans had interviewed them both again, and the tone of the questions was more sinister, but it was clear she didn’t know either.
It was no good. He stripped off the goggles and threw them on the bench. Straightened, stretched the kinks from his back, strode to the door and crossed over to the house. He had to think. When she was at work during the day, he could pretend he still lived in the house instead of across the chasm that now separated him from Bridget. The pool literally lay between them.
Finn readied the Atomic and put it on the gas. He felt sick as the machine heated up and the smell of hot metal permeated the kitchen. Acid burned in the back of his throat. He turned off the gas, carried the machine to the door and hurled it into the garden.
As the thing bounced across the grass he saw Meredith closing the gate behind her. Finn groaned softly and closed his eyes. Was it too much to ask, that he could lose it for a moment and be unobserved?
When he opened his eyes she was advancing on him.
‘Finn,’ she said in her low voice. At least she didn’t try for a breezy greeting.
‘Rough day,’ he said, not looking at her.
‘I was passing. Thought I’d see how you’re getting on. It can’t be easy, working out there.’
Finn started to cry. It spilled over without conscious decision, weeping of the hopeless kind, a stream of tears soaking his face.
‘Let’s go in,’ Meredith said, putting a hand gently on his arm.
He allowed her to turn him and usher him up the steps. Without really knowing how, he found himself sitting at the table while she bustled around with kettle and milk and mugs.
‘You’ll find tea goes down better with this.’ She pulled a small bottle of brandy from her handbag. The smell of alcohol at ten in the morning made Finn dizzy. He took a gulp of brandy-laced tea that burned all the way down.
‘You always carry that?’
She smiled, a small, sad smile. ‘Unfortunately, yes.’
Finn took another gulp. ‘I had an agent around last week to look at selling the house. We haven’t signed or anything. But she’s just called to say she’s got someone keen, who’s only in town today.’
‘So you’re leaving?’
Finn nodded. ‘I guess so. But she wants me to clean out Toby’s room.’ He groped for a tissue, honked his nose, and took another gulp of tea.
‘When does she want to bring them?’
‘In an hour.’ Finn felt his chest heave. With the flowers and candles and teddies out the front gone, Toby’s room was their own private shrine. Changing it from the day Toby died seemed an irrevocable step, and one that Bridget should have a say in. But the idea of texting or calling her to ask felt monumental.
‘Do you want me to help?’ When he didn’t answer, Meredith passed him another tissue. ‘I promise you, I’ll do it with love.’
Love was a word that hadn’t been said between Finn and Bridget since Toby died. He’d been too afraid to say it, too afraid of her response. Afraid the hate in her eyes would be articulated. He’d moved across the pool to the studio without complaint and endured the unendurable nights over there the same way. He was far enough away that she wouldn’t have to drive him further. A safe distance from which to wait and see what happened.
He looked over at Meredith, she of the brandy bottle in the handbag, and the foundation for dead children, and the understanding face.
‘I can’t go in there. Could you do it?’
‘Yes.’
‘I think there are some boxes in the garage somewhere.’ He gestured vaguely.
She stood. ‘I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you clean up the living area and run a vacuum around the place? The two of us can get it looking fine in an hour.’
Finn watched her cross the lawn, open the garage, locate some boxes and carry them back. She’d appeared at the exact moment he needed help. She had brandy in her handbag. She was willing. So why didn’t he like her?